But no Mortimer was now desired. In the evening he made another attempt; and finding Ellen alone, sent in a supplicatory message by her to Amanda. She was just risen, and Mrs. Edwin was making tea for her; a flush of indignation overspread her pale face, on receiving his message. “Tell him,” said she, “I am astonished at his request, and never will grant it. Let him seek elsewhere a heart more like his own, and trouble my repose no more.”
He heard her words, and in a fit of passion and disappointment flew out of the house. Howel entered soon after, and heard from Ellen an account of the quarrel; a secret hope sprung in his heart at this intelligence, and he desired Ellen to meet him in about half an hour in the valley, thinking by that time he could dictate some message to send by her to Amanda.
As the parson had never paid Miss Fitzalan any of those attentions which strike a vulgar eye, and had often laughed and familiarly chatted with Ellen, she took it into her head he was an admirer of hers; and if being the object of Chip’s admiration excited the envy of her neighbors, how much would that increase when the parson’s predilection was known? She set about adorning herself for her appointment; and while thus employed the honest, faithful Chip entered, attired in his holiday clothes, to escort her to a little dance. Ellen bridled up at the first intimation of it; and, delighted with the message Amanda had sent to Lord Mortimer, which in her opinion was extremely eloquent, she resolved now to imitate it.
“Timothy,” said she, drawing back her head, “your request is the most improperest that can be conceived, and it is by no means convenient for me to adhere to it. I tell you, Tim,” cried she, waving the corner of her white apron, for white handkerchief she had not, “I wonder at your presumptioness in making it; cease your flattering expressions of love, look out amongst the inferiority for a heart more like your own, and trouble my pleasure no more.”
Chip paused a moment, as if wanting to comprehend her meaning. “The short and the long of it then, Nell,” said he, “is that you and I are to have nothing more to say to each other.”
“True,” cried his coquettish mistress.
“Well, well, Nell,” said he, half crying, “the time may come when you will repent having served a true-hearted lad in this manner.” So saying, he ran from the house.
Ellen surveyed herself with great admiration, and expected nothing less than an immediate offer of the parson’s hand. She found him punctual to his appointment, and after walking some time about the valley, they sat down together upon a little bank. “Ellen,” said he, taking her hand, “do you think there is any hope for me?”
“Nay, now intead, Mr. Howel,” cried she, with affected coyness, “that is such a strange question.”
“But the quarrel, perhaps,” said he, “may be made up.”