She held her arms clapped closely round her; whilst Ella poured a torrent of tears upon her bosom.
"My father! my beautiful, clever, indulgent father, that I was so proud of--that I loved so--who spared nothing upon either of us--alas! alas! how little, little did I guess whence the money came!"
Clementina trembled and shivered as her sister poured forth these passionate lamentations; but she neither wept nor spoke for some time. At last she said:
"Ella, I have been uneasy about things for some time. We are young, and we have not much experience in the ways of the world; but since our poor mother died, and I have had in some degree to manage the house, I have been every day becoming more uncomfortable."
"You have?" said Ella, lifting up her head: "and you never told me!"
"Why should I have told you? why should I have disturbed your dream of happiness, my dear Ella? Besides, I hoped that it concerned me alone--that things might hold on a little while longer--at least, till you were provided for, and safe."
"I did not much think of that. I had a firm friend, I knew, in you, Ella; and then, lately, since mamma's death; since you have been engaged to dear Lionel, and I have been much alone, I have thought of old things--old things that good Matty used to talk about. I have been endeavoring to look beyond myself, and this world; and it has strengthened me."
"But, my father! what is to be done? Can any thing be done?"
"No, my love. I fear nothing can be done."
"He loves me!" said Ella, raising up her head again, her eyes beaming with a new hope. "I will try--I will venture. It is perhaps great presumption in a child; but my father loves me, and I love him...."
"You are so faint-hearted--you are so discouraging. You give up every thing without an attempt to save yourself or others. That is your way!" cried Ella, with her own impetuosity, and some of her old injustice. Then, seeing sorrow and pain working upon her sister's face as she spoke thus, she stopped herself, and cried--"Oh! I am a brute--worse than a brute--to say this. Dear Cle., forgive me; but don't, pray don't discourage me, when I want all my courage. I will go--I will go this moment, and speak to my father...."
Clementina pressed her sister's hand as she started up to go. She feared the effort would be vain,--vain as those she had herself made; yet there was no knowing. Ella was so beautiful, so correct, so eloquent, so prevailing!