She shared her friend’s evening meal, though not daring to eat as much as she was inclined to do, when she saw how very modest it was. She would not allow the governess to give up her bed to her, as she wished, but insisted on spending the night with the aid of a pillow or two, on the little hair-covered sofa in the sitting-room. It was not very comfortable, she owned to herself, when Fräulein Braune had left her, very much less so than the cosy bed in the despised “nursery” at Coombesthorpe. And she was hungry too, really hungry, for she had had no luncheon to speak of, no afternoon tea at all, a very long walk in the cold and only enough supper to whet her hearty girlish appetite!
“I must get used to it,” she said to herself. “I can’t expect more than the bare necessaries of life now.” But she was so tired that in spite of all, she fell asleep and slept soundly.
It was morning already when she awoke—some moments of bewilderment as to what had happened and where she was were followed by a gradual recollection of the painful events of the preceding day. Then Fräulein Braune in a curiously befrilled headgear which Ella supposed must be a German nightcap, peeped in, to see if her guest was awake. Ella started up nervously.
“It is time to be getting ready, I suppose?” she said. “I was forgetting.”
“Yes,” said the governess. “If you have really kept to your determination of—”
“Of course I have,” said Ella sharply. “I shall be dressed in ten minutes; there will be time to catch the early train, will there not?”
“Oh, yes, if we are quick,” Fräulein Braune replied. Not that she would have been sorry if they had missed it, poor woman! But she was in secret hopes that Ella’s friends would have already communicated with the railway officials, and that her escapade would come to a premature ending at the station.
Nothing of the kind happened however, and the German was obliged to own to herself when fairly off on their journey, seated opposite Ella in a second-class compartment that it really did not look as if the poor girl’s family cared much about her. Still the more she thought it all over the more satisfied she became that she had acted not only kindly, but wisely in accompanying her pupil.
“She would never have got on without me,” the governess reflected, “though she is too childish to understand that. It will be easy to confide in Mrs Ward so far as is necessary to ensure her taking care of Ella in the meantime, without Ella’s in the least suspecting anything of the kind.”
And indeed though the girl’s heart and mind were very troubled and sore, she was feeling no special practical anxiety about her prospects. She had no misgiving as to the feasibility of the plan she had made, and was in no way surprised when things turned out pretty much in accordance with her own ideas.