Hope deferred.
Before the sun was up the next morning, Mrs. Van Brunt came
into Ellen's room, and aroused her.
"It's a real shame to wake you up," she said, "when you were
sleeping so finely; but 'Brahm wants to be off to his work,
and won't stay for breakfast. Slept sound, did you?"
"Oh, yes, indeed; as sound as a top," said Ellen, rubbing her
eyes; "I am hardly awake yet."
"I declare it's too bad," said Mrs. Van Brunt "but there's
no help for it. You don't feel no headache, do you, nor pain
in your bones?"
"No, Maam, not a bit of it; I feel nicely."
"Ah! well," said Mrs. Van Brunt, "then your tumble into the
brook didn't do you any mischief; I thought it wouldn't. Poor
little soul!"
"I am very glad I did fall in," said Ellen; "for if I hadn't I
shouldn't have come here, Mrs. Van Brunt."
The old lady instantly kissed her.
"Oh! mayn't I just take one look at the kitties?" said Ellen,
when she was ready to go.
"Indeed you shall," said Mrs. Van Brunt, "if 'Brahm's hurry
was ever so much; and it ain't, besides. Come here, dear."
She took Ellen back to a waste lumber-room, where, in a
corner, on some old pieces of carpet, lay pussy and her
family. How fondly Ellen's hand was passed over each little
soft back! how hard it was for her to leave them!
"Wouldn't you like to take one home with you, dear?" said Mrs.
Van Brunt, at length.
"Oh! may I?" said Ellen, looking up in delight; "are you in
earnest? oh, thank you, dear Mrs. Van Brunt! oh, I shall be so
glad!"
"Well, choose one then, dear choose the one you like best,
and 'Brahm shall carry it for you."
The choice was made, and Mrs. Van Brunt and Ellen returned to
the kitchen, where Mr. Van Brunt had already been waiting some
time. He shook his head when he saw what was in the basket his
mother handed to him.
"That won't do," said be; "I can't go that, mother. I'll
undertake to see Miss Ellen safe home, but the cat 'ud be more
than I could manage. I think I'd hardly get off with a whole
skin 'tween the one and t'other."
"Well, now!" said Mrs. Van Brunt.
Ellen gave a longing look at her little black and white
favourite, which was uneasily endeavouring to find out the
height of the basket, and mewing at the same time with a most
ungratified expression. However, though sadly disappointed,
she submitted with a very good grace to what could not be
helped. First setting down the little cat out of the basket it
seemed to like so ill, and giving it one farewell pat and
squeeze, she turned to the kind old lady, who stood watching
her, and throwing her arms around her neck, silently spoke her
gratitude in a hearty hug and kiss.
"Good-bye, Maam," said she; "I may come and see them some
time again, and see you, mayn't I?"
"Indeed you shall, my darling," said the old woman; "just as
often as you like just as often as you can get away. I'll
make 'Brahm bring you home, sometimes. 'Brahm, you'll bring
her, won't you?"
"There's two words to that bargain, mother, I can tell you;
but if I don't, I'll know the reason on't."
And away they went. Ellen drew two or three sighs at first,
but she could not help brightening up soon. It was early not
sunrise; the cool freshness of the air was enough to give one
new life and spirit; the sky was fair and bright; and Mr. Van
Brunt marched along at a quick pace. Enlivened by the
exercise, Ellen speedily forgot everything disagreeable; and
her little head was filled with pleasant things. She watched
where the silver light in the east foretold the sun's coming.
She watched the silver change to gold, till a rich yellow tint
was flung over the whole landscape, and then broke the first
rays of light upon the tops of the western hills the sun was
up. It was a new sight to Ellen.
"How beautiful! Oh! how beautiful!" she, exclaimed.
"Yes," said Mr. Van Brunt, in his slow way, "it'll be a fine
day for the field. I guess I'll go with the oxen over to that
'ere big meadow."
"Just look," said Ellen, "how the light comes creeping down
the side of the mountain now it has got to the wood oh, do
look at the tops of the trees! Oh! I wish Mamma was here!"
Mr. Van Brunt didn't know what to say to this. He rather
wished so, too, for her sake.
"There," said Ellen, "now the sunshine is on the fence, and
the road, and everything. I wonder what is the reason that the
sun shines first upon the top of the mountain, and then comes
so slowly down the side; why don't it shine on the whole at
once?"
Mr. Van Brunt shook his head in ignorance. "He guessed it
always did so," he said.
"Yes," said Ellen, "I suppose it does; but that's the very
thing I want to know the reason why. And I noticed just now,
it shone in my face before it touched my hands. Isn't it
queer?"
"Humph! there's a great many queer things, if you come to
that," said Mr. Van Brunt, philosophically.
But Ellen's head ran on from one thing to another, and her
next question was not so wide of the subject as her companion
might have thought.
"Mr. Van Brunt, are there any schools about here?"
"Schools?" said the person addressed; "yes there's plenty of
schools."
"Good ones?" said Ellen.
