"Not to me, dear Ellen," replied Mrs. Montgomery, pressing closer the little form that lay in her arms; "I have never found it so. But yet I know that the Lord Jesus is far, far more worthy of your affection than I am; and if your heart were not hardened by sin, you would see him so; it is only because you do not know him that you love me better. Pray, pray, my dear child, that he would take away the power of sin, and show you himself; that is all that is wanting."
"I will, Mamma," said Ellen, tearfully. "Oh, Mamma, what shall
I do without you?"
Alas! Mrs. Montgomery's heart echoed the question she had no answer.
"Mamma," said Ellen, after a few minutes, "can I have no true love to Him at all unless I love him best?"
"I dare not say that you can," answered her mother, seriously.
"Mamma," said Ellen, after a little, again raising her head, and looking her mother full in the face, as if willing to apply the severest test to this hard doctrine, and speaking with an indescribable expression, "do you love him better than you do me?"
She knew her mother loved the Saviour, but she thought it scarcely possible that herself could have but the second place in her heart; she ventured a bold question, to prove whether her mother's practice would not contradict her theory.
But Mrs. Montgomery answered steadily, "I do, my daughter;" and, with a gush of tears, Ellen sank her head again upon her bosom. She had no more to say; her mouth was stopped for ever as to the right of the matter, though she still thought it an impossible duty in her own particular case.
"I do, indeed, my daughter," repeated Mrs. Montgomery; "that does not make my love to you the less, but the more, Ellen."
"Oh, Mamma, Mamma!" said Ellen, clinging to her, "I wish you would teach me! I have only you, and I am going to lose you. What shall I do, Mamma?"