Ellen, for some unaccountable reason, which her young friends could
neither penetrate nor conceive, refused to accompany them, declaring
that most important business kept her at home.

"Edward will not come to-day, so do not expect him," had been Emmeline's
parting words.

The ruralizing party were to dine amid the ruins of Berry Pomeroy, and
were not expected home till dusk, to a substantial tea.

It might have been seven in the evening that Ellen quietly entered the
library, where her aunt was engaged in writing, and stood by her side in
silence, as if fearful of interrupting by addressing her.

"Wait a few minutes, my love, and I shall be ready to attend to you, if
you require my assistance in the arrangement of your work," Mrs.
Hamilton said, alluding to the parcel of baby-linen she perceived in her
niece's hand. Ellen smiled and obeyed. In a few minutes Mrs. Hamilton
laid aside her writing, and looked up, as if expecting her niece would
speak.

"Well, Ellen, what grand difficulty can you not overcome?"

"None, my dear aunt. My task is done; I only want your approval,"
replied Ellen.

"Done!" repeated her aunt, in an accent of astonishment. "My dear Ellen,
it is impossible; I only gave it you a week ago. You must have worked
all night to finish it"