And with another series of pirouettes Ella took herself off.
She flew to her father’s room this time.
“May I come in? Oh, papa, I don’t know how to thank you,” she cried. And as her father looked up, she seemed to him a transfigured creature from the meek, subdued Ella of the night before. There she stood, radiant and glowing with a delight which one could have fancied illumined even the dull folds of her grey frock as with sunshine.
A smile broke over Colonel St Quentin’s pale worn face.
“My poor little girl,” he ejaculated involuntarily, “do you really care so much about it?”
“Of course I do. Oh! you don’t know how happy I am. But oh, papa, you don’t think Madelene will mind, do you?”
Colonel St Quentin’s face changed.
“Madelene mind!” he repeated. “My dear Ella, how extraordinarily you misapprehend your sister.” Just, in other words, what Hester had said. For a moment Ella’s face looked grave. If it were the case after all that Madelene was not to blame? But no—how could it be so? For papa, had been so easy to persuade—was now so plainly enjoying her delight. The girl’s expression darkened. Madelene, she felt almost inclined to believe, was worse than she had yet imagined. She must be cleverer and more cunning, thought Ella, not only to keep her in the position she did, but to make it seem that she wished it otherwise. But these reflections of course were not to be expressed. And come what would, Ella decided triumphantly, her sister could not deprive her of this one evening’s enjoyment.
“I’m glad you don’t think Madelene will be vexed,” she said quietly.
Colonel St Quentin gave a slight smile. “You must promise me, Ella,” he went on, “to be very nice—biddable and considerate you know, to your—to Lady Cheynes. It is really very good, very good indeed of her to take you. Don’t tease her to stay late, or anything of that kind. I suppose it’s all right about your dress—she says so. Now, good-bye, my dear. Enjoy yourself and don’t fancy that any one will grudge your doing so.”