"I am afraid she will not be so likely to love me." "You mustn't think so, my child. Her loving or not loving you will depend solely and entirely upon yourself, Ellen. Don't forget that. If you are a good child, and make it your daily care to do your duty, she cannot help liking you, be she what she may; and on the other hand, if she have all the will in the world to love you, she cannot do it unless you will let her. It all depends on your behaviour." "Oh, mamma, I can't help wishing dear aunt Bessy was alive, and I was going to her." Many a time the same wish had passed through Mrs. Montgomery's mind. But she kept down her rising heart, and went on calmly-- "You must not expect, my child, to find anybody as indulgent as I am, or as ready to overlook and excuse your faults. It would be unreasonable to look for it, and you must not think hardly of your aunt when you find she is not your mother; but then it will be your own fault if she does not love you, in time, truly and tenderly. See that you render her all the respect and obedience you could render me. That is your bounden duty. She will stand in my place while she has the care of you--remember that, Ellen. And remember, too, that she will deserve more gratitude at your hands for showing you kindness than I do, because she cannot have the same feeling of love to make trouble easy." "Oh no, mamma," said Ellen, "I don't think so. It's that very feeling of love that I am grateful for. I don't care a fig for anything people do for me without that." "But you can make her love you, Ellen, if you try." "Well, I'll try, mamma." "And don't be discouraged. Perhaps you may be disappointed in first appearances, but never mind that. Have patience, and let your motto be--if there's any occasion--Overcome evil with good. Will you put that among the things you mean to do while I am gone?" said Mrs. Montgomery with a smile. "I'll try, dear mamma." "You will succeed if you try, dear, never fear, if you apply yourself in your trying to the only unfailing source of wisdom and strength, to Him without whom you can do nothing." There was silence for a little. "What sort of a place is it where my aunt lives?" asked Ellen. "Your father says it is a very pleasant place. He says the country is beautiful and very healthy, and full of charming walks and rides. You have never lived in the country. I think you will enjoy it very much." "Then it is not in a town?" said Ellen. "No; it is not a great way from the town of Thirlwall, but your aunt lives in the open country. Your father says she is a capital housekeeper, and that you will learn more, and be in all respects a great deal happier and better off than you would be in a boarding-school here or anywhere." Ellen's heart secretly questioned the truth of this last assertion very much. "Is there any school near?" she asked. "Your father says there was an excellent one in Thirlwall when he was there."