It was not until night, after Avice, wearied with sorrow and excitement, had gone to bed, that Sara, calling Mrs. Nelson to her, said: ‘Well, Ellen, what do you think of my new arrangement? Are you pleased to have Miss Wellfield here?’ ‘Yes, indeed, ma’am. I never saw a sweeter young lady, nor one that was more of a real lady. She’s one that it will be a pleasure to serve.’ ‘That is well, and I quite agree with you. And—Mr. Wellfield?’ There was a pause before Ellen said: ‘It is much more difficult to judge of a gentleman, on the spot as it were; and for a woman, too. And then he is so much older.’ ‘I know. But you must have formed some opinion of him, Ellen. We never see anyone strange without some impression being made on our minds.’ ‘He is a noble-looking gentleman,’ said Ellen, slowly. ‘What piercing dark eyes he has; and such a presence, and such a voice—such an air, Miss Sara, if I might say so. One does not often see such gentlemen, and——’ ‘Well, Ellen?’ said her mistress, resting her chin upon her hand, and looking fixedly at her, while her heart throbbed. Was he not all that, and more? ‘I was thinking—Miss Sara, you must not think me impertinent. You are like my child, you know.’ ‘I know it. Go on.’ ‘I was thinking that he has a way and a look with him that must make it hard for any woman to withstand him, supposing he were making love to her.’ ‘And is that all?’ Sara asked, almost indignantly; her heart falling, though she was herself at the moment so strongly under the influence of that ‘way’ and that ‘look’—though he had been making love to her, and she had found resistance swept away like a straw down a strong current. ‘Is that all? Ellen, you know you are evading my questions. You know that I want to know whether he looked high-minded and good.’ ‘And that is just what I cannot say, my dear. I cannot tell. He looks splendid—I know that. He looks a gentleman, and a very grand gentleman. And I saw nothing to make me think he would not be good. But, since you will know all, Miss Sara, I thought there was a look about his lips, as if he could be cruel on occasion.’ ‘Cruel, Ellen? What do you mean?’ ‘Nay, don’t look at me in that way, ma’am! You would make me speak, and I’m bound to tell the truth, I don’t mean that he looked as if he would hurt an animal, or wilfully torment anything, but he looked to me as if, supposing he was hard pressed, for instance, he could be cruel, and unscrupulous—as if he would gain his end, choose what he had to do to get to it.’ ‘Oh,’ said Sara, with a somewhat nervous laugh, ‘you mean that he has a very strong will. I hope indeed that he has, Ellen, for he will need it, I assure you.’