In the morning Mrs. Ross and Joanna left Mr. Ross and Ellen together for
a few minutes: he drew his chair close to hers, and said, "Do not think,
Ellen, I wish to tease or distress you; but tell me, will it not be
better that you remain our guest for the present? You cannot, when left
alone at Llanwyllan, refuse to admit Mr. Mordaunt without a
particularity which it is on all accounts better to avoid: but here,
even if he comes, you may see him with propriety; and when he finds no
opportunity of entertaining you alone, he will probably cease to visit
us, and perhaps leave Llanwyllan altogether." His mild expressive eyes
glanced over Ellen's countenance: he saw her shrink and tremble at the
painful idea he had excited; and while her every feature expressed the
most exquisite anguish, the good man gently sighed, and removing his
eyes from her face, endeavoured to conceal his knowledge of her
distress. As he seemed to wait her answer, Ellen made a strong effort,
and said, "The plan you propose, Sir, is undoubtedly the best: if you
will be troubled with me, I will remain as long as you please." This
matter settled, Ross undertook to reconcile Powis to spare Ellen for a
short time; and reading her apprehensions in her countenance, said
softly, "Fear not: I will give him sufficient reasons, without exciting
his displeasure, or even his suspicion of our real motive." Ross
accordingly went to the Farm, and meeting with Powis in one of the
fields near the house, he told him that Ellen was not quite well, though
better than she had been the night before, and therefore his wife wished
to detain her a few days at the Parsonage to remove her cold, and would
herself visit the Farm for an hour or two, to settle the concerns of the
dairy, poultry-yard, &c. &c. and that they should be very glad to see
him in the evening, or at any of their meals, when he could make it
convenient. These little arrangements between the two families had till
very lately been so frequent, that Powis felt not the least surprize,
though he owned he was sorry Ellen had not come home the night before,
as Mr. Mordaunt had seemed rather hurt about it; "And he has been so
very civil and kind, you know, neighbour Ross, that one would not wish
to affront him." So perfectly unsuspicious was this good man, that not a
thought crossed his mind of the possible intention of Mordaunt's visits;
and secure in Ellen's fancied affection for Charles Ross, he never
dreamt of her thinking of any other man. Ross silently acquiesced in
what he said, and then went into the house to deliver some directions to
the servant, and which, he said, Mrs. Ross should go herself in the
course of the day to see executed. In the common sitting-room Ross found
the maps and books at which Mordaunt and Ellen had been looking the
preceding day (his wife had told him the circumstances of her visit): he
was rather surprized at the neatness and even elegance of their binding,
though merely what might be called school-books in geography and
grammar, and found that the maps were excellent and expensive. On the
window lay a beautifully bound volume or two of Shakespeare, Thomson's
Seasons, marked and underlined at the description of Lavinia, Cowper's
Poems, and two or three others; in all of which was written, "Ellen
Powis, the gift of her friend Constantine." And in two or three were
short passages in Italian and French, written in a small hand with a
pencil, expressive of admiration and regard, and evidently applied to
Ellen. From one of them dropt the following