"I have lived with such cross, ill-natured people," murmured Ellen.
"Mary has lived with the same people; has it had the same effect on her?"
Ellen was silent.
"My dear child," said Mrs. Herbert, "I have not asked these questions to give you pain. It is not to mortify you, but to give you hope, that I would have you feel the fault to be yours, for your own fault you may correct; not so with the faults of others. And now, having convinced you, I hope, that the fault is your own, the next question is, what has been your fault—shall I tell you this, my love?"
Mrs. Herbert spoke so gently—so affectionately, that Ellen could not be angry. She answered very softly, "If you please."—"What this fault was, Ellen, your own words have shown. You say you have loved others and tried to please them, but you said nothing of loving God, and trying to please Him. You do not seem to have thought that the angry feelings and hasty words which displeased your friends were an offence to Him. You have thought of your temper as an unhappiness for which you were to be pitied, rather than as a great wrong for which you were to be blamed. You have even had hard thoughts of God, as if he had caused this unhappiness. Think of His kindness and love to you, Ellen, and be ashamed of such thoughts. Who but He gave you so tender a father—so kind a sister as Mary—and so generous a friend as your Uncle Villars? Look up at the sky and see the sun which He has placed there to give light and warmth—look around you on the earth, and see the flowers which clothe it with beauty and the fruits which it produces for your gratification—and be humbled, Ellen, that you should have thought this good God unkind?" Mrs. Herbert paused, for she was overcome for a moment by her own emotions.—"Do you not feel His love, Ellen?" she asked at length.
"But he did not make all these good and beautiful things for me," said Ellen, speaking in a whisper, as if she were ashamed of her own cavils.
"If not made for your gratification, Ellen, why were you created with senses to enjoy them—why have you eyes to see, the sense of smell for this delicious perfume which the breeze is bringing to us, and taste to find pleasure in your food?—But the half of His love I have not yet told you. Do you not remember, Ellen, that knowing you to be weak—seeing that you would meet trials and temptations in the world—that you would commit great faults and endure great sufferings in consequence of those faults—He sent His son into the world to show you how these trials might be borne and these temptations resisted, to teach you that He loved you even when you were sinning and suffering, and if you would but love Him in return and strive to please Him, He would aid your weak efforts, would pardon your sins, and give you peace here and heaven hereafter? And it is in this way, dear Ellen, that you can alone hope to get rid of that bad, sinful temper which has caused you so much pain. Think much of the goodness and love of your kind heavenly Father, that you may love and strive to please Him. This will make you watchful over the first beginnings of evil, the first rising up of angry feelings in your heart, and you will strive then to overcome them before they have become strong by indulgence. Yet with all your efforts, Ellen, I do not promise you that you will not often fail; but as you learn to trust in the love of God, you will acknowledge your faults to Him even as you would to an earthly father, and humbly ask Him to pardon and help you: and He will, Ellen,—He will help you, and through His help you shall conquer all evil."
Mrs. Herbert was silent, and Ellen remained for some time with her face concealed, neither speaking nor moving; at length she whispered, "And you will try to love me, Aunt Herbert, though I have told you how bad I am."
"I love you, dear child, a thousand times better for having told me, and I will never love you less for faults which you honestly acknowledge and earnestly strive to correct."
"And you will not tell George and Charles."