Ellen had been very busy all day, and a little coldness still hung about Joanna, who could not forget her decided rejection of Charles: she had also been much employed, and told Ellen the evening before she should not see her on that day. "But Mr. Mordaunt will," added she, with some asperity, "and that will make full amends for my absence." "You are unkind, Joanna," answered Ellen, "and will make me wish Mr. Mordaunt had never visited Llanwyllan." Joanna shook her head with an air of incredulity, and left her. Mordaunt found Ellen therefore alone, and busily engaged amongst her shrubs and flowers. The brisk evening air, exercise, and the delight she took in her employment, had given fresh beauty to her complexion, and new animation to her eyes. After the first greetings had passed, he requested to assist her, and mounting a ladder, which a Welsh boy, who was executing the more laborious parts of the employment held for him, he busied himself in giving a new turn to the festoons which hung from tree to tree. Ellen stood below, and as she looked up to direct him, a long shoot of the clematis fell from his hand, and became entangled in her straw hat. Fearing to break it, he descended, and while he endeavoured to untwist it, the straw hat fell to the ground; and as Ellen had not, as usual, her modest muslin cap, her beautiful hair became for the first time exposed to his view, and he stood gazing at her bright auburn ringlets and fair-polished temples, as if transfixed. Beautiful as he had always thought her, he never saw her look so beautiful as now, and her increasing colour at length reminded him that his gaze was becoming oppressive. Instantly he withdrew his eyes, and taking up the hat, and brushing off some dust which adhered to it, he presented it to her with an air of respect, and said, "I am a very awkward gardener; I have spoiled your bonnet." "Indeed," said Ellen, "on the contrary, I should think you had practised it all your life, you seem so well versed in the employment."--"Would to heaven I had," answered Mordaunt, "and never known any thing beyond the culture of these shrubs, and the sweet shades of Llanwyllan." And now Ellen saw for the first time a peculiar expression in his eyes, and a gloom over his countenance, which reminded her of what Joanna had said respecting him; but Ellen put a different construction upon it, and had she known Shakespeare would have said, "He wrings at some distress: would I might free it, what-e'er it be." To divert his thoughts, she said, in the softest tone, "What a wish! How different are my sentiments! I would give worlds, had my lot resembled your's; had I been employed not solely in the culture of these trees, myself almost as much a vegetable, but, like you, cultivating my mind, my manners, and forming myself into a companion for--the wise and good!" The soft expressive pause spoke volumes to the heart of Mordaunt, and he could not help replying, "You are already a fit companion for angels."