CHAPTER XLVIII.
How old friends were invested with the regalia.
Mr. Lindsay had some reason that morning to wish that Ellen would look merrier; it was a very sober little face he saw by his side as the carriage rolled smoothly on with them towards Edinburgh; almost pale in its sadness. He lavished the tenderest kindness upon her, and without going back by so much as a hint to the subjects of the morning, he exerted himself to direct her attention to the various objects of note and interest they were passing. The day was fine, and the country, also the carriage and the horses; Ellen was dearly fond of driving; and long before they reached the city, Mr. Lindsay had the satisfaction of seeing her smile break again, her eye brighten, and her happy attention fixing on the things he pointed out to her, and many others that she found for herself on the way, his horses first of all. Mr. Lindsay might relax his efforts and look on with secret triumph; Ellen was in the full train of delighted observation.
"You are easily pleased, Ellen," he said, in answer to one of her simple remarks of observation.
"I have a great deal to please me," said Ellen.
"What would you like to see in Edinburgh?"
"I don't know, Sir; anything you please."
"Then I will show you a little of the city in the first place."
They drove through the streets of Edinburgh, both the Old and the New Town, in various directions. Mr. Lindsay was extremely pleased to see that Ellen was so, and much amused at the curiosity shown in her questions, which, however, were by no means as free and frequent as they might have been had John Humphreys filled her uncle's place.
"What large building is that over there?" said Ellen.