Sweetheart, we shall be rich ere we depart,
If fairings come thus plentifully in.
--SHAKESPEARE.
Ellen had to wait some time for the desired fine day. The equinoctial
storms would have their way as usual, and Ellen thought they were longer
than ever this year. But after many stormy days had tried her patience,
there was at length a sudden change, both without and within doors. The
clouds had done their work for that time, and fled away before a strong
northerly wind, leaving the sky bright and fair. And Mrs. Montgomery's
deceitful disease took a turn, and for a little space raised the hopes
of her friends. All were rejoicing but two persons: Mrs. Montgomery was
not deceived, neither was the doctor. The shopping project was kept a
profound secret from him and from everybody except Ellen.
Ellen watched now for a favourable day. Every morning as soon as she
rose she went to the window to see what was the look of the weather; and
about a week after the change above noticed, she was greatly pleased one
morning, on opening her window as usual, to find the air and sky
promising all that could be desired. It was one of those beautiful days
in the end of September that sometimes herald October before it
arrives--cloudless, brilliant, and breathing balm. "This will do," said
Ellen to herself, in great satisfaction. "I think this will do; I hope
mamma will think so."
Hastily dressing herself, and a good deal excited already, she ran
downstairs; and after the morning salutations, examined her mother's
looks with as much anxiety as she had just done those of the weather.
All was satisfactory there also; and Ellen ate her breakfast with an
excellent appetite; but she said not a word of the intended expedition
till her father should be gone. She contented herself with strengthening
her hopes by making constant fresh inspections of the weather and her
mother's countenance alternately; and her eyes returning from the window
on one of these excursions and meeting her mother's face, saw a smile
there which said all she wanted. Breakfast went on more vigorously than
ever. But after breakfast it seemed to Ellen that her father never would
go away. He took the newspaper, an uncommon thing for him, and pored
over it most perseveringly, while Ellen was in a perfect fidget of
impatience. Her mother, seeing the state she was in, and taking pity on
her, sent her upstairs to do some little matters of business in her own
room. These Ellen despatched with all possible zeal and speed; and
coming down again found her father gone and her mother alone. She flew
to kiss her in the first place, and then made the inquiry, "Don't you
think to-day will do, mamma?"
"As fine as possible, daughter; we could not have a better. But I must
wait till the doctor has been here."
"Mamma," said Ellen after a pause, making a great effort of self-denial,
"I am afraid you oughtn't to go out to get these things for me. Pray
don't, mamma, if you think it will do you harm. I would rather go
without them; indeed I would."
"Never mind that, daughter," said Mrs. Montgomery, kissing her; "I am
bent upon it; it would be quite as much of a disappointment to me as to
you not to go. We have a lovely day for it, and we will take our time
and walk slowly, and we haven't far to go either. But I must let Dr.
Green make his visit first."
To fill up the time till he came Mrs. Montgomery employed Ellen in
reading to her as usual. And this morning's reading Ellen long after
remembered. Her mother directed her to several passages in different
parts of the Bible that speak of heaven and its enjoyments; and though,
when she began, her own little heart was full of excitement, in view of
the day's plans, and beating with hope and pleasure, the sublime beauty
of the words and thoughts, as she went on, awed her into quiet, and her
mother's manner at length turned her attention entirely from herself.
Mrs. Montgomery was lying on the sofa, and for the most part listened in
silence, with her eyes closed; but sometimes saying a word or two that
made Ellen feel how deep was the interest her mother had in the things
she read of, and how pure and strong the pleasure she was even now
taking in them; and sometimes there was a smile on her face that Ellen
scarce liked to see; it gave her an indistinct feeling that her mother
would not be long away from that heaven to which she seemed already to
belong. Ellen had a sad consciousness too that she had no part with her
mother in this matter. She could hardly go on. She came to that
beautiful passage in the seventh of Revelation--
"And one of the elders answered, saying unto me, What are these which
are arrayed in white robes? and whence came they? And I said unto him,
Sir, thou knowest. And he said unto me, These are they which came out of
great tribulation, and have washed their robes and made them white in
the blood of the Lamb. Therefore are they before the throne of God, and
serve Him day and night in His temple: and He that sitteth on the throne
shall dwell among them. They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any
more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat. For the Lamb
which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them
unto living fountains of waters: and God shall wipe away all tears from
their eyes."
With difficulty and a husky voice Ellen got through it. Lifting then her
eyes to her mother's face, she saw again the same singularly sweet
smile. Ellen felt that she could not read another word; to her great
relief the door opened, and Dr. Green came in. His appearance changed
the whole course of her thoughts. All that was grave or painful fled
quickly away; Ellen's head was immediately full again of what had filled
it before she began to read.
