I ought to have mentioned, before this, what every body will guess, that Joel was desperately in love with Ellen Bellows, without, however, giving her the least reason to believe so, beyond that silent, unobtrusive devotion which girls, after all, are not very apt to mistake. Joel felt that in his situation he had no right to attempt to win Ellen's affection; but he unconsciously took the very best way to win it. In his intercourse with her he was reserved, almost formal, and, I may say, apparently indifferent. Ellen, when she came home from school to spend her vacations, used to feel a good deal piqued that Joel was not more demonstrative in his welcome. I can not believe she did not comprehend pretty well how Joel really felt; but his manner annoyed her, nevertheless. For example, he would frequently step aside and permit another to wait on Miss Bellows, when Miss Bellows would much prefer Joel had not been so accommodating. In fact, she was vexed with him half the time for what she called his stupidity, and half the time tantalized by his 'studious reserve.' Meanwhile, Joel pursued his career of self-martyrdom, honest and true-hearted.
Now the scene had changed, and Joel was no longer the diffident youth, but a man, competent and energetic. He took the direction of every thing; nothing was overlooked. Of course the relatives were sent for. It was the old story: they had paid great respect to their rich cousin, but they did not seem to care much for the memory of the broken-down insolvent.
The day of the funeral arrived—a dreary November day. It was just eleven years from the day Joel's mother was buried and he himself taken to the house of Mr. Bellows. Joel did not forget it, and it gave additional strength to carry out what devolved on him. There was a very large attendance at the house. The circumstances of the failure and subsequent suicide, the situation of the only daughter, and the many petty incidents which were now the town talk, excited the curiosity of the good people, and there was an opportunity to gratify it by attending the funeral. They wanted to see how the corpse would look. They were crazy to know how Ellen Bellows would appear, and what Joel Burns would do. So the house was thronged. After all, there was not much to satisfy their curiosity. The corpse was not exposed; Ellen Bellows, contrary to all custom in New-England, remained in her chamber, for which, as you may believe, she was pretty thoroughly picked to pieces; and Joel Burns sat quietly, with sad but tranquil countenance, among the mourners.
The next day Joel called Ellen aside and asked her whether she was not going home with her aunt.
'Am I not to stay here?' she said.
Joel could not explain to her just then the absolute ruin which stared her in the face. He simply answered: 'No, Ellen, you must go away for a few weeks. There is much to do, and for a time you had better be absent.'
'Very well, Joel, if you advise it. I have nobody else to advise me,' and she burst into tears.
Joel remained calm. He had previously made up his mind just what to do, and he brought all the energy of his nature to sustain him. His composed air helped to restore Ellen—she tried to be as calm as he.
'But aunt, since she came, has not invited me return with her,' she said.
'Oh! but she will, I am sure,' replied Joel, and he went out rather abruptly; for here was an obstacle to his plan which did not occur to him before. He proceeded at once to the aunt, and found her preparing to leave that afternoon.