"And your grandmother, Ellen?" said Mr. Lindsay, clasping his arms around her.
"Yes, Sir."
But he well understood that the "yes" was fainter.
"And your aunt? speak, Ellen."
"I don't love her as much as I wish I did," said Ellen; "I love her a little, I suppose. Oh, why do you ask me such a hard question, father?"
"That is something you have nothing to do with," said Mr. Lindsay, half-laughing. "Sit down here," he added, placing her on his knee, "and sing to me again."
Ellen was heartened by the tone of his voice, and pleased with the request. She immediately sang with great spirit a little Methodist hymn she had learned when a mere child. The wild air and simple words singularly suited each other:
"O Canaan, bright Canaan,
I'm bound for the land of Canaan,
O Canaan! It is my happy, happy home!
I am bound for the land of Canaan."
"Does that sound sad, Sir?"
"Why yes,I think it does, rather, Ellen. Does it make you feel merry?"