been able to bring herself to attack Lottie for writing to
Richard. She knew it was Lottie who had made the mischief, but she could
not be sure that it was mischief till she knew its effect upon Ellen.
The girl had been carried in the arms of one of the stewards from the
carriage to her berth in Lottie's room, and there she had lain through
the night, speechless and sleepless.

IX.

Ellen did not move or manifest any consciousness when the steamer left
her dock and moved out into the stream, or take any note of the tumult
that always attends a great liner's departure. At breakfast-time her
mother came to her from one of the brief absences she made, in the hope
that at each turn she should find her in a different mood, and asked if
she would not have something to eat.

"I'm not hungry," she answered. "When will it sail?"

"Why, Ellen! We sailed two hours ago, and the pilot has just left us."

Ellen lifted herself on her elbow and stared at her. "And you let me!"
she said, cruelly.

"Ellen! I will not have this!" cried her mother, frantic at the
reproach. "What do you mean by my letting you? You knew that we were
going to sail, didn't you? What else did you suppose we had come to the
steamer for?"

"I supposed you would let me stay, if I wanted to: But go away, momma,
go away! You're all against me--you, and poppa, and Lottie, and Boyne.
Oh, dear! oh, dear!" She threw herself down in her berth and covered her
face with the sheet, sobbing, while her mother stood by in an anguish of
pity and anger. She wanted to beat the girl, she wanted to throw herself
upon her, and weep with her in the misery which she shared with her.

Lottie came to the door of the state-room with an arm-load of
long-stemmed roses, the gift of the young Mr. Plumpton, who had not had
so much to be entreated to come down to the steamer and see her off as
Boyne had pretended. "Momma," she said, "I have got to leave these roses
in here, whether Ellen likes it or not. Boyne won't have them in his
room, because he says the man that's with him would have a right to
object; and this is half my room, anyway."

Mrs. Kenton frowned and shook her head, but Ellen answered from under
the sheet, "I don't mind the roses, Lottie. I wish you'd stay with me a
little while."

Lottie hesitated, having in mind the breakfast for which the horn
had just sounded. But apparently she felt that one good turn deserved
another, and she answered: "All right; I will