The Wellfields: A novel. Vol. 3 of 3Fothergill, Jessie
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The Wellfields: A novel. Vol. 3 of 3
Fothergill, Jessie
English fiction -- 19th century
‘Come, sit down and refresh yourself, Ellen, for I am sure you will be
tired,’ said Sara, composedly. And she insisted upon Ellen’s sitting
down, and eating and drinking, while she asked little questions about
England, sitting upright in her chair, and even laughing once or twice,
but always with the same blanched face, the same unnatural fixity of
the eyes; and once Ellen saw how, in a momentary silence, a visible
shudder shook her–how she caught her breath and bit her lips.
All this took away Ellen’s appetite. She scarcely ate anything, but
professed herself mightily refreshed with what she had taken; and then
she rose and began to take away the things, and suggested that it was
time Miss Ford had her supper too.
‘I don’t want anything, thank you,’ she said; and it was in vain that
Ellen urged her to take something–a glass of wine; a bit of bread–for
she dreaded the results of a long fast and a long vigil, coming upon
this present mental and moral anguish.
Sara refused, and there was that in her manner, with all its
gentleness, which prevented Ellen from approaching a step nearer.
She could only grieve silently, and wish intensely that her young
lady had a single friend to whom to turn in this emergency. But there
was no one, neither father nor mother nor brother, to help her with
sympathising heart and strong protecting hand. There was no one but
Ellen herself, and her mental attitude towards the girl always was
and had been one of deference, with all the motherly love she felt
towards her. Amongst Miss Ford’s various friends and acquaintances
at Elberthal, she could think only of one whose face had impressed
her, whose manner and–to use the expressive German word–whose
whole _Wesen_ had carried to her mind the conviction that he was
trustworthy–and that was Rudolf Falkenberg. But he was, so far as she
knew, a new friend, and a man; not one who could be appealed to in such
a case. Thus, nothing remained to the poor woman but, when her mistress
insisted upon it, to go to bed. She did so, on receiving from Sara a
promise that she also would not be long in seeking her room.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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