"I wish Miss Alice would look after her own affairs, and let other people's houses alone. That's always the way with your pieces of perfection — they're eternally finding out something that isn't as it ought to be among their neighbours. I think people that don't set up for being quite such great things, get along quite as well in the world." Ellen was strongly tempted to reply, but kept her lips shut. "I'll tell you what," said Miss Fortune — "if you want me to believe that all this talk means something, I'll tell you what you shall do — you shall just tell Mr. Van Brunt to-morrow about it all, and how ugly you have been these two days, and let him know you were wrong and I was right. I believe he thinks you cannot do anything wrong, and I should like him to know it for once." Ellen struggled hard with herself before she could speak; Miss Fortune's lips began to wear a scornful smile. "I'll tell him!" said Ellen, at length; "I'll tell him I was wrong, if you wish me to." "I _do_ wish it. I like people's eyes to be opened. It'll do him good, I guess, and you too. Now, have you anything more to say?" Ellen hesitated; — the colour came and went; she knew it wasn't a good time, but how could she wait? "Aunt Fortune," she said, "you know I told you I behaved very ill about that letter — won't you forgive me?" "Forgive you? yes, child; I don't care anything about it." "Then you will be so good as to let me have my letter again?" said Ellen, timidly. "Oh, I can't be bothered to look for it now; I'll see about it some other time; take your candle and go to bed now, if you've nothing more to say." Ellen took her candle and went. Some tears were wrung from her by hurt feeling and disappointment; but she had the smile of conscience, and, as she believed, of Him whose witness conscience is. She remembered that "great rock in a weary land," and she went to sleep in the shadow of it. The next day was Saturday. Ellen was up early; and after carefully performing her toilet duties, she had a nice long hour before it was time to go down stairs. The use she made of this hour had fitted her to do cheerfully and well her morning work; and Ellen would have sat down to breakfast in excellent spirits if it had not been for her promised disclosure to Mr. Van Brunt. It vexed her a little. "I told Aunt Fortune — that was all right; but why I should be obliged to tell Mr. Van Brunt, I don't know. But if it convinces aunt Fortune that I am in earnest, and meant what I say — then I had better." Mr. Van Brunt looked uncommonly grave, she thought; her aunt, uncommonly satisfied. Ellen had more than half a guess at the reason of both; but make up her mind to speak she could not, during all breakfast time. She ate, without knowing what she was eating.