"But, Ellen," he added, one night after she had related many events in Joseph's early life, "you have a brother still. As long as I live, I will take care of you."
"Thank you, dear Frank," she answered, warmly; "but you know father will need me soon. I must go home and finish my education in the city."
"Then I wish you had never come at all!" he exclaimed, throwing her hand petulantly from him. "I thought you would stay here always; your father has Alice."
"And Uncle Collins has a wife and Mary and a passionate boy," Ellen answered, laughing. "When I'm gone, you'll be sorry you treated my poor hand so badly."
The youth gazed a moment in his cousin's face, then left the room without speaking.
I do not mean to give the impression that Ellen had changed suddenly from a passionate, deceitful child to a yielding, truthful one. She still had many faults to overcome, some of which sorely tried the patience of her good aunt: but the influences around her were all in her favor, and she was trying to do right.
The suffering and mortification sue endured during the first weeks of her residence with her aunt fixed indelibly on her mind the sin of lying as well as the happiness resulting from perfect truthfulness. More than all, Ellen, having learned by sad experience the weakness as well as the sinfulness of her own heart, sought strength from above to resist all temptation to do evil. Every day she witnessed in the conduct of a schoolmate the sad consequences of lying, and was more than ever resolved to guard carefully the door of her lips lest her mouth should utter deceit.
Josey Maxwell was an only child, indulged in every wish that her foolish little heart could form. At last her mother was taken sick and died, leaving her daughter to the care of the old housekeeper. This woman soon grew tired of her whims and caprices, and in the absence of her father, sent her to school. There she was under restraint, which soon grew so irksome that she resorted to every means to evade it.
With the most unblushing effrontery, she told falsehood after falsehood to her teacher as an excuse for not learning her lessons. Sometimes she had been suffering from severe headache, or her book was lost, or the housekeeper wished her to go away on an errand, or a letter from her father required an immediate answer. But on inquiring at home, the teacher found not one of these excuses had any foundation in fact. Then, in her reports, she could not be trusted; and so hardened was she by her guilt that she scarcely seemed to feel any mortification when a schoolmate was appointed over her to render a report in her place. At last she was expelled from school, the teacher fearing her corrupt example would have a bad effect on her associates.
A few days later, Ellen was walking slowly past Mr. Maxwell's handsome house in the village, when Josey came out and greeted her in the most cordial manner. The young girl was quite handsome, and, when so disposed, could render herself very agreeable. She urged Ellen to go in and see her, and our young friend, hoping to do her good, after a moment's hesitation, complied.