"Good-bye, dear Ellie," whispered Alice at last "I'll come and see you soon. Remember what John said when he went away."
Ellen did not trust herself to speak. She pulled herself away from Alice, and turned to Mr. Van Brunt, saying, by her manner, that she was ready. He took her bundle, and they went out of the house together.
Ellen made a manful effort, all the way down the hill, to stifle the tears that were choking her. She knew they would greatly disturb her companion, and she did succeed, though with great difficulty, in keeping them back. Luckily for her, he said hardly anything during the whole walk; she could not have borne to answer a question. It was no fault of Mr. Van Brunt's that he was so silent he was beating his brains the whole way to think of something it would do to say, and could not suit himself. His single remark was, "that it was like to be a fine spring for the maple, and he guessed they'd make a heap of sugar."
When they reached the door, he told her she would find her aunt upstairs, and himself turned off to the barn. Ellen stopped a minute upon the threshold to remember the last time she had crossed it and the first time: how changed everything now! and the thought came, was this now to be her home for ever? She had need again to remember John's words. When bidding her good-bye, he had said, "My little pilgrim, I hope you will keep the straight road, and win the praise of the servant who was faithful over a few things." "I will try!" thought poor Ellen; and then she passed through the kitchen, and went up to her own room. Here, without stopping to think, she took off her things, gave one strange look at the old familiar place, and her trunk in the corner, fell on her knees for one minute, and then went to her aunt's room.
"Come in," cried Miss Fortune when Ellen had knocked. "Well, Ellen, there you are. I am thankful it is you; I was afraid it might be Mimy Lawson, or Sarah Lowndes, or some of the rest of the set; I know they'll all come scampering here as soon as they hear I'm laid up."
"Are you very sick, Aunt Fortune?" said Ellen.
"La! no, child I shall be up again to-morrow; but I felt queer this morning, somehow, and I thought I'd try lying down. I expect I've caught some cold."
There was no doubt of this; but this was not all. Besides catching cold, and doing her best to bring it about, Miss Fortune had overtasked her strength, and by dint of economy, housewifery, and smartness, had brought on herself the severe punishment of lying idle and helpless for a much longer time than she at first reckoned on.
"What can I do for you, Aunt Fortune?" said Ellen.
"Oh, nothing as I know," said Miss Fortune "only let me alone, and don't ask me anything, and keep people out of the house. Mercy! my head feels as if it would go crazy! Ellen, look here," said she, raising herself on her elbow "I won't have anybody come into this house if I lie here till doomsday, I won't! Now, you mind me. I ain't agoing to have Mimy Lawson, nor nobody else, poking all round into every hole and corner, and turning every cheese upside down to see what's under it. There ain't one of 'em too good for it, and they shan't have a chance. They'll be streaking here, a dozen of 'em, to help take care of the house; but I don't care what becomes of the house; I won't have anybody in it. Promise me you won't let Mr. Van Brunt bring any one here to help; I know I can trust you to do what I tell you; promise me!"