"Why, Hutchinson will tell you," said the young lady, "that it is infinitely more desirable to be a Scotchwoman than that."
Ellen's face, however, looked so little inclined to be merry, that she took up the subject in another tone.
"Seriously, do you know," said she, "I have been thinking it is a very happy thing for you. I don't know what would become of you alone in that great parsonage-house. You would mope yourself to death in a little while, especially now that Mr. John is gone."
"He will be back," said Ellen.
"Yes; but what if he is? he can't stay at Thirlwall, child he can't live thirty miles from his church, you know did you think he would? They think all the world of him already. I expect they'll barely put up with Mr. George while he is gone; they will want Mr. John all to themselves when he comes back, you may rely on that. What are you thinking of, child?"
For Ellen's eyes were sparkling with two or three thoughts, which Miss Sophia could not read.
"I should like to know what you are smiling at," she said, with some curiosity; but the smile was almost immediately quenched in tears.
Notwithstanding Miss Sophia's discouraging talk, Ellen privately agreed with Ellen Chauncey that the Brownie should be sent to her to keep and use as her own, till his mistress should come back both children being entirely of opinion that the arrangement was a most unexceptionable one.
It was not forgotten that the lapse of three years since the date of the letters, left some uncertainty as to the present state of affairs among Ellen's friends in Scotland; but this doubt was not thought sufficient to justify her letting pass so excellent an opportunity of making the journey; especially as Captain Montgomery's letter spoke of an uncle, to whom, equally with her grandmother, Ellen was to be consigned. In case circumstances would permit it, Mrs. Gillespie engaged to keep Ellen with her, and bring her home to America when she herself should return.
And in little more than a month they were gone; adieus and preparations and all were over. Ellen's parting with Mrs. Vawse was very tender and very sad; with Mr. Van Brunt, extremely and gratefully affectionate on both sides; with her aunt, constrained and brief; with Margery very sorrowful indeed. But Ellen's longest and most lingering adieu was to Captain Parry, the old gray cat. For one whole evening she sat with him in her arms; and over poor pussy were shed the tears that fell for many better loved and better deserving personages, as well as those not a few that were wept for him. Since Alice's death Parry had transferred his entire confidence and esteem to Ellen; whether from feeling a want, or because love and tenderness had taught her the touch and the tone that were fitted to win his regard. Only John shared it. Ellen was his chief favourite and almost constant companion. And bitterer tears Ellen shed at no time than that evening before she went away, over the old cat. She could not distress kitty with her distress, nor weary him with the calls upon his sympathy, though, indeed, it is true that he sundry times poked his nose up wonderingly and caressingly in her face. She had no remonstrance or interruption to fear: and taking pussy as the emblem and representative of the whole household, Ellen wept them all over him; with a tenderness and a bitterness that were somehow intensified by the sight of the gray coat and white paws, and kindly face of her unconscious old brute friend.