She saw it with dismay. So much
yarn as Miss Fortune might think it well she should spin, so
much time must be taken daily from her beloved reading and
writing, drawing, and studying; her very heart sunk with her.
She made no remonstrance, unless her disconsolate face might
be thought one; she stood half a day at the big spinning-
wheel, fretting secretly, while Miss Fortune went round with
an inward chuckle visible in her countenance, that in spite of
herself increased Ellen's vexation. And this was not the
annoyance of a day; she must expect it day after day through
the whole winter. It was a grievous trial. Ellen cried for a
great while when she got to her own room, and a long hard
struggle was necessary before she could resolve to do her
duty. "To be patient and quiet! — and spin nobody knows how
much yarn — and my poor history and philosophy and drawing and
French and reading!" — Ellen cried very heartily. But she knew
what she ought to do; she prayed long, humbly, earnestly, that
"her little rushlight might shine bright;" — and her aunt had
no cause to complain of her. Sometimes, if over-pressed, Ellen
would ask Miss Fortune to let her stop; saying, as Alice had
advised her, that she wished to have her do such and such
things; Miss Fortune never made any objection; and the hours
of spinning that wrought so many knots of yarn for her aunt,
wrought better things yet for the little spinner: patience and
gentleness grew with the practice of them; this wearisome work
was one of the many seemingly untoward things which in reality
bring out good.
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