"Need I go to school to-day, Mamma?" whispered Ellen. "No; I spoke to your father about that; you shall not go any more; we will be together now while we can." Ellen wanted to ask how long that would be, but could not make up her mind to it. "Sit down, daughter, and take some breakfast." "Have you done, Mamma?" "No — I waited for you." "Thank you, dear Mamma" with another embrace — "how good you are! but I don't think I want any." They drew their chairs to the table, but it was plain neither had much heart to eat; although Mrs. Montgomery with her own hands laid on Ellen's plate half of the little bird that had been boiled for her own breakfast. The half was too much for each of them. "What made you so late this morning, daughter?" "I got up late, in the first place, Mamma; and then I was a long time at the window." "At the window? Were you examining into your neighbours' affairs, as usual?" said Mrs. Montgomery, surprised that it should have been so. "Oh, no, Mamma, I didn't look at them at all, except poor little Billy. I was looking at the sky." "And what did you see there that pleased you so much?" "I don't know, Mamma; it looked so lovely and peaceful — that pure blue spread over my head, and the little white clouds flying across it — I loved to look at it; it seemed to do me good." "Could you look at it, Ellen, without thinking of Him who made it?" "No, Mamma," said Ellen, ceasing her breakfast, and now speaking with difficulty; "I did think of Him; perhaps that was the reason." "And what did you think of Him, daughter?" "I hoped, Mamma — I felt — I thought — he would take care of me," said Ellen, bursting into tears, and throwing her arms around her mother. "He will, my dear daughter, — he will, if you will only put your trust in Him, Ellen." Ellen struggled hard to get back her composure, and after a few minutes succeeded. "Mamma, will you tell me what you mean exactly by my 'putting my trust' in Him?" "Don't you trust me, Ellen?" "Certainly, Mamma." "How do you trust me? — in what?" "Why, Mamma, — in the first place I trust every word you say — entirely — I know nothing could be truer; if you were to tell me black is white, Mamma, I should think my eyes had been mistaken. Then everything you tell or advise me to do, I know it is right, perfectly. And I always feel safe when you are near me, because I know you'll take care of me. And I am glad to think I belong to you, and you have the management of me entirely, and I needn't manage myself, because I know I can't; and if I could, I'd rather you would, Mamma." "My daughter, it is just so — it is _just_ so — that I wish you to trust in God. He is truer, wiser, stronger, kinder by far than I am, even if I could always be with you; and what will you do when I am away from you? And what would you do, my child, if I were to be parted from you forever?"