"Well, I don't exactly know about that; there's Captain
Conklin's, that had ought to be a good 'un; he's a regular
smart man, they say."
"Whereabouts is that?" said Ellen.
"His school? it's a mile or so the other side of my house."
"And how far is it from your house to Aunt Fortune's?"
"A good deal better than two mile; but we'll be there before
long. You ain't tired, be you?"
"No," said Ellen. But this reminder gave a new turn to her
thoughts, and her spirits were suddenly checked. Her former
brisk and springing step changed to so slow and lagging a one,
that Mr. Van Brunt more than once repeated his remark that he
saw she was tired.
If it was that, Ellen grew tired very fast; she lagged more
and more as they neared the house, and at last fell quite
behind, and allowed Mr. Van Brunt to go in first.
Miss Fortune was busy about the breakfast, and as Mr. Van
Brunt afterwards described it, "looking as if she could have
bitten off a ten-penny nail," and, indeed, as if the operation
would have been rather gratifying than otherwise. She gave
them no notice at first, bustling to and fro with great
energy, but all of a sudden she brought up directly in front
of Ellen, and said
"Why didn't you come home last night?"
The words were jerked out rather than spoken.
"I got wet in the brook," said Ellen, "and Mrs. Van Brunt was
so kind as to keep me."
"Which way did you go out of the house yesterday?"
"Through the front door."
"The front door was locked."
"I unlocked it."
"What did you go out that way for?"
"I didn't want to come this way."
"Why not?"
Ellen hesitated.
"Why not?" demanded Miss Fortune, still more emphatically than
before.
"I did't want to see you, Maam," said Ellen, flushing.
"If ever you do so again!" said Miss Fortune, in a kind of
cold fury; "I've a great mind to whip you for this, as ever I
had to eat."
The flush faded on Ellen's cheek, and a shiver visibly passed
over her not from fear. She stood with downcast eyes and
compressed lips, a certain instinct of childish dignity
warning her to be silent. Mr. Van Brunt put himself in
between.
"Come, come!" said he, "this is getting to be too much of a
good thing. Beat your cream, Maam, as much as you like; or if
you want to try your hand on something else, you'll have to
take me first, I promise you."
"Now, don't _you_ meddle, Van Brunt," said the lady, sharply,
"with what ain't no business o' yourn."
"I don't know about that," said Mr. Van Brunt "maybe it _is_
my business; but meddle or no meddle, Miss Fortune, it is time
for me to be in the field; and if you han't no better
breakfast for Miss Ellen and me than all this here, we'll just
go right away hum again; but there's something in your kettle
there that smells uncommonly nice, and I wish you'd just let
us have it, and no more words."
No more words did Miss Fortune waste on any one that morning.
She went on with her work, and dished up the breakfast in
silence, and with a face that Ellen did not quite understand;
only she thought she had never in her life seen one so
disagreeable. The meal was a very solemn and uncomfortable
one. Ellen could scarcely swallow, and her aunt was near in
the same condition. Mr. Van Brunt and the old lady alone
despatched their breakfast as usual; with no other attempts at
conversation than the common mumbling on the part of the
latter, which nobody minded, and one or two strange grunts
from the former, the meaning of which, if they had any, nobody
tried to find out.
There was a breach now between Ellen and her aunt that neither
could make any effort to mend. Miss Fortune did not renew the
disagreeable conversation that Mr. Van Brunt had broken off;
she left Ellen entirely to herself, scarcely speaking to her,
or seeming to know when she went out or came in. And this
lasted day after day. Wearily they passed. After one or two,
Mr. Van Brunt seemed to stand just where he did before in Miss
Fortune's good graces; but not Ellen. To her, when others were
not by, her face wore constantly something of the same cold,
hard, disagreeable expression it had put on after Mr. Van
Brunt's interference a look that Ellen came to regard with
absolute abhorrence. She kept away by herself as much as she
could; but she did not know what to do with her time, and for
want of something better often spent it in tears. She went to
bed cheerless night after night, and arose spiritless morning
after morning; and this lasted till Mr. Van Brunt more than
once told his mother that "that poor little thing was going
wandering about like a ghost, and growing thinner and paler
every day; and he didn't know what she would come to if she
went on so."
Ellen longed now for a letter with unspeakable longing but
none came; day after day brought new disappointment, each
day more hard to bear. Of her only friend, Mr. Van Brunt, she
saw little; he was much away in the fields during the fine
weather; and when it rained, Ellen herself was prisoner at
home, whither he never came but at meal times. The old
grandmother was very much disposed to make much of her; but
Ellen shrank, she hardly knew why, from her fond caresses, and
never found herself alone with her if she could help it; for
then she was regularly called to the old lady's side, and
obliged to go through a course of kissing, fondling, and
praising she would gladly have escaped. In her aunt's presence
this was seldom attempted, and never permitted to go on. Miss
Fortune was sure to pull Ellen away, and bid her mother "stop
that palavering," avowing that "it made her sick." Ellen had
one faint hope that her aunt would think of sending her to
school, as she employed her in nothing at home, and certainly
took small delight in her company; but no hint of the kind
dropped from Miss Fortune's lips; and Ellen's longing look for
this as well as for a word from her mother, was daily doomed
to be ungratified, and to grow more keen by delay.
