"I don't wish it," said, he in surprise; "I don't know what you mean; I am willing you should go, if you like it. Away with you! it is time."
Once more Ellen set out, but this time with a heart full much too full to think of anything she saw by the way. It was with a singular feeling of pleasure that she entered the church alone. It was a strange church to her never seen but once before; and as she softly passed up the broad aisle, she saw nothing in the building or the people around her that was not strange no familiar face, no familiar thing. But it was a church, and she was alone, quite alone in the midst of that crowd; and she went up to the empty pew and ensconced herself in the far corner of it, with a curious feeling of quiet and of being at home. She was no sooner seated, however, than, leaning forward as much as possible to screen herself from observation, bending her head upon her knees, she burst into an agony of tears. It was a great relief to be able to weep freely; at home she was afraid of being seen, or heard, or questioned; now she was alone and free, and she poured out her very heart in weeping, that she with difficulty kept from being loud weeping.
"Oh, how could I say that! how could I say that! Oh, what would John have thought of me if he had heard it? Am I beginning already to lose my truth? am I going backward already? Oh, what shall I do! what will become of me if I do not watch over myself; there is no one to help me or lead me right not a single one all to lead me wrong! what will become of me? But there is One who has promised to keep those who follow him he is sufficient, without any others. I have not kept near enough to him! that is it; I have not remembered nor loved him. 'If ye love me, keep my commandments' I have not! I have not! Oh, but I will! I will; and he will be with me, and help me, and bless me, and all will go right with me."
With bitter tears Ellen mingled as eager prayers for forgiveness and help to be faithful. She resolved that nothing, come what would, should tempt her to swerve one iota from the straight line of truth; she resolved to be more careful of her private hour; she thought she had scarcely had her full hour a day lately; she resolved to make the Bible her only and her constant rule of life in everything: and she prayed such prayers as a heart thoroughly in earnest can pray, for the seal to these resolutions. Not one word of the sermon did Ellen hear; but she never passed a more profitable hour in church in her life.
All her tears were not from the spring of these thoughts and feelings; some were the pouring out of gathered sadness of the week; some came from recollections, oh, how tender and strong! of lost and distant friends. Her mother, and Alice, and Mr. Humphreys, and Margery, and Mr. Van Brunt, and Mr. George Marshman; and she longed, with longing that seemed as if it would have burst her heart, to see her brother. She longed for the pleasant voice, the eye of thousand expressions, into which she always looked as if she had never seen it before, the calm look that told he was satisfied with her, the touch of his hand, which many a time had said a volume. Ellen thought she would give anything in the world to see him and hear him speak one word. As this could not be, she resolved with the greatest care to do what would please him; that when she did see him, he might find her all he wished.
She had wept herself out; she had been refreshed and strengthened herself by fleeing to the stronghold of the prisoners of hope; and when the last hymn was given out, she raised her head and took the book to find it. To her great surprise, she saw Mr. Lindsay sitting at the other end of the pew, with folded arms, like a man not thinking of what was going on around him. Ellen was startled, but obeying the instinct that told her what he would like, she immediately moved down the pew and stood beside him while the last hymn was singing; and if Ellen had joined in no other part of the service that afternoon, she at least did in that with all her heart. They walked home then without a word on either side. Mr. Lindsay did not quit her hand till he had drawn her into the library. There he threw off her bonnet and wrappers, and taking her in his arms, exclaimed
"My poor little darling! what was the matter with you this afternoon?"
There was so much kindness again in his tone, that, overjoyed, Ellen eagerly returned his caress, and assured him that there was nothing the matter with her now.
"Nothing the matter!" said he, tenderly pressing her face against his own, "nothing the matter! with these pale cheeks and wet eyes! nothing now, Ellen?"
"Only that I am so glad to hear you speak kindly to me again,
Sir."