The Wide, Wide World

oul a day I h

cbe

hardly contain themselves. She did not find out that Miss Margaret's fingers were busy with her paper of sweets, which only a good string and a sound knot kept her from rifling. Yet she felt very well that nobody there cared in the least for her sorrow. It mattered nothing; she

r would you prefer to remain in the c

pped instantly, and wiping away quick the traces of them as well as she could, she got out of the carriage without a word, ai

, and then come back to me; I want to speak to yo

boat, not far from the gangway, to watch the busy scene that at another time would have had a great deal of interest and amusement for her. And interest it had now; but it was with a very, very grave little face that she looked on the bustling crowd.

ime to jump off the boat again when the plank was withdrawn. The men on shore cast off the gre

ildings at which she was gazing, but which would be so soon beyond even gazing distance, was the only spot she cared for in the world; her heart was there. She could not see the place, to be sure, nor tell exactly whereabouts it lay in all that wide-spread city; but it was there somewhere, and every minute was making it farth

tell you she wants you to

but as the next best thing, she mounted upon the bench which ran all round the saloon, and kneeling on the cushion by one of the windows, placed herself with the edge of her bonnet just touching the glass, so that nobody could see a bit of h

and she was beginning to think she had perhaps been mistaken, when she plainly heard Margaret Dunscombe say, in a loud whisper, "Mamma, I wish you could contrive some way to keep her in the cabin-can't you? she loo

he could be completely hidden. It was in the far-back end of the boat, just under the stairs by which she had come down. Nobody was sitting on the three or four large mahogany steps that ran round that end of the cabin and sloped up to the little cabin window; and creeping beneath the stairs, and seating herself on the lowest of these steps, the poor child found that she was quite screened and out of sight of every human creature. It was time indeed; her heart had been almost bursting with passion and pain, and now the pent-up tempest broke forth with a fury that racked her little frame from head to foot; and the more because she strove to sti

ed for a moment, it was only to break out afresh. A

ody should see her. Nobody did see her; they all went off into the next cabin, where breakfast was set. Ellen began to grow tired of her hiding-place, and to feel restless in her confinement; she thought this would be a good time to get away; so she crept from her station under the stairs, and mounted them as quickly and as quietly as she cou

n sat down on one of the settees that were ranged along the middle of it, and much pleased at having found hersel

the river; and the shore towards which she was looking was low and distant, and offered nothing to interest her. She ceased to look at it, and presently lost all sense of everything around and before her, for her thoughts went home. She remembered that sweet moment last night when she lay in her mother's arms, after she had stopped singing: could it be only last night? it seemed a long, long time ago.

ng water, but it was very plain her thoughts were not, nor on anything else before her; and there was a forlorn look of hopeless sorrow on her lip and cheek and brow, enough to move anybody whose heart was not very hard. She was noticed, and with a feeling of compassion, by several people; but they all thought it was none of their business to speak to

mediately. All the floodgates of Ellen's heart were at once opened. She could not speak, but rising and clasping the hand that was held out to her in both her own, she bent down her head upon it, and burst into one of those uncontrollable agonies of weeping, such as the news of her mother's intended departure had occasioned that first sorrowful evening. He gently,

er mind shedding any more tears about it, my child. Let me

n't, sir," sai

"perhaps I can. What is it th

my mother, si

her! Lost

et well; and papa could not take me with her," said poor Ellen, weeping a

t your mother

I left her t

is you

Montg

liged to go to Eur

go, but the doctor said she would not live lo

ee her come back by

s great, great, long while; it se

it is that sends sickn

I don't feel that tha

ve,-He does not trouble us willingly,-He has said

, s

if they do so; and then, because He loves them, He takes it away,-perhaps it is a dear mother, or a dear daughter,-or else He hinders their enjoyment of i

