Presently she heard the voice of the chambermaid upstairs, at
a distance at first, and coming nearer and nearer. "Breakfast
ready, ladies! — Ladies, breakfast ready!" — and then came all
the people in a rush pouring down the stairs over Ellen's
head. She kept quite still and close, for she did not want to
see anybody, and could not bear that anybody should see her.
Nobody did see her — they all went off into the next cabin,
where breakfast was set. Ellen began to grow tired of her
hiding-place, and to feel restless in her confinement — she
thought this would be a good time to get away; so she crept
from her station under the stairs, and mounted them as quick
and as quietly as she could. She found almost nobody left in
the saloon — and, breathing more freely, she possessed herself
of her despised bonnet, which she had torn off her head in the
first burst of her indignation, and passing gently out at the
door, went up the stairs which led to the promenade deck — she
felt as if she could not get far enough from Mrs. Dunscombe.

The promenade-deck was very pleasant in the bright morning
sun: and nobody was there except a few gentlemen. Ellen sat
down on one of the settees that were ranged along the middle
of it, and much pleased at having found herself such a nice
place of retreat, she once more took up her interrupted
amusement of watching the banks of the river.

It was a fair, mild day, near the end of October, and one of
the loveliest of that lovely month. Poor Ellen, however, could
not fairly enjoy it just now. There was enough darkness in her
heart to put a veil over all nature's brightness. The thought
did pass through her mind, when she first went up, how very