"Five six, seven seven years ago. Mr. John had been left in England till a little before. Mr. Humphreys was never the same after that. He wouldn't hold his professorship any longer; he couldn't bear society; he just went and buried himself at Carra-carra. That was a little after we came here."
How much all this interested Ellen! She was glad, however, when Miss Sophia seemed to have talked herself out, for she wanted very much to think over John's sermon. And as Miss Sophia happily fell into a doze soon after, she had a long quiet time for it, till it grew dark, and Ellen Chauncey, whose impatience could hold no longer, came to seek her.
John came in the evening. Ellen's patience and politeness were severely tried in the course of it; for while she longed exceedingly to hear what her brother and the older members of the family were talking about animated, delightful conversation she was sure Ellen Chauncey detained her in another part of the room; and for a good part of the evening she had to bridle her impatience, and attend to what she did not care about. She did it, and Ellen Chauncey did not suspect it; and at last she found means to draw both her and herself near the larger group. But they seemed to have got through what they were talking about; there was a lull. Ellen waited and hoped they would begin again.
"You had a full church this afternoon, Mr. John," said Miss
Sophia.
He bowed gravely.
"Did you know whom you had among your auditors? the and were there;" naming some distinguished strangers in the neighbourhood.
"I think I saw them."
"You 'think' you did! Is that an excess of pride or an excess of modesty? Now, do be a reasonable creature, and confess that you are not insensible to the pleasure and honour of addressing such an audience!"
Ellen saw something like a flash of contempt for an instant in his face, instantly succeeded by a smile.
"Honestly, Miss Sophia, I was much more interested in an old woman that sat at the foot of the pulpit-stairs."