"And the bodily health He has given you is, after all, but a small blessing when compared with the spiritual health which He is willing to bestow upon all who seek it at His hands," said Miss Graham.
But here the arrival of the train interrupted the talk, and there was little time for further words. Ellen and Jerry were soon placed in a carriage, and as the train bore them away, joyously waving farewells to the friends they left behind, Miss Graham thought she had never seen such happy faces as theirs.
What a pleasant journey that was! It was now nearly a year since Ellen had quitted her home, and many a pang of home-sickness had she experienced in the interval. Absence had taught her to value her parents' love, and to long for the presence of the little ones, whom in past days she had often found tiresome. But she had learned higher lessons since her departure—lessons in the school of the Great Master, which she could never forget, and which made her, in many respects, a different being from the Ellen Mansfield of a year ago.
As the train sped on its way, bearing them from the smoky town, with its gloomy streets and crowded wharves, to the peaceful beauty of country scenes, Jerry felt inclined to sing for joy, and snatches of hymns he had heard in the hospital broke every now and then from his lips. The train moved too slowly for him. At each station they gained, he eagerly inquired of his sister how long it would be before they reached the one at which their father would meet them, and it seemed to his impatience as if they would never get there.
But at length, Ellen was able to say, "The next station will be ours, Jerry."
And soon, he felt the train slackening speed, and caught sight of his father standing on the platform, looking out for them. It was well his sister was there to take care of him, or he would certainly have sprung out before the train stopped, or have run some such risk of undoing all that the doctors had been able to do for him.
"My little man, how well you look!" exclaimed his father, as he helped him from the carriage. "And how bravely you walk!" he added, as Jerry, eager to show himself off to the best advantage, stepped out at his quickest pace.
The father's heart was more glad than words could express, and with the back of his hard, brown hand, he hastily dashed a tear from his eye, ere he helped his boy and girl into the cart which stood outside the station. They did not talk much as they drove home through the winding lanes on that bright summer afternoon. Somehow the hearts of all three seemed too full for many words, but the exclamations which burst from Ellen and Jerry at the sight of each familiar object they passed, were sufficiently eloquent.
At last, the farmhouse came into view, with a group of children standing at the gate, one head rising above another, as they watched for the first sign of the expected one's approach. A shout of joy was raised as they caught sight of the vehicle, and the noise brought their mother to the door.
Oh, how thankful she felt, as she lifted her boy from the cart, and held him in a warm embrace! Then she turned to receive her other child, whose radiant looks testified that she had quite recovered from the misadventure which had caused her mother such grief and alarm. Then the children pressed around their brother and sister, and kisses and hugs were exchanged, and questions and answers followed each other so rapidly that the talk seemed like a game of "cross questions and crooked answers."