As soon as the doctor had retired and was fairly out of hearing, "Now,
mamma, shall we go?" said Ellen. "You needn't stir, mamma; I'll bring
all your things to you, and put them on; may I, mamma? then you won't be
a bit tired before you set out."
Her mother assented; and with a great deal of tenderness and a great
deal of eagerness, Ellen put on her stockings and shoes, arranged her
hair, and did all that she could toward changing her dress, and putting
on her bonnet and shawl; and greatly delighted she was when the business
was accomplished.
"Now, mamma, you look like yourself; I haven't seen you look so well
this great while. I'm so glad you're going out again," said Ellen,
putting her arms round her; "I do believe it will do you good. Now,
mamma, I'll go and get ready; I'll be very quick about it; you shan't
have to wait long for me."
In a few minutes the two set forth from the house. The day was as fine
as could be; there was no wind, there was no dust; the sun was not
oppressive; and Mrs. Montgomery did feel refreshed and strengthened
during the few steps they had to take to their first stopping-place.
It was a jeweller's store. Ellen had never been in one before in her
life, and her first feeling on entering was of dazzled wonderment at the
glittering splendours around; this was presently forgotten in curiosity
to know what her mother could possibly want there. She soon discovered
that she had come to sell and not to buy. Mrs. Montgomery drew a ring
from her finger, and after a little chaffering parted with it to the
owner of the store for eighty dollars, being about three-quarters of its
real value. The money was counted out, and she left the store.
"Mamma," said Ellen in a low voice, "wasn't that grandmamma's ring,
which I thought you loved so much?"
"Yes, I did love it, Ellen, but I love you better."
"Oh, mamma, I am very sorry!" said Ellen.
"You need not be sorry, daughter. Jewels in themselves are the merest
nothings to me; and as for the rest, it doesn't matter; I can remember
my mother without any help from a trinket."
There were tears, however, in Mrs. Montgomery's eyes, that showed the
sacrifice had cost her something; and there were tears in Ellen's that
told it was not thrown away upon her.
"I am sorry you should know of this," continued Mrs. Montgomery; "you
should not if I could have helped it. But set your heart quite at rest,
Ellen; I assure you this use of my ring gives me more pleasure on the
whole than any other I could have made of it."
A grateful squeeze of her hand and glance into her face was Ellen's
answer.
Mrs. Montgomery had applied to her husband for the funds necessary to
fit Ellen comfortably for the time they should be absent; and in answer
he had given her a sum barely sufficient for her mere clothing. Mrs.
Montgomery knew him better than to ask for a further supply, but she
resolved to have recourse to other means to do what she had determined
upon. Now that she was about to leave her little daughter, and it might
be for ever, she had set her heart upon providing her with certain
things which she thought important to her comfort and improvement, and
which Ellen would go very long without if _she_ did not give them to
her, and _now_. Ellen had had very few presents in her life, and those
always of the simplest and cheapest kind; her mother resolved that in
the midst of the bitterness of this time she would give her one pleasure
if she could; it might be the last.
They stopped next at a book-store. "Oh, what a delicious smell of new
books!" said Ellen, as they entered. "Mamma, if it wasn't for one thing,
I should say I never was so happy in my life."
Children's books, lying in tempting confusion near the door, immediately
fastened Ellen's eyes and attention. She opened one, and was already
deep in the interest of it, when the word "_Bibles_" struck her ear.
Mrs. Montgomery was desiring the shopman to show her various kinds and
sizes that she might choose from among them. Down went Ellen's book, and
she flew to the place where a dozen different Bibles were presently
displayed. Ellen's wits were ready to forsake her. Such beautiful Bibles
she had never seen; she pored in ecstasy over their varieties of type
and binding, and was very evidently in love with them all.
"Now, Ellen," said Mrs. Montgomery, "look and choose; take your time,
and see which you like best."
It was not likely that "Ellen's time" would be a short one. Her mother
seeing this, took a chair at a little distance to await patiently her
decision; and while Ellen's eyes were riveted on the Bibles, her own
very naturally were fixed upon her. In the excitement and eagerness of
the moment, Ellen had thrown off her light bonnet, and with flushed
cheek and sparkling eye, and a brow grave with unusual care, as though a
nation's fate were deciding, she was weighing the comparative advantages
of large, small, and middle sized--black, blue, purple, and red--gilt
and not gilt--clasp and no clasp. Everything but the Bibles before her
Ellen had forgotten utterly; she was deep in what was to her the most
important of business. She did not see the bystanders smile; she did not
know there were any. To her mother's eye it was a most fair sight. Mrs.
