With a shriek she could not suppress, Alice rushed from the room.
[CHAPTER XXII.]
REWARD OF TRUTHFULNESS.
LET us, now, look forward to a period when Ellen has remained with her aunt four summers, and is almost seventeen years of age. She has grown taller by two inches than her elder sister, and is a fine, rosy-looking girl.
In her studies she has advanced until, at her graduation from an academy in P—, she attained the highest rank. And yet there is nothing especially brilliant about this young country maiden, except her flashing black eyes and the rich plaits of her abundant hair when the sun strikes upon them. She is a simple, warm-hearted, enthusiastic girl, as unlike her quiet Cousin Mary as possible, and yet bound to her in the strong love which both of them cherish for their Saviour.
During all these years, she has never once returned to her city home; but she has not remained a stranger to her father. He has spent long weeks with her, and two years in succession has accompanied her and her Cousin Mary to a distant State, where they had relatives. But now, he wrote his sister, his health was feeble, and he absolutely yearned for the company of his daughter at home.
Ellen shed some tears at the thought of parting from friends who had become so dear, but realized at once that duty required her to do all she could for her father's comfort. How she was to conduct herself away from the influences for good which now surrounded her; how she would resist the temptations to worldliness it a large city, were questions which frequently arose in her mind, but which, like all other trials, she left at the foot of the cross.
At this time, it was decided that at the close of another week, her father was to come and conduct her home. She had begged for this postponement because it was just at the commencement of Frank's college vacation, a time long anticipated for the execution of many cherished plans.
The cousins had, during the day, been very busy in tying straw around their favorite bushes, digging up dahlia-bulbs, and preparing the garden for the approaching frost, but had now finished supper, attended family prayers, and had drawn up around the cheerful fire, presenting a home scene reminding one of the familiar words of Cowper:
"Now stir the fire and close the shutters fast;
Let fall the curtains; wheel the sofa round."