Sunday evening was another lonely time; Ellen spent it as best
she could. Sometimes with her Bible and prayer, and then she
ceased to be lonely; sometimes with so many pleasant thoughts
that had sprung up out of the employments of the morning, that
she could not be sorrowful; sometimes she could not help being
both. In any case, she was very apt, when the darkness fell,
to take to singing hymns; and it grew to be a habit with Mr.
Humphreys, when he heard her, to come out of his study and lie
down upon the sofa and listen, suffering no light in the room
but that of the fire. Ellen never was better pleased than when
her Sunday evenings were spent so. She sung with wonderful
pleasure when she sang for him; and she made it her business
to fill her memory with all the beautiful hymns she ever knew
or could find, or that he liked particularly.
With the first opening of her eyes on Monday morning came the
thought, "John will be at home to-day!" That was enough to
carry Ellen pleasantly through whatever the day might bring.
She generally kept her mending of stockings for Monday
morning, because with that thought in her head she did not
mind anything. She had no visits from Margery on Monday; but
Ellen sang over her work, sprang about with happy energy, and
studied her hardest; for John, in what he expected her to do,
made no calculations for work of which he knew nothing.
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