Montgomery gazed with rising emotions of pleasure and pain that
struggled for the mastery, but pain at last got the better and rose very
high. "How can I give thee up!" was the one thought of her heart. Unable
to command herself, she rose and went to a distant part of the counter,
where she seemed to be examining books; but tears, some of the bitterest
she had ever shed, were falling thick upon the dusty floor, and she felt
her heart like to break. Her little daughter at one end of the counter
had forgotten there ever was such a thing as sorrow in the world; and
she at the other was bowed beneath a weight of it that was nigh to crush
her. But in her extremity she betook herself to that refuge she had
never known to fail: it did not fail her now. She remembered the words
Ellen had been reading to her that very morning, and they came like the
breath of heaven upon the fever of her soul. "Not my will, but Thine be
done." She strove and prayed to say it, and not in vain; and after a
little while she was able to return to her seat. She felt that she had
been shaken by a tempest, but she was calmer now than before.
Ellen was just as she had left her, and apparently just as far from
coming to any conclusion. Mrs. Montgomery was resolved to let her take
her way. Presently Ellen came over from the counter with a large royal
octavo Bible, heavy enough to be a good lift for her. "Mamma," said she,
laying it on her mother's lap and opening it, "what do you think of
that? isn't that splendid?"
"A most beautiful page indeed; is this your choice, Ellen?"
"Well, mamma, I don't know; what do you think?"
"I think it is rather inconveniently large and heavy for everyday use.
It is quite a weight upon my lap. I shouldn't like to carry it in my
hands long. You would want a little table on purpose to hold it."
"Well, that wouldn't do at all," said Ellen, laughing; "I believe you
are right, mamma; I wonder I didn't think of it. I might have known that
myself."
She took it back, and there followed another careful examination of the
whole stock; and then Ellen came to her mother with a beautiful
miniature edition in two volumes, gilt and clasped, and very perfect in
all respects, but of exceedingly small print.
"I think I'll have this, mamma," said she. "Isn't it a beauty? I could
put it in my pocket, you know, and carry it anywhere with the greatest
ease."
"It would have one great objection to me," said Mrs. Montgomery,
"inasmuch as I cannot possibly see to read it."
"Cannot you, mamma? But I can read it perfectly."
"Well, my dear, take it; that is, if you will make up your mind to put
on spectacles before your time."
"Spectacles, mamma! I hope I shall never have to wear spectacles."
"What do you propose to do when your sight fails, if you shall live so
long?"
"Well, mamma--if it comes to that--but you don't advise me then to take
this little beauty?"
"Judge for yourself; I think you are old enough."
"I know what you think though, mamma, and I dare say you are right too;
I won't take it, though it's a pity. Well, I must look again."
Mrs. Montgomery came to her help, for it was plain Ellen had lost the
power of judging amidst so many tempting objects. But she presently
simplified the matter by putting aside all that were decidedly too
large, or too small, or too fine print. There remained three, of
moderate size and sufficiently large type, but different binding.
"Either of these, I think, will answer your purpose nicely," said Mrs.
Montgomery.
"Then, mamma, if you please, I will have the red one. I like that best,
because it will put me in mind of yours."
Mrs. Montgomery could find no fault with this reason. She paid for the
red Bible, and directed it to be sent home. "Shan't I carry it, mamma?"
said Ellen.
"No, you would find it in the way; we have several things to do yet."
"Have we, mamma? I thought we only came to get a Bible."
"That is enough for one day, I confess. I am a little afraid your head
will be turned; but I must run the risk of it. I dare not lose the
opportunity of this fine weather; I may not have such another. I wish to
have the comfort of thinking when I am away, that I have left you with
everything necessary to the keeping up of good habits--everything that
will make them pleasant and easy. I wish you to be always neat, and
tidy, and industrious; depending upon others as little as possible; and
careful to improve yourself by every means, and especially by writing to
me. I will leave you no excuse, Ellen, for failing in any of these
duties. I trust you will not disappoint me in a single particular."
Ellen's heart was too full to speak; she again looked up tearfully and
pressed her mother's hand.
"I do not expect to be disappointed, love," returned Mrs. Montgomery.
They now entered a large fancy store. "What are we to get here, mamma?"
said Ellen.
"A box to put your pens and paper in," said her mother, smiling.
"Oh, to be sure," said Ellen; "I had almost forgotten that." She quite
forgot it a minute after. It was the first time she had ever seen the
inside of such a store; and the articles displayed on every side
completely bewitched her. From one thing to another she went, admiring
and wondering; in her wildest dreams she had never imagined such
beautiful things. The store was fairyland.
