“Witness her running away from her aunt’s,” interrupted Madelene.
“Well, after all, I confess to some sympathy with her there,” Ermine went on. “But I am afraid she has a very fiery temper, Maddie.”
“Fiery, perhaps, but I hope not sulky or ungenerous,” said Madelene. “The difficulty will be to carry out papa’s wishes without rousing her ill-will. He is so determined that we are not to spoil her, and, in some ways, no doubt, she is spoilt already, and it will make it much more difficult to—at all put her back, as it were. I quite agree with papa about giving her plenty of occupation; she has lots of energy and I fancy she is clever.”
“She sings so sweetly,” said Ermine musingly; “indeed, she is charming in many ways, or might be, if she would. I could love her very much if she would be nice and sensible. But there is truth in papa’s view of it—it is an awkward position. Madelene,” she exclaimed suddenly, “an idea has just struck me. Why shouldn’t Ella marry Philip?”
“That child!” Madelene replied. “My dear Ermie—”
“She won’t always be a child—indeed, she is not one now. Lots of girls marry at eighteen—we ourselves haven’t married young, but that is no rule for Ella.”
“No—I didn’t mean that,” said Madelene. “I don’t quite know what I meant. The person that Philip should marry has always seemed a sort of myth, and to turn her into little Ella, somehow—”
“Struck you all of a heap,” said Ermine laughing. “You are not given to inspirations like me, Maddie. I have great faith in my inspirations. Think this one over, now. Why shouldn’t it do? It would perfectly delight papa, it would put her in a position such as neither you nor I expect for ourselves—and we would not be jealous, would we? I should love to think mamma’s child was safe and happy—and—”
“But the wealth and the position would not make her either safe or happy,” began Madelene—
“Of course not,” Ermine interrupted with some impatience. “It is Philip himself I am thinking the most of, you might know. Where could she have a better husband?”