Ella hesitated.
“I like what I have seen of him,” she replied. “He is not good-looking though; he is small and rather insignificant.”
“Not like Omar?”
“No,” she agreed, “not nearly as handsome as Captain Omar.” Then with a sudden impulse, “Sir Philip,” she said, “won’t you explain to me—why won’t Madelene marry Captain Omar? Why am I made a—a burden and a difficulty of? I would do anything; I have been so unhappy. I know I have misjudged Madelene in some ways, but I don’t now. I do want to—to be good and nice, and—and—”
But the rest of her confidences were lost; her voice broke, and Philip knew that she was crying.
“Ella,” he exclaimed, “Ella, darling, I can’t bear to see you like that. Have we all been very cruel to you, somehow? I feel as if we had. I feel as if I had, and yet—and yet—I would do anything—I would give my life to make you happy.”
Ella’s sobs ceased. She glanced up at Philip with a curious mingling of expressions on her face.
“Sir Philip,” she said quietly, “I am not a child. You shouldn’t speak to me quite—quite like that, though I know you mean it kindly.”
“Kindly!” he repeated hotly. “Ella—you know it isn’t that. I dare say I’m a fool—you will probably only laugh at me, but I have waited and I don’t think it has done any good. Granny said you were too young, and that it wasn’t fair upon you till you had seen more of the world, but things have gone wrong quite enough. I won’t risk it any more. Ella—do you, no, could you ever get to care for me?”
Ella’s eyes filled with soft tears again.