The next day was Saturday. Ellen was up early; and after carefully performing her toilet duties, she had a nice long hour before it was time to go down stairs. The use she made of this hour had fitted her to do cheerfully and well her morning work; and Ellen would have sat down to breakfast in excellent spirits if it had not been for her promised disclosure to Mr. Van Brunt. It vexed her a little. "I told Aunt Fortune that was all right; but why I should be obliged to tell Mr. Van Brunt, I don't know. But if it convinces aunt Fortune that I am in earnest, and meant what I say then I had better."
Mr. Van Brunt looked uncommonly grave, she thought; her aunt, uncommonly satisfied. Ellen had more than half a guess at the reason of both; but make up her mind to speak she could not, during all breakfast time. She ate, without knowing what she was eating.
Mr. Van Brunt at length, having finished his meal, without
saying a syllable, arose, and was about to go forth, when Miss
Fortune stopped him. "Wait a minute, Mr. Van Brunt," she said;
"Ellen has something to say to you. Go ahead, Ellen."
Ellen felt rather than saw the smile with which these words were spoken. She crimsoned and hesitated.
"Ellen and I had some trouble yesterday," said Miss Fortune; "and she wants to tell you about it."
Mr. Van Brunt stood gravely waiting.
Ellen raised her eyes, which were full, to his face. "Mr. Van Brunt," she said, "Aunt Fortune wants me to tell you what I told her last night that I knew I behaved as I ought not to her yesterday, and the day before, and other times."
"And what made you do that?" said Mr. Van Brunt.
"Tell him," said Miss Fortune, colouring, "that you were in the wrong, and I was in the right then he'll believe it, I suppose."
"I was wrong," said Ellen.