"Mamma, you know I shall want to be writing a great deal; wouldn't it be a good thing for me to have a little box with some pens in it, and an inkstand, and some paper and wafers? Because, Mamma, you know I shall be among strangers at first, and I shan't like asking them for these things as often as I shall want them, and may be they wouldn't want to let me have them if I did."
"I have thought of that already, daughter," said Mrs. Montgomery, with a smile and a sigh. "I will certainly take care that you are well provided in that respect before you go."
"How am I to go, Mamma?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, who will go with me? You know I can't go alone,
Mamma."
"No, my daughter. I'll not send you alone. But your father says it is impossible for him to take the journey at present, and it is yet more impossible for me. There is no help for it, daughter, but we must intrust you to the care of some friend going that way; but He that holds the winds and waters in the hollow of his hand, can take care of you without any of our help, and it is to his keeping above all that I shall commit you."
Ellen made no remark, and seemed much less surprised and troubled than her mother had expected. In truth, the greater evil swallowed up the less. Parting from her mother, and for so long a time, it seemed to her comparatively a matter of little importance with whom she went, or how, or where. Except for this, the taking a long journey under a stranger's care? would have been a dreadful thing to her.
"Do you know yet who it will be that I shall go with, Mamma?"
"Not yet; but it will be necessary to take the first good opportunity, for I cannot go till I have seen you off. and it is thought very desirable that I should get to sea before the severe weather comes."
It was with a pang that these words were spoken and heard, but neither showed it to the other.