"No; it is not far from the town of Thirlwall, but your aunt lives in the open country. Your father says she is a capital housekeeper, and that you will learn more, and be in all respects a great deal happier and better off, than you would be in a boarding-school here or anywhere."
Ellen's heart secretly questioned the truth of this last assertion very much.
"Is there any school near?" she asked.
"Your father says there was an excellent one in Thirlwall when he was there."
"Mamma," said Ellen, "I think the greatest pleasure I shall have while you are gone will be writing to you. I have been thinking of it a good deal. I mean to tell you everything absolutely everything, Mamma. You know there will be nobody for me to talk to as I do to you" (Ellen's words came out with difficulty); "and when I feel badly, I shall just shut myself up and write to you." She hid her face in her mother's lap.
"I count upon it, my dear daughter; it will make quite as much the pleasure of my life, Ellen, as of yours."
"But then, mother," said Ellen, brushing away the tears from her eyes, "it will be so long before my letters can get to you! The things I want you to know right away, you won't know, perhaps, in a month."
"That's no matter, daughter; they will be just as good when they do get to me. Never think of that; write every day, and all manner of things that concern you just as particularly as if you were speaking to me."
"And you'll write to me, too, Mamma?"
"Indeed I will when I can. But, Ellen, you say that when I am away, and cannot hear you, there will be nobody to supply my place. Perhaps it will be so, indeed; but then, my daughter, let it make you seek that Friend who is never far away nor out of hearing. Draw nigh to God, and he will draw nigh to you. You know he has said of his children 'Before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear.' "