"I had rather not tell."
"And I had rather you should tell so out with it."
"I was alone with Miss Humphreys," said Ellen; "and it is no matter what we were talking about it doesn't concern anybody but her and me."
"Yes it does, it concerns me," said her aunt, "and I choose to know; what were you talking about?"
Ellen was silent.
"Will you tell me?"
"No," said Ellen, low, but resolutely.
"I vow you're enough to try the patience of Job! Look here," said Miss Fortune, setting down what she had in her hands "I will know! I don't care what it was, but you shall tell me, or I'll find a way to make you. I'll give you such a "
"Stop! stop!" said Ellen wildly "you must not speak to me so! Mamma never did, and you have no right to! If Mamma or Papa were here, you would not dare talk to me so."
The answer to this was a sharp box on the ear from Miss Fortune's wet hand. Half stunned, less by the blow than the tumult of feeling it roused, Ellen stood a moment, and then throwing down her towel, she ran out of the room, shivering with passion, and brushing off the soapy water left on her face as if it had been her aunt's very hand. Violent tears burst forth as soon as she reached her own room tears at first of anger and mortification only; but conscience presently began to whisper, "You are wrong! you are wrong!" and tears of sorrow mingled with the others.