neither Miss Fortune nor the old lady would let her come near them. Besides all this there was a measure of care constantly upon Ellen's mind; she felt charged with the welfare of all about the house; and under the effort to meet the charge, joined to the unceasing bodily exertion, she grew thin and pale. She was tired with Nancy's talk; she longed to be reading and studying again; she longed, oh how she longed! for Alice's and John's company again; and it was no wonder if she sometimes cast very sad longing looks further back still. Now and then an old fit of weeping would come. But Ellen remembered John's words; and often in the midst of her work, stopping short with a sort of pang of sorrow and weariness, and the difficulty of doing right, she would press her hands together and say to herself, "I will try to be a good pilgrim!" Her morning hour of prayer was very precious now; and her Bible grew more and more dear. Little Ellen found its words a mighty refreshment; and often when reading it she loved to recall what Alice had said at this and the other place, and John, and Mr. Marshman, and before them her mother. The passages about heaven, which she well remembered reading to her one particular morning, became great favourites; they were joined with her mother in Ellen's thoughts; and she used to go over and over them till she nearly knew them by heart. "What _do_ you keep reading that for, the whole time?" said Nancy one day. "Because I like to," said Ellen. "Well, if you do, you're the first one ever I saw that did." "O Nancy!" said Ellen; "your grandma!" "Well, she does, I believe," said Nancy, "for she's always at it; but all the rest of the folks that ever I saw are happy to get it out of their hands, _I_ know. They think they must read a little, and so they do, and they are too glad if something happens to break 'em off. You needn't tell _me_; I've seen 'em." "I wish _you_ loved it, Nancy," said Ellen. "Well, what do you love it for? come! let's hear; maybe you'll convert me." "I love it for a great many reasons," said Ellen, who had some difficulty in speaking of what she felt Nancy could not understand. "Well, I ain't any wiser yet." "I like to read it because I want to go to heaven, and it tells me how." "But what's the use?" said Nancy; "you ain't going to die yet; you are too young; you have time enough." "O Nancy! little John Dolan, and Eleanor Parsons, and Mary Huff, all younger than you and I; how can you say so?" "Well," said Nancy, "at any rate, that ain't reading it because you love it; it's because you must, like other folks." "That's only one of my reasons," said Ellen, hesitating and speaking gravely; "I like to read about the Saviour, and what He has done for me, and what a friend He will be to me, and how He forgives me. I had rather have the Bible, Nancy, than all the other books in the world." "That ain't saying much," said Nancy; "but how come you to be so sure you are forgiven?"