Ellen
thought she would give anything in the world to see him and
hear him speak one word. As this could not be, she resolved
with the greatest care to do what would please him; that when
she did see him, he might find her all he wished.
She had wept herself out; she had been refreshed and
strengthened herself by fleeing to the stronghold of the
prisoners of hope; and when the last hymn was given out, she
raised her head and took the book to find it. To her great
surprise, she saw Mr. Lindsay sitting at the other end of the
pew, with folded arms, like a man not thinking of what was
going on around him. Ellen was startled, but obeying the
instinct that told her what he would like, she immediately
moved down the pew and stood beside him while the last hymn
was singing; and if Ellen had joined in no other part of the
service that afternoon, she at least did in that with all her
heart. They walked home then without a word on either side.
Mr. Lindsay did not quit her hand till he had drawn her into
the library. There he threw off her bonnet and wrappers, and
taking her in his arms, exclaimed —
"My poor little darling! what was the matter with you this
afternoon?"
There was so much kindness again in his tone, that, overjoyed,
Ellen eagerly returned his caress, and assured him that there
was nothing the matter with her now.
"Nothing the matter!" said he, tenderly pressing her face
against his own, "nothing the matter! with these pale cheeks
and wet eyes! nothing now, Ellen?"
"Only that I am so glad to hear you speak kindly to me again,
Sir.
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