"There is something wrong, then, with you, Ellie," he said, gently. "How has it been through the week? If you can let day after day pass without remembering your best Friend, it may be that when you feel the want you will not readily find Him. How is it daily, Ellie? is seeking his face your first concern? do you give sufficient time faithfully to your Bible and prayer?"
Ellen shook her head; no words were possible. He took up his walk again. The silence lasted a length of time, and he was still walking, when Ellen came to his side and laid her hand on his arm.
"Have you settled that question with your conscience, Ellie?"
She weepingly answered, "Yes.". They walked a few turns up and down.
"Will you promise me, Ellie, that every day when it shall be possible, you will give an hour at least to this business, whatever else may be done or undone?"
Ellen promised; and then with her hand in his they continued their walk through the room till Mr. Humphreys and the servants came in. Her brother's prayer that night Ellen never forgot.
No more was said at that time about her going to Ventnor. But a week or two after, John smilingly told her to get all her private affairs arranged, and to let her friends know they need not expect to see her the next Sunday, for that he was going to take her with him. As she saw he had made up his mind, Ellen said nothing in the way of objecting, and, now that the decision was taken from her, was really very glad to go. She arranged everything, as he had said; and was ready Saturday morning to set off with a very light heart.
They went in the sleigh. In a happy, quiet mood of mind, Ellen enjoyed everything exceedingly. She had not been to Ventnor in several months; the change of scene was very grateful. She could not help thinking, as they slid along smoothly and swiftly over the hard-frozen snow, that it was a good deal pleasanter, for once, than sitting alone in the parlour at home with her work-basket. Those days of solitary duty, however, had prepared her for the pleasure of this one; Ellen knew that, and was ready to be thankful for everything. Throughout the whole way, whether the eye and mind silently indulged in roving, or still better-loved talk interrupted that, as it often did, Ellen was in a state of most unmixed and unruffled satisfaction. John had not the slightest reason to doubt the correctness of his judgment in bringing her. He went in but a moment at Ventnor, and leaving her there, proceeded himself to Randolph.
Ellen was received as a precious lending that must be taken the greatest care of and enjoyed as much as possible while one has it. Mrs. Marshman and Mrs. Chauncey treated her as if she had been their own child. Ellen Chauncey overwhelmed her with joyful caresses, and could scarcely let her out of her arms by night or by day. She was more than ever Mr. Marshman's pet; but, indeed, she was well petted by the family. It was a very happy visit.
Even Sunday left nothing to wish for. To her great joy, not only Mrs. Chauncey went with her in the morning to hear her brother (for his church was not the one the family attended), but the carriage was ordered in the afternoon also; and Mrs. Chauncey and her daughter and Miss Sophia went with her again. When they returned, Miss Sophia, who had taken a very great fancy to her, brought her into her own room and made her lie down with her upon the bed, though Ellen insisted she was not tired.