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The last day of the dramatic portion of Leonora's life was that on which she went to London with Milly. They were up early, in order to catch the morning express, and, before leaving, Leonora arranged with the excited Bessie all details for the reception of Ethel and Fred, who were to arrive in the afternoon from their honeymoon.
Very strongly moved by the misfortune, as by the caresses and affection of the poor orphaned creature, Ethel took the little girl to her heart, and promised to be a mother to her, and that she would not leave her; in which pious resolve I scarcely need say Laura strengthened her, when, at her young friend's urgent summons, my wife came to her.
She even talked of Ogilvie as a second Christian name, but Meta observed that old Aunt Dorothy would call it Leonorar Rogilvie Rivers, and thus averted it, somewhat to Ethel's satisfaction. Ethel scolded herself many times for wondering whether Mr. Ogilvie would come. What was it to her? Suppose he should; suppose the rest. What a predicament!
"You know it is for your own sake, and to make up for their injustice, that he invites you, or Flora either." "Hush, Ethel! he gives himself quite airs enough already," said the doctor. "Papa!" said Ethel, in vexation, though he gave her a pinch to show it was all in good humour, while he went on, "I am glad to hear they do leave him to himself in a corner. A very good thing too!
Emerson, as he threw in the clutch and started toward the outskirts of Rosemont where he had land enough to allow him to do a little farming. "Helen and Ethel Brown have gone to the West Woods," replied Roger, accounting for his sisters. "Somebody told them that there was a wild grapevine there that still had yellow leaves bright enough for them to use for decorating tomorrow evening."
So far as I hare been able to explain the matter to myself, my prime error lay in attributing, in a world subject to constant change, too much permanence to a given state of affairs. The fact that Ethel was the wife of another man seemed to me so fixed and unalterable that I allowed my imagination to play with the picture of what might happen if that unalterable fact were altered.
But understanding, I believe that I should do the same again. At the office, when not busy, I wrote more poetry, and began also to write prose, which I found at the outset less easy. Had she not been in Europe that July, I believe that I should have spoken to her at once. But I sent her the paper; and I have the letter that she wrote in reply." "I" began Ethel. But she stopped.
Just listen to her, doctor! said Ethel, stroking her mother's hand, as though she and the doctor were two old and sage persons, and Leonora was a small child. 'They think I'm ill! They think I'm going to collapse! The idea struck her suddenly. 'But I'm not. I'm quite well, and my brain is perfectly clear.
Ethel liked to spend the long quiet evenings, reading or writing, and often sat up till midnight. One afternoon, while they were at lunch, a telegram was brought in, and on opening it, Alice exclaimed delightedly "Charlie will be back in time for dinner." The evening passed away till dinner time but Mr. C. did not arrive and the ladies waited till nine o'clock.
Complete Catalogues sent on application Rosa Mundi By Ethel M. Dell Author of "The Top of the World," "The Lamp in the Desert," "The Way of an Eagle," etc. Some of the finest stories ever written by Miss Ethel M. Dell are gathered together in this volume.
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