The little face was no longer
upturned — it was buried in her hands, and bowed to her lap,
and tears streamed as she prayed that God would bless her dear
mother and take care of her. Not once nor twice — the fulness
of Ellen's heart could not be poured out in one asking.
Greatly comforted at last, at having as it were laid over the
care of her mother upon One who was able, she thought of
herself, and her late resolution to serve him. She was in the
same mind still. She could not call herself a Christian yet,
but she was resolved to be one; and she earnestly asked the
Saviour she sought, to make her and keep her his child. And
then Ellen felt happy.
Quiet, and weariness, and even drowsiness, succeeded. It was
well the night was still, for it had grown quite cool, and a
breeze would have gone through and through Ellen's nankeen
coat. As it was, she began to be chilly, when Mr. Van Brunt,
who, since he got into the cart, had made no remarks except to
his oxen, turned round a little and spoke to her again.
"It's only a little bit of way we've got to go now," said he;
"we're turning the corner."
The words seemed to shoot through Ellen's heart. She was wide
awake instantly, and quite warm; and leaning forward in her
little chair, she strove to pierce the darkness on either hand
of her, to see whereabouts the house stood, and how things
looked.
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