Mrs. Montgomery answered only by folding her to her heart. "Is there no help for it, Mamma?" "There is none. We know that all things shall work together for good to them that love God." "Then it will be all good for you, Mamma — but what will it be for me?" And Ellen sobbed bitterly. "It will be all well, my precious child, I doubt not. I do not doubt it, Ellen. Do _you_ not doubt it either, love; but from the hand that wounds, seek the healing. He wounds that he _may_ heal. He does not afflict willingly. Perhaps he sees, Ellen, that you never would seek him while you had me to cling to." Ellen clung to her at that moment — yet not more than her mother clung to her. "How happy we were, Mamma, only a year ago — even a month." "We have no continuing city here," answered her mother, with a sigh. "But there is a home, Ellen, where changes do not come; and they that are once gathered there are parted no more for ever; and all tears are wiped from their eyes. I believe I am going fast to that home; and now my greatest concern is, that my little Ellen — my precious baby — may follow me, and come there too." No more was said, nor could be said, till the sound of the doctor's steps upon the stair obliged each of them to assume an appearance of composure as speedily as possible. But they could not succeed perfectly enough to blind him. He did not seem very well satisfied, and told Ellen he believed he should have to get another nurse — he was afraid she didn't obey orders. While the doctor was there, Ellen's Bible was brought in; and no sooner was he gone than it underwent as thorough an examination as the boxes had received. Ellen went over every part of it with the same great care and satisfaction — but mixed with a different feeling. The words that caught her eye as she turned over the leaves seemed to echo what her mother had been saying to her. It began to grow dear already. After a little she rose and brought it to the sofa. "Are you satisfied with it, Ellen?" "Oh, yes, Mamma; it is perfectly beautiful, outside and inside. Now, Mamma, will you please write my name in this precious book — my name, and anything else you please, mother? I'll bring you my new pen to write it with, and I've got ink here — shall I?" She brought it; and Mrs. Montgomery wrote Ellen's name and the date of the gift. The pen played a moment in her fingers, and then she wrote below the date — "I love them that love me; and they that seek me early shall find me." This was for Ellen; but the next words were not for her; what made her write them? "I will be a God to thee, and to thy seed after thee." They were written almost unconsciously; and as, if bowed by an unseen force, Mrs. Montgomery's head sank upon the open page, and her whole soul went up with her petition: —