"Pray still, my dear," said Alice, pressing her closer in her arms, "pray still; if you are in earnest the answer will come. But there is something else you can do, and must do, Ellen, besides praying, or praying may be in vain." "What do you mean, Miss Alice?" "You acknowledge yourself in fault--have you made all the amends you can? Have you, as soon as you have seen yourself in the wrong, gone to your Aunt Fortune and acknowledged it, and humbly asked her pardon?" Ellen answered "no" in a low voice. "Then, my child, your duty is plain before you. The next thing after doing wrong is to make all the amends in your power; confess your fault, and ask forgiveness, both of God and man. Pride struggles against it--I see yours does--but, my child, 'God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble.'" Ellen burst into tears and cried heartily. "Mind your own wrong doings, my child, and you will not be half so disposed to quarrel with those of other people. But, Ellen dear, if you will not humble yourself to this you must not count upon an answer to your prayer. 'If thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother had aught against thee,'--what then?--'Leave there thy gift before the altar? go first and be reconciled to thy brother, and then come.'" "But it is so hard to forgive," sobbed Ellen. "Hard! yes, it is hard when our hearts are so. But there is little love to Christ and no just sense of His love to us in the heart that finds it hard. Pride and selfishness make it hard; the heart full of love to the dear Saviour _cannot_ lay up offences against itself." "I have said quite enough," said Alice after a pause; "you know what you want, my dear Ellen, and what you ought to do. I shall leave you for a little while to change my dress, for I have been walking and riding all the morning. Make a good use of the time while I am gone." Ellen did make good use of the time. When Alice returned she met her with another face than she had worn all that day, humbler and quieter; and flinging her arms around her, she said-- "I will ask Aunt Fortune's forgiveness; I feel I can do it now." "And how about _forgiving_, Ellen?" "I think God will help me to forgive her," said Ellen; "I have asked Him. At any rate I will ask her to forgive me. But oh, Miss Alice! what would have become of me without you?" "Don't lean upon me, dear Ellen; remember you have a better Friend than I always near you; trust in Him; if I have done you any good, don't forget it was He brought me to you yesterday afternoon." "There's just one thing that troubles me now," said Ellen, "mamma's letter. I am thinking of it all the time; I feel as if I should fly to get it!" "We'll see about that. Cannot you ask your aunt for it?" "I don't like to." "Take care, Ellen; there is some pride there yet." "Well, I will try," said Ellen; "but sometimes, I know, she would not give it to me if I were to ask her. But I'll try, if I can."