"O Lord Jesus, we know that Thou art the Great Physician, and can make people well, and art willing to help us in all troubles. Look upon dear Nelly, O Lord, we pray, and make her soon well again, and bless and comfort us, and give us more faith in Thee. Amen."
"Amen," murmured his mother, "amen."
And she rose up stronger in heart, and set about making preparations for her speedy departure. In these, her husband soon aided her, for he was as anxious as his wife that the "poor lass" should not be left alone in suffering any longer than could be helped. They had but vague notions of the arrangements of a hospital, and thought of it as an undesirable abode. Had they known the comforts and advantages which Ellen enjoyed, they might not have bewailed her situation as they did.
It was no easy matter for Mrs. Mansfield to leave her baby and little children, even to go to her eldest child, the thought of whose sufferings so excited her motherly love and pity. But she had full confidence in the elder ones, Tom and Lucy, to whose care she entrusted their young brothers and sisters. With many careful injunctions, and not without tears, she at length said good-bye to them all, and started to catch the train for Charmouth. The remembrance of Jerry's prayer went with her, and more than once on her journey thither, did her heart repeat its simple petitions.
[CHAPTER XIII.]
MOTHER AND DAUGHTER.
MISS MANSFIELD had assured her sister that she would do all she could for Ellen, and she kept her promise, for although her letter had expressed no pity for her niece, her heart felt for the girl, and she regretted her sufferings none the less that her sense of justice pronounced them deserved.
On the morning following the accident, she had called at the hospital to inquire for Ellen, but had not been allowed to see her, as she was then asleep. The next day she again came to visit her, bringing some oranges as a token of good-will. Ellen had rather dreaded seeing her aunt, fearing she would reproach her for her disobedience. But her aunt's manner was kinder and more gentle than she had yet known it. The words in which she attempted to express her sympathy were abrupt and somewhat peculiar, it is true, but they expressed genuine feeling, and she refrained from making any allusion to the origin of the disaster.
When Ellen, overcoming with an effort her reluctance, sorrowfully confessed her fault, and begged her aunt to forgive her, Miss Mansfield answered dryly,—
"There's no need of many words about that. I reckon you've had a lesson you won't forget in a hurry, and what's done can't be undone, so there's an end to it."