dining-room
twice a week, and prepare her for confirmation (for by some accident she
had never been confirmed) by explaining to her the geography of Palestine
and the routes taken by St Paul on his various journeys in Asia Minor.
When Bishop Treadwell did actually come down to Battersby and hold a
confirmation there (Christina had her wish, he slept at Battersby, and
she had a grand dinner party for him, and called him "My lord" several
times), he was so much struck with her pretty face and modest demeanour
when he laid his hands upon her that he asked Christina about her. When
she replied that Ellen was one of her own servants, the bishop seemed, so
she thought or chose to think, quite pleased that so pretty a girl should
have found so exceptionally good a situation.
Ernest used to get up early during the holidays so that he might play the
piano before breakfast without disturbing his papa and mamma--or rather,
perhaps, without being disturbed by them. Ellen would generally be there
sweeping the drawing-room floor and dusting while he was playing, and the
boy, who was ready to make friends with most people, soon became very
fond of her. He was not as a general rule sensitive to the charms of the
fair sex, indeed he had hardly been thrown in with any women except his
Aunts Allaby, and his Aunt Alethea, his mother, his sister Charlotte and
Mrs Jay; sometimes also he had had to take off his hat to the Miss
Skinners, and had felt as if he should sink into the earth on doing so,
but his shyness had worn off with Ellen, and the pair had become fast
friends.
Perhaps it was well that Ernest was not at home for very long together,
but as yet his affection though hearty was quite Platonic. He was not
only innocent, but deplorably--I might even say guiltily--innocent. His
preference was based upon the fact that Ellen never scolded him, but was
always smiling and good tempered; besides she used to like to hear him
play, and this gave him additional zest in playing. The morning access
to the piano was indeed the one distinct advantage which the holidays had
in Ernest's eyes, for at school he could not get at a piano except quasi-
surreptitiously at the shop of Mr Pearsall, the music-seller.
On returning this midsummer he was shocked to find his favourite looking
pale and ill. All her good spirits had left her, the roses had fled from
her cheek, and she seemed on the point of going into a decline. She said
she was un
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