"Oh yes, Sir; nothing else would have made her go, but the doctor said she would not live long if she didn't go, and that would cure her." "Then you hope to see her come back by-and-by, don't you?" "Oh yes, Sir; but it won't be this great, great, long while; it seems to me as if it was for ever." "Ellen, do you know who it is that sends sickness and trouble upon us?" "Yes, Sir, I know; but I don't feel that that makes it any easier." "Do you know _why_ he sends it? He is the God of love — he does not trouble us willingly — he has said so; why does he ever make us suffer? do you know?" "No, Sir." "Sometimes he sees that if he lets them alone, his children will love some dear thing on the earth better than himself, and he knows they will not be happy if they do so; and then, because he loves them, he takes it away — perhaps it is a dear mother, or a dear daughter — or else he hinders their enjoyment of it, that they may remember him, and give their whole hearts to him. He wants their whole hearts, that he may bless them. Are you one of his children, Ellen?" "No, Sir," said Ellen, with swimming eyes, but cast down to the ground. "How do you know that you are not?" "Because I do not love the Saviour." "Do you not love him, Ellen?" "I am afraid not, Sir." "Why are you afraid not? What makes you think so?" "Mamma said I could not love him at all, if I did not love him best; and, oh! Sir," said Ellen, weeping, "I do love Mamma a great deal better." "You love your mother better than you do the Saviour?" "Oh yes, Sir," said Ellen; "how can I help it?" "Then, if he had left you your mother, Ellen, you would never have cared or thought about him?" Ellen was silent. "Is it so? — would you, do you think?" "I don't know, Sir," said Ellen, weeping again — "oh, Sir! how can I help it?" "Then Ellen, can you not see the love of your heavenly Father in this trial? He saw that his little child was in danger of forgetting him; and he loved you, Ellen; and so he has taken your dear mother, and sent you away where you will have no one to look to but him; and now he says to you, 'My daughter, give _me_ thy heart.' — Will you do it, Ellen?" Ellen wept exceedingly while the gentleman was saying these words, clasping his hands still in both hers; but she made no answer. He waited till she had become calmer, and then went on in a low tone — "What is the reason that you do not love the Saviour, my child?" "Mamma says it is because my heart is so hard." "That is true; but you do not know how good and how lovely he is, or you could not help loving him. Do you often think of him, and think much of him, and ask him to show you himself, that you may love him?" "No, Sir," said Ellen; "not often." "You pray to him, don't you?" "Yes, Sir; but not so."