“I hope so,” Madelene was beginning with an ill-assured glance at her father, when he suddenly interrupted her.
“I hope not, Ella,” he said. “That sort of thing would only put nonsense in your head. It is quite different for Ermine.”
Ella gazed at him in astonishment. His tone was not unkind, but very decided. To his last words she could give one interpretation—it was different for Ermine because she was already tacitly engaged to Philip, and but for this her father evidently would not have approved of her visiting by herself. Ella felt herself grow pale, but she did not speak.
“Oh, papa,” Madelene interposed, “that is too sweeping. Some day I hope Ella may see something of country-house society—with me you would trust her?”
Colonel St Quentin murmured something, of which Ella only caught the words—“Plenty of time—rational life for a girl.”
But she felt now as if she did not care.
The next morning brought no letter from Ermine, the day after came one which Madelene read to herself with somewhat clouded brow.
“Ermine is so tiresome, papa,” she said. “For some reason or other she seems to have got a fit of homesickness. Just when I was so delighted to think she was enjoying herself. She actually talks of coming home the day after to-morrow.”
“Umph,” said Colonel St Quentin, “that will be Friday. Tell her I can’t send to the station that day—Brown is going to look at that new pair, and I won’t trust Parker’s driving in this weather; she must stay any way till Monday. Is Philip still there?”
“No,” said Madelene, going on with her letter. “At least he is leaving to-day.”