Mrs. Montgomery meanwhile attended to business. Having chosen a neat
little japanned dressing-box, perfectly plain, but well supplied with
everything a child could want in that line, she called Ellen from the
delightful journey of discovery she was making round the store, and
asked her what she thought of it.
"I think it's a little beauty," said Ellen; "but I never saw such a
place for beautiful things."
"You think it will do then?" said her mother.
"For me, mamma! You don't mean to give it to me? Oh, mother, how good
you are! But I know what is the best way to thank you, and I'll do it.
What a perfect little beauty! Mamma, I'm too happy."
"I hope not," said her mother, "for you know I haven't got you the box
for your pens and paper yet."
"Well, mamma, I'll try and bear it," said Ellen, laughing. "But do get
me the plainest little thing in the world, for you're giving me too
much."
Mrs. Montgomery asked to look at writing-desks, and was shown to another
part of the store for the purpose. "Mamma," said Ellen, in a low tone,
as they went, "you're not going to get me a writing-desk?"
"Why, that is the best kind of box for holding writing materials," said
her mother, smiling; "don't you think so?"
"I don't know what to say!" exclaimed Ellen. "I can't thank you,
mamma--I haven't any words to do it. I think I shall go crazy."
She was truly overcome with the weight of happiness. Words failed her,
and tears came instead.
From among a great many desks of all descriptions, Mrs. Montgomery with
some difficulty succeeded in choosing one to her mind. It was of
mahogany, not very large, but thoroughly well made and finished, and
very convenient and perfect in its internal arrangements. Ellen was
speechless; occasional looks at her mother, and deep sighs, were all she
had now to offer. The desk was quite empty. "Ellen," said her mother,
"do you remember the furniture of Miss Allen's desk that you were so
pleased with a while ago?"
"Perfectly, mamma; I know all that was in it."
"Well, then, you must prompt me if I forget anything. Your desk will be
furnished with everything really useful. Merely showy matters we can
dispense with. Now let us see. Here is a great empty place that I think
wants some paper to fill it. Show me some of different sizes, if you
please."
The shopman obeyed, and Mrs. Montgomery stocked the desk well with
letter paper, large and small. Ellen looked on in great satisfaction.
"That will do nicely," she said. "That large paper will be beautiful
whenever I am writing to you, mamma, you know, and the other will do for
other times, when I haven't so much to say; though I am sure I don't
know who there is in the world I should ever send letters to except
you."
"If there is nobody now, perhaps there will be at some future time,"
replied her mother. "I hope I shall not always be your only
correspondent. Now what next?"
"Envelopes, mamma."
"To be sure; I had forgotten them. Envelopes of both sizes to match."
"Because, mamma, you know I might, and I certainly shall, want to write
upon the fourth page of my letter, and I couldn't do it unless I had
envelopes." A sufficient stock of envelopes was laid in.
"Mamma," said Ellen, "what do you think of a little note-paper?"
"Who are the notes to be written to, Ellen?" said Mrs. Montgomery,
smiling.
"You needn't smile, mamma; you know, as you said, if I don't now know,
perhaps I shall by-and-by. Miss Allen's desk had note-paper; that made
me think of it."
"So shall yours, daughter; while we are about it we will do the thing
well. And your note-paper will keep quite safely in this nice little
place provided for it, even if you should not want to use a sheet of it
in half-a-dozen years."
"How nice that is!" said Ellen admiringly.
"I suppose the note-paper must have envelopes too?" said Mrs.
Montgomery.
"To be sure, mamma; I suppose so," said Ellen, smiling; "Miss Allen's
had."
"Well, now we have got all the paper we want, I think," said Mrs.
Montgomery; "the next thing is ink--or an inkstand, rather."
Different kinds were presented for her choice.
"Oh, mamma, that one won't do," said Ellen anxiously; "you know the desk
will be knocking about in a trunk, and the ink would run out and spoil
everything. It should be one of those that shut tight. I don't see the
right kind here." The shopman brought one.
"There, mamma, do you see?" said Ellen; "it shuts with a spring, and
nothing can possibly come out; do you see, mamma? You can turn it
topsy-turvy."
"I see you are quite right, daughter; it seems I should get on very ill
without you to advise me. Fill the inkstand, if you please."
"Mamma, what shall I do when my ink is gone? that inkstand will hold but
a little, you know."
"Your aunt will supply you, of course, my dear, when you are out."
"I'd rather take some of my own by half," said Ellen.
"You could not carry a bottle of ink in your desk without great danger
to everything else in it. It would not do to venture."
"We have excellent ink-powder," said the shopman, "in small packages,
which can be very conveniently carried about. You see, ma'am, there is a
compartment in the desk for such things; and the ink is very easily made
at any time."
