At length she closed it, and keeping it still in her lap, sat
awhile looking thoughtfully into the fire; till, turning
towards her mother, she met her gaze, fixed mournfully, almost
tearfully, on herself. The box was instantly shoved aside, and
getting up and bursting into tears, Ellen went to her.
"Oh, dear mother," she said, "I wish they were all back in the
store, if I could only keep you!"
Mrs. Montgomery answered only by folding her to her heart.
"Is there no help for it, Mamma?"
"There is none. We know that all things shall work together
for good to them that love God."
"Then it will be all good for you, Mamma — but what will it be
for me?" And Ellen sobbed bitterly.
"It will be all well, my precious child, I doubt not. I do not
doubt it, Ellen. Do _you_ not doubt it either, love; but from
the hand that wounds, seek the healing. He wounds that he _may_
heal. He does not afflict willingly. Perhaps he sees, Ellen,
that you never would seek him while you had me to cling to."
Ellen clung to her at that moment — yet not more than her
mother clung to her.
"How happy we were, Mamma, only a year ago — even a month."
"We have no continuing city here," answered her mother, with a
sigh. "But there is a home, Ellen, where changes do not come;
and they that are once gathered there are parted no more for
ever; and all tears are wiped from their eyes.
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