“My dearest child,” she exclaimed, “you cannot seriously think such a step would be allowed? Of course Madelene has seen Fräulein Braune and had a long talk with her. But it can’t be—your father would not hear of it. And think of the scandal!”
“I can’t help that,” said Ella quickly. “Of course people would talk of it—the daughter of a very rich man like my father, going out as a governess, would naturally make people talk. But I will not go back, and so as I won’t do what they wish I do not ask for any money—not even the money that when I am of age would be legally mine. I am quite willing to work for myself. I told Madelene, at least I wrote it, that I would give up my share, but I would not stay at home.”
“You wrote that to Madelene about giving up your share,” repeated Mrs Burton with a curious expression in her face, an expression which Ella did not understand.
“Of course I did. What is money without affection?” said Ella, rearing her little head superbly.
Mrs Burton hesitated. They were treading on delicate ground, ground on which she herself had been specially warned to tread with the greatest caution, and she grew nervous.
“My dearest child,” she began after a moment’s silence. “I have not said that your father insists on your returning to Coombesthorpe, even though he refuses his consent to your going to Germany. On the contrary he does not want you to go back to them. He seems to think it better not.”
“And Madelene?” asked Ella sharply. “What does she wish?”
“Personally, as far as I could make out, she was most anxious for you to go back. She was suffering terribly, so—that may have been exaggerated—at not being able to come herself to you, but she gave in to your father’s decision.”
“And what was that?”
“That you should come back to me, darling. It was what you wished yourself when you wrote last week,” said Mrs Burton anxiously.