"Oh, that will do nicely," said Ellen, "that is just the thing."
"Now what is to go in this other square place opposite the inkstand?"
said Mrs. Montgomery.
"That is the place for the box of lights, mamma."
"What sort of lights?"
"For sealing letters, mamma, you know. They are not like your wax taper
at all; they are little wax matches, that burn just long enough to seal
one or two letters; Miss Allen showed me how she used them. Hers were in
a nice little box just like the inkstand on the outside; and there was a
place to light the matches, and a place to set them in while they are
burning. There, mamma, that's it," said Ellen, as the shopman brought
forth the article which she was describing, "that's it exactly; and that
will just fit. Now, mamma, for the wax."
"You want to seal your letter before you have written it," said Mrs.
Montgomery; "we have not got the pens yet."
"That's true, mamma; let us have the pens. And some quills too, mamma?"
"Do you know how to make a pen, Ellen?"
"No, mamma, not yet; but I want to learn very much. Miss Pichegru says
that every lady ought to know how to make her own pens."
"Miss Pichegru is very right; but I think you are rather too young to
learn. However, we will try. Now here are steel points enough to last
you a great while, and as many quills as it is needful you should cut up
for one year at least; we haven't a pen handle yet."
"Here, mamma," said Ellen, holding out a plain ivory one, "don't you
like this? I think that it is prettier than these that are all cut and
fussed, or those other gay ones either."
"I think so too, Ellen; the plainer the prettier. Now what comes next?"
"The knife, mamma, to make the pens," said Ellen, smiling.
"True, the knife. Let us see some of your best pen-knives. Now, Ellen,
choose. That one won't do, my dear; it should have two blades--a large
as well as a small one. You know you want to mend a pencil sometimes."
"So I do, mamma, to be sure, you're very right; here's a nice one. Now,
mamma, the wax."
"There is a box full; choose your own colours." Seeing it was likely to
be a work of time, Mrs. Montgomery walked away to another part of the
store. When she returned Ellen had made up an assortment of the oddest
colours she could find.
"I won't have any red, mamma, it is so common," she said.
"I think it is the prettiest of all," said Mrs. Montgomery.
"Do you, mamma? then I will have a stick of red on purpose to seal to
you with."
"And who do you intend shall have the benefit of the other colours?"
inquired her mother.
"I declare, mamma," said Ellen, laughing, "I never thought of that; I am
afraid they will have to go to you. You must not mind, mamma, if you get
green and blue and yellow seals once in a while."
"I dare say I shall submit myself to it with a good grace," said Mrs.
Montgomery. "But come, my dear, have we got all we want? This desk has
been very long in furnishing."
"You haven't given me a seal yet, mamma."
"Seals! There are a variety before you; see if you can find one that you
like. By the way, you cannot seal a letter, can you?"
"Not yet, mamma," said Ellen, smiling again; "that is another of the
things I have got to learn."
"Then I think you had better have some wafers in the meantime."
While Ellen was picking out her seal, which took not a little time, Mrs.
Montgomery laid in a good supply of wafers of all sorts; and then went
on further to furnish the desk with an ivory leaf-cutter, a
paper-folder, a pounce-box, a ruler, and a neat little silver pencil;
also some drawing-pencils, indiarubber, and sheets of drawing paper. She
took a sad pleasure in adding everything she could think of that might
be for Ellen's future use or advantage; but as with her own hands she
placed in the desk one thing after another, the thought crossed her mind
how Ellen would make drawings with those very pencils, on those very
sheets of paper, which her eyes would never see! She turned away with a
sigh, and receiving Ellen's seal from her hand, put that also in its
place. Ellen had chosen one with her own name.
"Will you send these things _at once_?" said Mrs. Montgomery; "I
particularly wish to have them at home as early in the day as possible."
The man promised. Mrs. Montgomery paid the bill, and she and Ellen left
the store.
They walked a little way in silence.
"I cannot thank you, mamma," said Ellen.
"It is not necessary, my dear child," said Mrs. Montgomery, returning
the pressure of her hand; "I know all that you would say."
There was as much sorrow as joy at that moment in the heart of the joy
fullest of the two.
"Where are we going now, mamma?" said Ellen again, after a while.
"I wished and intended to have gone to St. Clair & Fleury's, to get you
some merino and other things; but we have been detained so long already
that I think I had better go home. I feel somewhat tired."
"I am very sorry, dear mamma," said Ellen; "I am afraid I kept you too
long about that desk."
"You did not keep me, daughter, any longer than I chose to be kept. But
I think I will go home now, and take the chance of another fine day for
the merino."