"It is very natural," said Ellen, with some huskiness of voice, "that I should say so, because I feel so."
"You do not mean to say," said Mr. Lindsay, "that this Mr. and
Miss Somebody these people I don't know their names "
"There is only one now, Sir."
"This person you call your brother do you mean to say you have the same regard for him as if he had been born so?"
"No," said Ellen, with cheek and eye suddenly firing, "but a thousand times more!"
She was exceedingly sorry the next minute after she had said this, for she knew it had given both pain and displeasure in a great degree. No answer was made. Ellen dared not look at anybody, and needed not; she wished the silence might be broken; but nothing was heard except a low "whew!" from Mr. Lindsay, till he rose up and left the room. Ellen was sure he was very much displeased. Even the ladies were too much offended to speak on the subject; and she was merely bade to go to her room. She went there, and sitting down on the floor, covered her face with her hands. "What shall I do? what shall I do?" she said to herself, "I never shall govern this tongue of mine. Oh, I wish I had not said that! they will never forgive it. What can I do to make them pleased with me again? Shall I go to my father's study and beg him but I can't ask him to forgive me I haven't done wrong I can't unsay what I said. I can do nothing. I can only go in the way of my duty, and do the best I can, and maybe they will come round again. But, oh dear!"
A flood of tears followed this resolution.
Ellen kept it; she tried to be blameless in all her work and behaviour, but she sorrowfully felt that her friends did not forgive her. There was a cool air of displeasure about all they said and did; the hand of fondness was not laid upon her shoulder, she was not wrapped in loving arms, as she used to be a dozen times a day: no kisses fell on her brow or lips. Ellen felt it, more from Mr. Lindsay than both the others; her spirits sunk; she had been forbidden to speak of her absent friends, but that was not the way to make her forget them; and there was scarce a minute in the day when her brother was not present to her thoughts.
Sunday came her first Sunday in Edinburgh. All went to church in the morning; in the afternoon Ellen found that nobody was going; her grandmother was lying down. She asked permission to go alone.
"Do you want to go because you think you must, or for pleasure?" said Mrs. Lindsay.