with swimming eyes, but

know that

o not love t

ot love H

fraid n

aid not? what ma

d not love Him best; and oh, sir," said Ellen,

her better than yo

said Ellen; "ho

other, Ellen, you would never h

was

ould you, do

Ellen, weeping again; "o

nger of forgetting Him, and He loved you, Ellen; and so He has taken your dear mother, and sent you away where you w

clasping his hands still in both hers; but she made no answer. He

hat you do not love t

is because my h

you could not help loving Him. Do you often think of Him, and think

said Ellen,

to Him,

ir; but

e has promised to do this for those that seek Him. Do you remember what the blind man said when Jesus asked him what He should do for him?-he answered, 'Lord, that I may receive my si

s tears as she lifted her face to that of he

me things about Christ that ought to m

sir! if y

it is that makes you lo

l you, sir;-ever

t thing is that she

r," said El

that she loves you? h

it seemed to her that she must bring the whol

s always been watchfully careful to provide everything that could be useful o

ndeed

e or expense or pain where your good was concerned;-she

k and strong answer to t

l the times you have seen her tired, no fatigue ever wore out her patience, nor any naughtiness of yours ever lessened her love; she could not be weary of

yes,

ny and many endeavours to teach you and lead you in the right way-all showi

earfully; and then added, "

s been in many things like this to me, and I judged yours

sir," said El

iven this dear mother the love and grat

and Ellen's face said

ll these very things I have been mentioning Jesus Christ has shown that He deserves it far more. Do you think, if you had never behaved like

Ellen, "I do not

y fit return to God fo

aid Ellen, i

whole life. You love your mother because she is so careful to provide for all your wants; but who gave her the materials to work with? She has only been, as it were, the hand by which He supplied you. And who gave you such a mother?-ther

ent, but look

when your good was concerned. Did Christ mind His

know; mamma o

mself, and suffered that terrible punishment-all to save you and such as you. And now He asks His children to leave off sinning and

y; she hung down her he

beyed Him; and yet He loves you, and is ready to be your friend. Is He not even to-day taking away your dear mother for the very purpose that He

, for he saw that the litt

er even than your mother does? And were ther

e unto Me, and forbid them not; for

the good shepherd giveth

lasting love; therefore with lov

then added gently, "Will

, and her own sank instantly. She covered her face with her hands, a

to be His c

sir-if

upon you now, Ellen, with more kindness and love than any earthly father or mother could, waiting for you to give that little heart of yours to H

and bitterness of her tears was go

what you want, would you doubt her love to do

h

d throb of your heart. Think you are in His presence and at His feet,-even now,-and say to Him in your heart, 'Lord, look upon me-I am not fit to come to Thee, but Thou hast bid me

ead sank lower and lower till he ceased speaking. He added no more for some tim

ou join in hear

uldn't help it, a

ut the

s,

ayer with your whole heart, the Lord will enabl

s,

ur constant prayer till yo

s,

he saw that she

n will rise to-morrow morning. 'Then shall we know, if we follow on to know the Lord.' But then yo

him without ma

in earnest, how

g he possibly can t

ing; "and has God bidden us to do no

as told us to do a

t you do not care about displeasing Him in those 'great many thing

no,

ou can do nothing well without help, but you are sure the help will come; and from this good day you will seek to know and to do the will of God, trustin

leave you for a little while-I have a few moments' business downstairs to attend to; and I want you to l

he book, sat down in the chair he had quitted. Tears ran fast again, and many thoughts p

e Saviour

ocks,-has kn

long,-is wa

o other fri

attitude

rt and outstr

s kindness!

ss kindness

for the hu

tained so k

for the ho

door, denied

art, Lord,

foe, and

o Thee I a

ul, and all

say, but could not; the two precedi

her friend came back again. The book hung in E

taking her hand, "what's you

mind on that matter w

in a low voice, casti

e you decide

to do as you

our Saviour, and to please

eyes as she spoke. Again the look she saw m

is hand over her head; "but do not cry any more-you have shed too many

like to go over the boat and see the different parts of it. Ellen's joyful agreement with th