"
"She must be a very weak-minded young woman if she marries him against
her will," Ellen said laughing; and then ran off to get the tea ready,
leaving Mrs. Tadman to her meditations, which were not of a lively nature
at the best of times.
That Christmas-day came to an end at last, after a long evening in the
oak parlour enlivened by a solemn game at whist and a ponderous supper of
cold sirloin and mince pies; and looking out at the wintry moonlight, and
the shadowy garden and flat waste of farm-land from the narrow casement
in her own room. Ellen Carley wondered what those she loved best in the
world were doing and thinking of under that moonlit sky. Where was Marian
Holbrook, that new-found friend whom she had loved so well, and whose
fate remained so profound a mystery? and what was Frank Randall doing,
far away in London, where he had gone to fill a responsible position in a
large City firm of solicitors, and whence he had promised to return
faithful to his first love, as soon as he found himself fairly on the
road to a competence wherewith to endow her?
Thus it was that poor Ellen kept the close of her Christmas-day, looking
out over the cold moonlit fields, and wondering how she was to escape
from the persecution of Stephen Whitelaw.
That obnoxious individual had invited Mr.
Pages:
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453