"Stay here when you will take me away."
There was a few minutes' thoughtful pause on both sides.
"You are grown, Ellie," said John; "you are not the child I left you."
"I don't know," said Ellen smiling; "it seems to me I am just the same."
"Let me see look at me."
She raised her face, and, amidst smiles and tears, its look was not less clear and frank than his was penetrating. "Just the same," was the verdict of her brother's eyes a moment afterwards. Ellen's smile grew bright as she read it there.
"Why have you never come or written before, John?"
"I did not know where you were. I have not been in England for many months till quite lately, and I could not get your address. I think my father was without it for a long time, and when at last he sent it to me, the letter miscarried never reached me there were delays upon delays."
"And when did you get it?"
"I preferred coming to writing."