LEFT to herself in a strange place, with none but strangers near, and suffering such pain as she had never known before, Ellen felt very unhappy. The long ward, with its double row of small white beds, seemed dreary to her, and she longed to be in her own dear home, tended by her mother's hands, and cheered by her father's loving words.
The nurse who waited upon her was most kind, and did her best to comfort the poor girl. But she could not understand the thoughts which troubled the sufferer's mind, and made her situation so unendurable. The knowledge that this suffering was the result of her own wilfulness and folly added to her pain. If only she had had the courage to resist Julia's persuasions, and act rightly, this trouble would not have befallen her.
How it would distress her mother to receive a letter from Aunt Matilda telling her of what had occurred! And Jerry! How sorry Jerry would be! Ellen could picture the dismay the news would cause in her home. And the thought that all this might have been prevented if she had but acted wisely, was not reassuring.
Night approached, and stillness and repose pervaded the ward. Most of its occupants slept through the night, but there were a few whose maladies deprived them of rest. Ellen was one of these. Her burns smarted so sorely that sleep was out of the question, and as the night wore on her agitation of mind increased.
She began to fear that she might not recover. She had heard of persons dying from the effect of burns—what if she should die?
Oh, how the thought of death alarmed her! What a terrible sense of her sinfulness and unworthiness it awakened! How different her past conduct, which had been so easily excused, looked in the light cast upon it by that thought! She remembered how of late she had neglected reading her Bible, and had been glad to banish from her mind the serious thoughts that had been aroused by Miss Graham's earnest teaching. How she had suffered herself to be persuaded by Julia into doing much that she knew to be wrong, and had even uttered words which were not true. Oh, how the recollection now troubled her!
The pangs of conscience were sharper than her bodily pains.
The fear of dying all unprepared as she was, threw her into an agony. She longed for the presence of some friend to whom she might confide all that troubled her, and who could give her comfort. If only Miss Graham were there!
Ellen raised herself on her elbow, and from her bed in the corner looked down the long, dimly-lighted ward. Was there any one there so wicked and miserable as herself? she wondered.
The night nurse was seated at some distance from Ellen's bed, but she heard her move, and came at once to her.