d for her in his
vicarage on Lord St. Eval's estate. That her residence was so near them
was a great source of pleasure to both her parents, and the feeling that
her home was in the centre of all she loved, not only so near the
beloved guardians of her infancy but Caroline and St. Eval, would have
added to her cup of joy, had it not been already full to overflowing;
the pang of parting was thus soothed to both mother and child. Even more
than Caroline, Mrs. Hamilton felt she should miss the gentle girl, who
scarcely from her infancy had given her one moment's pain; but in the
happiness of her child she too was blessed, and thankfully she raised
her voice to Him whose blessing, in the rearing of her children, she had
so constantly and fervently implored, and the mother's fond and yearning
heart was comforted.
Though Ellen had smiled, and seemed to every eye but that of her
watchful aunt the same as usual the whole of that day, yet Mrs. Hamilton
could not resist the impulse that bade her seek her when all had retired
to their separate apartments. Ellen had been gone some time, but she was
sitting in a posture of deep thought, in which she had sunk on first
entering her room. She did not observe her aunt, and Mrs. Hamilton
traced many tears slowly, almost one by one, fall upon her
tightly-clasped hands, ere she found voice to speak.
"Ellen, my sweet child!"
Ellen sprung up, she threw herself into those extended arms, and hid her
tearful eyes on her aunt's bosom.
"I have but you now, my own Ellen, to cheer my old age and enliven our
deserted hearth. You must not leave me yet, dearest. I cannot part with
you."
"Oh, no, no; I will never, never leave you. Your home shall be my home,
my more than mother; and where you go, Ellen will follow," she murmured,
speaking unconsciously in the spirit of one of the sweetest characters
the Sacred Book presents. "Do not ask me to leave you; indeed, indeed,
no home will be to me like yours."
"Speak not, then, so despondingly, my Ellen," replied Mrs. Hamilton,
fondly kissing her. "Never shall you leave me without your own full and
free consent. Do you remember, love, when I first promised that?" she
continued, playfully; for she sought not to draw from Ellen the secret
of her love, she only wished to soothe, to cheer, to tell her, however
unrequited might be her affections, still she was not desolate, and when
she left her, fully had she succeeded. Ellen was comforted, though sh
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