And he turned coldly away.
“I wish I had not gone,” said Madelene to Ermine when the sisters were together again at Coombesthorpe. “It has only made Philip angry with me, and done no good to Ella. I wish Aunt Anna would adopt her altogether.”
“Papa would never consent to that,” said Ermine, “at least not in the sense you mean, though in my sense, nothing could be more delightful. I am enchanted that she is staying there—it would have been too stupid of you to oppose it.”
“I would have done so if I could,” Madelene replied. “I am so unhappy about Ella for her own sake, Ermine. I can see that she is already very much attracted by Philip and—”
“Well? What could you possibly have to say against it? It won’t be your doing.”
“I am afraid Philip is only amusing himself. You know how charming he can be. And that would be dreadful for her, poor child. It has all come of that absurd comedy at the beginning of their acquaintance.”
“Yes,” said Ermine, “I hope it has.”
Colonel St Quentin made not the smallest objections to Ella’s remaining at Cheynesacre, and once satisfied as to this, the girl gave herself up to full enjoyment of the present.
“I have never been so happy before,” she said to her godmother on the last day of her stay. And she said truly. Sir Philip who was in the room at the time glanced at her as she spoke.
“We must have a jolly Christmas at Coombesthorpe,” he said. “Poor Maddie and Ermine have had plenty of dull ones there.”