CHAPTER V.

LETTERS FROM INDIA.

Some months passed before there came a letter from Mrs. Harding; for India, as you know, is many thousands of miles from here, and it takes a long time for a ship to sail over the wide sea which lies between.  But great was the joy of the children and their mother when at last the good tidings came that, through the mercy of God, their friends had reached that distant country, safe and well.  Louisa danced and clapped her hands; and Emma felt very happy, sitting beside her mother, and looking up in her face, while she read the letter through tears of pleasure.

Mrs. Harding had written a few lines to the children, which their mother read aloud to them, and then allowed them to look at for themselves.  The words were these:  “I often think of you, dear Louisa and Emma, and pray for divine blessings upon you both; and I hope to hear that you are giving yourselves to the Saviour, who died upon the cross for you.  You know the love of Jesus for the young; his kindness to them when he was upon earth; and the tender way in which he still invites them to come to him.  Go, then, to Christ without delay:  ask him to be your friend, and you will be happy for evermore.”

A few weeks after this letter had been received, Mrs. Western’s birthday arrived, when it was usual for her children to have a holiday and a little treat.  On the morning of this day, as Emma was running up stairs, her mamma called to her from her dressing-room, and desired her to come in, and to shut the door.  Emma did as she was bid; and then Mrs. Western, with a smile on her face, told her to look round, and try if she could discover anything in the room that she had not seen before.

Almost before her mother had done speaking, the little girl fixed her eyes upon a handsome work-box, standing upon the table with the lid open, and showing a lining of pale blue silk, edged with silver; while within were scissors and thimble, an abundance of needles and cotton, everything, in short, that Emma had long been wishing for in vain.

“It is yours, my dear,” said her mamma; “it is a present from your aunt Harding, who, in her letter, requested me to choose for you on my birthday something that you would like, if your conduct should have been such as to deserve a token of our approval.  I am happy to see that you strive to amend your faults, and I trust that you will still go on trying to improve.”

“O, mamma, how beautiful! and how kind in aunt Harding!  Indeed I will try to deserve it.”  And the little girl went close to the box, and looked at its contents, but without venturing to touch them; then gently closing the lid, she stood gazing upon it with silent delight.

“But, mamma,” said Emma, looking up with a sudden thought, and casting her eyes round the room as if in search of something which was not to be seen, “where is Louisa’s present?  She would like a writing-desk, I know; for the old work-box which she has had so long is not yet worn out, because she is so very careful.”