Three months had glided away with, at the end of that time, matters
still in the same unsatisfactory state. There had been no open
collision between Max Bray and his sturdy rival; but Laura had long
since learned that, while Max persisted in his present course, there was
no prospect for her to be even on friendly terms with Charley Vining.
She had told her brother this; but he had angrily bade her be silent and
wait, when all would be right in the end.
So Laura waited, to find that Charley now totally ignored her existence,
spending his time either in sitting moodily in his own room, or else in
riding over to Laneton.
But Max Bray was not idle: he literally haunted Laneton; so that at last
Ella was quite confined to the house, and Mrs Brandon had looked grave.
Then came a visit from Sir Philip Vining, who again saw Ella, to part
from her with a kind, gentle, fatherly farewell; and this was the
result:
There were tears flowing fast at Copse Hall; for her few months' stay at
Mrs Brandon's had been sufficient to endear Ella to all there.
Edward, the hard-faced, had confided to cook that he didn't know how
things would go now; while upon cook weeping, and drying her eyes with
her apron, he told her that her conduct was "childish, and wus."
The housemaid looked as if she had a violent cold in her head; while the
children sobbed aloud; for the day had arrived when Ella Bedford was to
leave Copse Hall; Mrs Brandon, though knowing well enough for some time
past that such a course would be the better, yet only now having given
her consent, and that too most unwillingly.
Ella Bedford was to leave Copse Hall, but only for a year. Mrs Brandon
declared a twelvemonth would no doubt serve to alter the state of
affairs, and then she could return.
"For I shall never be happy till I get you back again, child!" Mrs
Brandon exclaimed. "And mind this, my love: I hope that you will be
happy with Mrs Marter, who is a distant relative of my late husband;
but, come what may in the future, there is always a home for you here.
Write and say you are coming, or come without writing, and you shall
always find a warm welcome. These are no unmeaning words, child, but
the utterances of one whom you have made to feel sincerely attached to
you."
"I know that," said Ella softly, as she clung to the motherly arm at her
side.
"I would never have consented to your going, only I cannot help thinking
that it may be for the best in the end; though really, now it has come
to the point, I don't know what I can have been thinking about, not to
decide and leave here myself for a few months. But you promise me
faithfully that you will write often, and that at any time, if there is
any unpleasantry, you will acquaint me?"
"Yes," said Ella, smiling sadly, "I promise."
"I think you will find Mrs Marter kind to you; and I have said
everything that I could."
There was an affectionate leave-taking; and then, once more, Ella awoke
to the fact that she was driven from the home where she had hoped to be
at rest. But this time she bore up bravely, in the hope that the end of
a year would again find her an occupant of Mrs Brandon's pleasant home,
where unvarying kindness and consideration had been her portion from the
day when, low-spirited and desponding, she had first entered what seemed
to be the gloomy portals of a prison.
She told herself that, with the battle of life to fight, she must not
give way to despondency; and nerving herself for all that she might have
to encounter, she sat back in the fly, glancing anxiously from side to
side, to see if she were observed, and in spite of her efforts trembling
excessively, lest at any moment a turn of the road should reveal the
figure of Max Bray or Charley Vining. It did not matter which should
appear, she felt equal dread of the encounter; but upon that occasion
she was not called upon to summon up her often-tested resolution.
The station was reached in safety, her modest luggage labelled for
London; and this time she had taken the precaution of having no farther
address, to act as a clue for those who sought her.
The train sped on, and in due course, and without farther adventure, she
reached the terminus, engaged a cab, when, breathing freely, under the
impression that she had thoroughly escaped pursuit, she was soon being
rattled over the stones of the great metropolis.
Volume 2, Chapter XIV.