"Why?"
Ellen coloured again at this exceedingly daring question, and answered as well as she could, that she had never been accustomed to it, and would rather not.
"It is of no sort of consequence what you have been accustomed to," said Mr. Lindsay. "You are to drink it all, Ellen."
Ellen dared not disobey. When the biscuits and wine were disposed of, Mr. Lindsay drew her close to his side, and encircling her fondly with his arms, said
"I shall leave you now for an hour or two, and you must amuse yourself as you can. The bookcases are open perhaps you can find something there; or there are prints in those portfolios; or you can go over to the house and make yourself acquainted with your new home. If you want anything, ask Mrs. Allen. Does it look pleasant to you?"
"Very," Ellen said.
"You are at home here, daughter; go where you will, and do what you will. I shall not leave you long. But before I go, Ellen, let me hear you call me father."
Ellen obeyed, trembling, for it seemed to her that it was to set her hand and seal to the deed of gift her father and mother had made. But there was no retreat it was spoken and Mr. Lindsay, folding her close in his arms kissed her again and again.
"Never let me hear you call me anything else, Ellen. You are mine own now my own child my own little daughter. You shall do just what pleases me in everything, and let by-gones be by-gones. And now lie down there and rest daughter; you are trembling from head to foot: rest and amuse yourself in any way you like till I return."
He left the room.