"Then I hope, daughter, they will make you busy for all day.
You have ruffles to hem, and the skirts of your dresses to
make — we need not wait for Miss Rice to do that; and when she
comes, you will have to help her, for I can do little. You
can't be too industrious."

"Well, Mamma, I am as willing as can be."

This was the beginning of a pleasant two weeks to Ellen —
weeks to which she often looked back afterwards, so quietly
and swiftly the days fled away, in busy occupation and sweet
intercourse with her mother. The passions, which were apt
enough to rise in Ellen's mind upon occasions, were, for the
present, kept effectually in check. She could not forget that
her days with her mother would very soon be at an end, for a
long time at least; and this consciousness, always present to
her mind, forbade even the wish to do anything that might
grieve or disturb her. Love and tenderness had absolute rule
for the time, and even had power to overcome the sorrowful
thoughts that would often rise; so that in spite of them peace
reigned. And perhaps both mother and daughter enjoyed this
interval the more keenly because they knew that sorrow was at
hand.

All this while there was scarcely a day that the old
gentleman's servant did not knock at their door, bearing a
present of game. The second time he came with some fine larks;
next was a superb grouse; then woodcock again. Curiosity
strove with astonishment and gratitude in Ellen's mind.