ar there suddenly developed in
Marcie's stormy breast an overmastering absorbing passion for these two
persons. She did not show it to them much, but for herself it raised
her to another plane of existence, gave her new objects and new
standards. She who had hated going to church now counted time entirely
by Sundays. To see the pulpit occupied by any other form and face than
those of the rector was a calamity hardly to be borne; if the exit of
the school party were delayed by any accident so that Mr. and Mrs.
Ellerton overtook them in the churchyard, Marcella would walk home on
air, quivering with a passionate delight, and in the dreary afternoon of
the school Sunday she would spend her time happily in trying to write
down the heads of Mr. Ellerton's sermon. In the natural course of things
she would, at this time, have taken no interest in such things at all,
but whatever had been spoken by him had grace, thrill, meaning.

Nor was the week quite barren of similar delights. She was generally
sent to practise on an old square piano in one of the top rooms. The
window in front of her overlooked the long white drive and the distant
high road into which it ran. Three times a week on an average Mrs.
Ellerton's pony carriage might be expected to pass along that road.
Every day Marcella watched for it, alive with expectation, her fingers
strumming as they pleased. Then with the first gleam of the white pony
in the distance, over would go the music stool, and the child leapt to
the window, remaining fixed there, breathing quick and eagerly till the
trees on the left had hidden from her the graceful erect figure of Mrs.
Ellerton. Then her moment of Paradise was over; but the afterglow of it
lasted for the day.

So much for romance, for feelings as much like love as childhood can
know them, full of kindling charm and mystery. Her friendship had been
of course different, but it also left deep mark. A tall, consumptive
girl among the Cliff House pupils, the motherless daughter of a
clergyman-friend of Miss Frederick's, had for some time taken notice of
Marcella, and at length won her by nothing else, in the first instance,
than a remarkable gift for story-telling. She was a parlour-boarder, had
a room to herself, and a fire in it when the weather was cold. She was
not held strictly to lesson hours; many delicacies in the way of food
were provided for her, and Miss Frederick watched over her with a quite
maternal solicitude. When wi