The worth of a Finger-Ring.
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 down stairs, 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 up stairs 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 to 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 singular 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 towards
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 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 little 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 but 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
exceeding 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 daresay 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 of 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 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
know now, 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 every thing. 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 every thing 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, Maam, 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 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 penknives. 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 that
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 mean
time."
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, India-
rubber, 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 joyfullest 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 and 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."