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The Wide, Wide World. Warner Susan
Читать онлайн.Название The Wide, Wide World
Год выпуска 0
isbn 4057664613998
Автор произведения Warner Susan
Жанр Языкознание
Издательство Bookwire
Ellen's distress was not soon quieted, or, if quieted for a moment, it was only to break out afresh. And then she was glad to sit still and rest herself.
Presently she heard the voice of the chambermaid upstairs, at a distance at first, and coming nearer and nearer. "Breakfast ready, ladies! Ladies, breakfast ready!" and then came all the people in a rush pouring down the stairs over Ellen's head. She kept quite still and close, for she did not want to see anybody, and could not bear that anybody 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 quick and as quietly as she could. She found almost nobody left in the saloon and, breathing more freely, she possessed herself of her despised bonnet, which she had torn off her head in the first burst of her indignation, and passing gently out at the door, went up the stairs which led to the promenade deck she felt as if she could not get far enough from Mrs. Dunscombe.
The promenade-deck was very pleasant in the bright morning sun: and nobody was there except a few gentlemen. Ellen sat down on one of the settees that were ranged along the middle of it, and much pleased at having found herself such a nice place of retreat, she once more took up her interrupted amusement of watching the banks of the river.
It was a fair, mild day, near the end of October, and one of the loveliest of that lovely month. Poor Ellen, however, could not fairly enjoy it just now. There was enough darkness in her heart to put a veil over all nature's brightness. The thought did pass through her mind, when she first went up, how very fair everything was; but she soon forgot to think about it at all. They were now in a wide part of 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. She went over again, in imagination, her shocked waking up that very morning how cruel that was! her hurried dressing the miserable parting and those last words of her mother, that seemed to ring in her ears yet "That home where parting cannot be." "Oh!" thought Ellen, "how shall I ever get there? Who is there to teach me now? Oh! what shall I do without you? Oh, Mamma! how much I want you already!"
While poor Ellen was thinking these things over and over, her little face had a deep sadness of expression it was sorrowful to see. She was perfectly calm her violent excitement had all left her her lip quivered a very little, sometimes, but that was all; and one or two tears rolled slowly down the side of her face. Her eyes were fixed upon the dancing 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 her, or they didn't know how. At length a gentleman, who had been for some time walking up and down the deck, happened to look, as he passed, at her little pale face. He went to the end of his walk that time, but in coming back he stopped just in front of her, and, bending down his face towards hers, said,
"What is the matter with you, my little friend?"
Though his figure had passed before her a great many times Ellen had not seen him at all; for "her eyes were with her heart, and that was far away." Her cheek flushed with surprise as she looked up. But there was no mistaking the look of kindness in the eyes that met hers, nor the gentleness and grave truthfulness of the whole countenance. It won her confidence immediately. 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, and as soon as he could, drew her to a retired part of the deck, where they were comparatively free from other people's eyes and ears; then, taking her in his arms he endeavoured by many kind and soothing words to stay the torrent of her grief. This fit of weeping did Ellen more good than the former one; that only exhausted, this in some little measure relieved her.
"What is all this about?" said her friend, kindly. "Nay, never mind shedding any more tears about it, my child. Let me hear what it is, and perhaps we can find some help for it."
"Oh, no! you can't, Sir," said Ellen, sadly.
"Well, let us see," said he "perhaps I can. What is it that has troubled you so much?"
"I have lost my mother, Sir," said Ellen.
"Your mother! Lost her! how?"
"She is very ill, Sir, and obliged to go away over the sea to France, to get well; and papa could not take me with her," said poor Ellen, weeping again, "and I am obliged to go to be among strangers. Oh, what shall I do?"
"Have you left your mother in the city?"
"Oh yes, Sir! I left her this morning."
"What is your name?"
"Ellen Montgomery."
"Is your mother obliged to go to Europe for her health?"
"Oh yes, Sir; nothing else would have made her go, but the doctor said she would not live long if she didn't go, and that would cure her."
"Then you hope to see her come back by-and-by, don't you?"
"Oh yes, Sir; but it won't be this great, great, long while; it seems to me as if it was for ever."
"Ellen, do you know who it is that sends sickness and trouble upon us?"
"Yes, Sir, I know; but I don't feel that that makes it any easier."
"Do you know why he sends it? He is the God of love he does not trouble us willingly he has said so; why does he ever make us suffer? do you know?"
"No, Sir."
"Sometimes he sees that if he lets them alone, his children will love some dear thing on the earth better than himself, and he knows they will not be happy 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 it, that they may remember him, and give their whole hearts to him. He wants their whole hearts, that he may bless them. Are you one of his children, Ellen?"
"No, Sir," said Ellen, with swimming eyes, but cast down to the ground.
"How do you know that you are not?"
"Because I do not love the Saviour."
"Do you not love him, Ellen?"
"I am afraid not, Sir."
"Why are you afraid not? What makes you think so?"
"Mamma said I could not love him at all, if I did not love him best; and, oh! Sir," said Ellen, weeping, "I do love Mamma a great deal better."
"You love your mother better than you do the Saviour?"
"Oh yes, Sir," said Ellen; "how can I help it?"
"Then, if he had left you your mother, Ellen, you would never have cared or thought about him?"
Ellen was silent.
"Is it so? would you, do you think?"
"I don't know, Sir," said Ellen, weeping again "oh, Sir! how can I help it?"
"Then Ellen, can you not see the love of your heavenly Father in this trial? He saw that his little child was in danger of forgetting him; and he loved you, Ellen; and so he has taken your dear mother, and sent you away where you will have no one to look to but him; and now he says to you, 'My daughter, give me thy heart.' Will you do it, Ellen?"
Ellen