One pleasure only remained to Ellen in the course of the day,
and that one she enjoyed with the carefulness of a miser. It
was seeing the cows milked morning and evening. For this she
got up very early, and watched till the men came for the
pails; and then away she bounded, out of the house and to the
barnyard. There were the milky mothers, five in number,
standing about, each in her own corner of the yard or
cowhouse, waiting to be relieved of their burden of milk. They
were fine, gentle animals, in excellent condition, and looking
every way happy and comfortable; nothing living under Mr. Van
Brunt's care was ever suffered to look otherwise. He was
always in the barn or barnyard at milking time, and under his
protection Ellen felt safe, and looked on at her ease. It was
a very pretty scene at least, she thought so. The gentle
cows standing quietly to be milked as if they enjoyed it, and
munching the cud; and the white streams of milk foaming into
the pails; then there was the interest of seeing whether Sam
or Johnny would get through first; and how near Jane or Dolly
would come to rivalling Streaky's fine pailful; and at last
Ellen allowed Mr. Van Brunt to teach herself how to milk. She
began with trembling, but learnt fast enough; and more than
one pailful of milk that Miss Fortune strained, had been,
unknown to her, drawn by Ellen's fingers. These minutes in the
farm-yard were the pleasantest in Ellen's day. While they
lasted every care was forgotten, and her little face was as
bright as the morning; but the milking was quickly over, and
the cloud gathered on Ellen's brow almost as soon as the
shadow of the house fell upon it.
"Where is the post-office, Mr. Van Brunt?" she asked, one
morning, as she stood watching the sharpening of an axe upon
the grindstone. The axe was in that gentleman's hand, and its
edge carefully laid to the whirling-stone, which one of the
farm-boys was turning.
"Where is the post office? Why, over to Thirlwall, to be
sure," replied Mr. Van Brunt, glancing up at her from his work
"faster, Johnny."
"And how often do the letters come here?" said Ellen.
"Take care, Johnny! some more water mind your business,
will you? Just as often as I go to fetch 'em, Miss Ellen,
and no oftener."
"And how often do you go, Mr. Van Brunt?"
"Only when I've some other errand Miss Ellen; my grain would
never be in the barn if I was running to the post-office every
other thing and for what ain't there, too. I don't get a
letter but two or three times a-year I s'pose, though I call
I guess half-a-dozen times."
"Ah, but there's one there now, or soon will be, I know, for
me," said Ellen. "When do you think you will go again, Mr. Van
Brunt?"
"Now, if I'd ha' know'd that, I'd ha' gone to Thirlwall
yesterday I was within a mile of it. I don't see as I can go
this week, anyhow, in the world; but I'll make some errand
there the first day I can, Miss Ellen that you may depend
on. You shan't wait for your letter a bit longer than I can
help."
"Oh, thank you, Mr. Van Brunt you're very kind. Then the
letters never come except when you go after them?"
"No; yes they do come once in a while by old Mr. Swaim,
but he han't been here this great while."
"And who's he?" said Ellen.
"Oh, he's a queer old chip that goes round the country on all
sorts of errands; he comes along once in a while. That'll do,
Johnny I believe this here tool is as sharp as I have any
occasion for."
"What's the use of pouring water upon the grindstone?" said
Ellen; "why wouldn't it do as well dry?"
"I can't tell, I am sure," replied Mr. Van Brunt, who was
slowly drawing his thumb over the edge of the axe; "your
questions are a good deal too sharp for me, Miss Ellen; I only
know it would spoil the axe, or the grindstone, or both, most
likely."
"It's very odd," said Ellen, thoughtfully "I wish I knew
everything. But, O dear! I am not likely to know anything,"
said she, her countenance suddenly changing from its pleased
inquisitive look to a cloud of disappointment and sorrow. Mr.
Van Brunt noticed the change.
"Ain't your aunt going to send you to school, then?" said he.
"I don't know," said Ellen, sighing "she never speaks about
it, nor about anything else. But I declare I'll make her!" she
exclaimed, changing again. "I'll go right in and ask her, and
then she'll have to tell me. I will! I am tired of living so.
I'll know what she means to do, and then I can tell what _I_
must do."
Mr. Van Brunt, seemingly dubious about the success of this
line of conduct, stroked his chin and his axe alternately two
or three times in silence, and finally walked off. Ellen,
without waiting for her courage to cool, went directly into
the house.
Miss Fortune, however, was not in the kitchen; to follow her
into her secret haunts, the dairy, cellar, or lower kitchen,
was not to be thought of. Ellen waited a while, but her aunt
did not come, and the excitement of the moment cooled down.
She was not quite so ready to enter upon the business as she
had felt at first; she had even some qualms about it.
"But I'll do it!" said Ellen to herself "it will be hard,
but I'll do it!"