The reason why I didn't wish to go was because I
thought I should be missed. You don't know how much I miss
you," said she, with tears in her eyes.
"That is what I was afraid of! Your reasons make against you,
Ellie."
"I hope not; I don't think they ought."
"But, Ellie, I am very sure my father would rather miss you
once or twice than have you want what would be good for you."
"I know that! I am sure of that; but that don't alter my
feeling, you know. And besides, that isn't all."
"Who else will miss you?"
Ellen's quick look seemed to say that he knew too much
already, and that she did not wish him to know more. He did
not repeat the question, but Ellen felt that her secret was no
longer entirely her own.
"And what do you do, Ellie, when you feel lonely?" he went on
presently.
Ellen's eyes watered at the tone in which these words were
spoken; she answered — "Different things."
"The best remedy for it is prayer. In seeking the face of our
best Friend we forget the loss of others. That is what I try,
Ellie, when I feel alone; do you try it?" said he, softly.
Ellen looked up; she could not well speak at that moment.
"There is an antidote in that for every trouble. You know who
said, 'He that cometh to me shall never hunger, and he that
believeth on me shall never thirst.' "
"It troubles me," said he, after a pause, "to leave you so
much alone.
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