The Wide, Wide World. Warner Susan
and there she stood, unable to speak or to go any further. "Can that be Aunt Fortune?" she thought; "she can't be as old as that!"
In another minute a door opened at her right, just behind the old woman's back, and a second figure appeared at the top of a flight of stairs which led down from the kitchen. She came in, shutting the door behind her with her foot; and indeed, both hands were full, one holding a lamp and a knife, and the other a plate of butter. The sight of Ellen stopped her short.
"What is this? and what do you leave the door open for, child?" she said.
She advanced towards it, plate and lamp in hand, and setting her back against the door, shut it vigorously.
"Who are you? and what's wanting?"
"I am Ellen Montgomery, ma'am," said Ellen timidly.
"What?" said the lady, with some emphasis.
"Didn't you expect me, ma'am?" said Ellen; "papa said he would write."
"Why, is this Ellen Montgomery?" said Miss Fortune, apparently forced to the conclusion that it must be.
"Yes, ma'am," said Ellen.
Miss Fortune went to the table and put the butter and the lamp in their places. "Did you say your father wrote to tell me of your coming?"
"He said he would, ma'am," said Ellen.
"He didn't! Never sent me a line. Just like him! I never yet knew Morgan Montgomery do a thing when he promised he would."
Ellen's face flushed, and her heart swelled. She stood motionless.
"How did you get down here to-night?"
"I came in Mr. Van Brunt's ox-cart," said Ellen.
"Mr. Van Brunt's ox-cart! Then he's got home, has he?" And hearing at that instant a noise outside, Miss Fortune swept to the door, saying as she opened it, "Sit down, child, and take off your things."
The first command at least Ellen obeyed gladly; she did not feel enough at home to comply with the second. She only took off her bonnet.
"Well, Mr. Van Brunt," said Miss Fortune at the door, "have you brought me a barrel of flour?"
"No, Miss Fortune," said the voice of Ellen's charioteer, "I've brought you something better than that."
"Where did you find her?" said Miss Fortune, something shortly.
"Up at Forbes's."
"What have you got there?"
"A trunk. Where is it to go?"
"A trunk! Bless me! it must go upstairs; but how it is ever to get there, I am sure I don't know."
"I'll find a way to get it there, I'll engage, if you'll be so good as to open the door for me, ma'am."
"Indeed you won't! That'll never do! With your shoes!" said Miss Fortune, in a tone of indignant housewifery.
"Well, without my shoes then," said Mr. Van Brunt, with a half giggle, as Ellen heard the shoes kicked off. "Now, ma'am, out of my way; give me a road."
Miss Fortune seized the lamp, and opening another door, ushered Mr. Van Brunt and the trunk out of the kitchen and up, Ellen saw not whither. In a minute or two they returned, and he of the ox-cart went out.
"Supper's just ready, Mr. Van Brunt," said the mistress of the house.
"Can't stay, ma'am, it's so late; must hurry home." And he closed the door behind him.
"What made you so late?" asked Miss Fortune of Ellen.
"I don't know, ma'am – I believe Mr. Van Brunt said the blacksmith had kept him."
Miss Fortune bustled about a few minutes in silence, setting some things on the table and filling the teapot.
"Come," she said to Ellen, "take off your coat and come to the table. You must be hungry by this time. It's a good while since you had your dinner, ain't it? Come, mother."
The old lady rose, and Miss Fortune taking her chair, set it by the side of the table next the fire. Ellen was opposite to her, and now, for the first time, the old lady seemed to know that she was in the room. She looked at her very attentively, but with an expressionless gaze which Ellen did not like to meet, though otherwise her face was calm and pleasant.
"Who is that?" inquired the old lady presently of Miss Fortune, in a half whisper.
"That's Morgan's daughter," was the answer.
"Morgan's daughter! Has Morgan a daughter?"
"Why, yes, mother; don't you remember I told you a month ago he was going to send her here?"
The old lady turned again with a half shake of her head towards Ellen. "Morgan's daughter," she repeated to herself softly; "she's a pretty little girl – very pretty. Will you come round here and give me a kiss, dear?"
Ellen submitted. The old lady folded her in her arms and kissed her affectionately. "That's your grandmother, Ellen," said Miss Fortune, as Ellen went back to her seat.
Ellen had no words to answer. Her aunt saw her weary, down look, and soon after supper proposed to take her upstairs. Ellen gladly followed her. Miss Fortune showed her to her room, and first asking if she wanted anything, left her to herself. It was a relief. Ellen's heart had been brimful and ready to run over for some time, but the tears could not come then. They did not now, till she had undressed and laid her weary little body on the bed; then they broke forth in an agony. "She did not kiss me! she didn't say she was glad to see me!" thought poor Ellen. But weariness this time was too much for sorrow and disappointment. It was but a few minutes, and Ellen's brow was calm again, and her eyelids still, and with the tears wet upon her cheeks, she was fast asleep.
CHAPTER X
Nimble mischance, that com'st so swift of foot!
The morning sun was shining full and strong in Ellen's eyes when she awoke. Bewildered at the strangeness of everything around her, she raised herself on her elbow, and took a long look at her new home. It could not help but seem cheerful. The bright beams of sunlight streaming in through the windows lighted on the wall and the old wainscoting, and paintless and rough as they were, Nature's own gilding more than made amends for their want of comeliness. Still Ellen was not much pleased with the result of her survey. The room was good-sized, and perfectly neat and clean. It had two large windows opening to the east, through which, morning by morning, the sun looked in; that was another blessing. But the floor was without the sign of a carpet, and the bare boards looked to Ellen very comfortless. The hard-finished walls were not very smooth nor particularly white. The doors and wood-work, though very neat, and even carved with some attempt at ornament, had never known the touch of paint, and had grown in the course of years to be of a light brown colour. The room was very bare of furniture, too. A dressing-table, pier-table, or what-not, stood between the windows, but it was only a half-circular top of pine board set upon three very long, bare-looking legs – altogether of a most awkward and unhappy appearance, Ellen thought, and quite too high for her to use with any comfort. No glass hung over it, nor anywhere else. On the north side of the room was a fireplace; against the opposite wall stood Ellen's trunk and two chairs. That was all, except the cot bed she was lying on, and which had its place opposite the windows. The coverlid of that came in for a share of her displeasure, being of home-made white and blue worsted mixed with cotton, exceedingly thick and heavy.
"I wonder what sort of a blanket is under it," said Ellen, "if I can ever get it off to see! Pretty good, but the sheets are cotton, and so is the pillow-case."
She was still leaning on her elbow, looking around her with a rather discontented face, when some door being opened downstairs, a great noise of hissing and spluttering came to her ears, and presently after there stole to her nostrils a steaming odour of something very savoury from the kitchen. It said as plainly as any dressing-bell that she had better get up. So up she jumped, and set about the business of dressing with great alacrity. Where was the distress of last night? Gone – with the darkness. She had slept well; the bracing atmosphere had restored strength and spirits; and the bright morning light made it impossible