Probably he saw
neither her nor her dress--he was too deeply absorbed.
"You are not ill, are you, papa?"
"Ill!" he answered, rousing himself. "No, Ellen, I am not ill."
"Then you have had something to vex you, papa?"
"I have," emphatically replied Mr. Huntley. "And the worst is, that my
vexation will not be confined to myself, I believe. It may extend to
you, Ellen."
Mr. Huntley's manner was so serious, his look so peculiar as he gazed
at her, that Ellen felt a rush of discomfort, and the colour spread
itself over her fair face. She jumped to the conclusion that she had
been giving offence in some way--that Miss Huntley must have been
complaining of her.
"Has my aunt been telling you about last night, papa? Harry had two of
the college boys here, and I unfortunately laughed and talked with
them, and she said afterwards I had done it on purpose to annoy her.
But I assure you, papa--"
"Never mind assuring me, child," interrupted Mr. Huntley. "Your aunt
has said nothing to me; and if she had, it would go in at one ear and
out at the other. It is worse business than any complaint that she
could bring."
Ellen laid down her pencil, and gazed at her father, awe-struck at his
strange tone. "What is it?" she breathed.
But Mr. Huntley did not answer. He remained perfectly still for a few
moments, absorbed in thought: and then, without a word of any sort to
Ellen, turned round to leave the room, took his hat as he passed
through the hall, and left the house.
Pages:
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448