CHAPTER IX.

AUNT HARDING’S RETURN.

And now two more years had passed away, and the time when their aunt Harding’s return was looked for had come.  They had talked of it all through the winter; and when spring was over, and summer begun, the happy tidings came that the ship had arrived in safety, and their uncle and aunt Harding were on their way to visit them once more.  I will leave you to guess the joy that was felt by all; and you must picture to yourself the pleasure of their meeting soon afterward:  how thankful all were that they were spared to behold each other again; with uncle Harding’s surprise at seeing two great girls instead of little Louisa and Emma; and aunt Harding’s smiles, and her hopes that there would be found an equal improvement in matters of more importance.

The morning after she came, when Mrs. Harding began to unpack her boxes, Louisa and Emma caught sight of many pretty and curious things which she told them were intended as presents for themselves.  “But before we proceed any further,” said she, as the girls were beginning to express their thanks and pleasure, “I wish to inquire about the parting keepsake which I gave to you; and I should be glad to see how each book has been treated, that I may know the real value which you set upon the gift.”

Louisa and Emma both ran to fulfill their aunt’s desire.  To speak the truth, Louisa was now in hopes of having all the praise.  She quickly brought in her handsome Bible, still wrapped in the soft white paper, and in all the gloss of newness:  not a mark upon the rich purple binding, not a speck upon the bright gilt leaves.  Emma, too, brought hers, but with a more timid look; the neat brown silk cover was faded and worn—­she had thought of making a new one only the day before—­and the brightness was gone from the leaves, and the binding seemed rather loose, for the book opened easily, and there were some pages, less white than others, which looked as if they had been often read.  To Louisa’s surprise, Mrs. Harding laid down her book without saying a word, while, as soon as she took Emma’s Bible into her hand, she smiled with pleasure, although tears came into her eyes. “This book has been valued as it ought to be,” said she; “it has been used with care, but often used, so that I trust it has been found a guide and a help to heaven.  But yours, Louisa”—­and she pointed to the beautiful Bible which lay upon the table—­“yours has been laid aside, like the talent which was buried in the earth.  It has been of no benefit to your soul, for you seem hardly ever to have looked to it for instruction; as if its real worth consisted in outside ornament, you have been careful to keep that from injury, but have never sought or cared for the treasure that is within.  But dry your tears, my dear Louisa,” added aunt Harding kindly.  “I am not angry, for I know that your mistaken care was in some measure caused by your love for me.