Ellen smiled through her tears, as she tried to obey, but her lip so quivered as she answered, that Mrs. Hamilton laughingly added, “That would never do in a court of justice, my silly little girl, no one would pronounce you innocent if thus tearfully affirmed; but as you generally compel me to regret severity, when I do venture to use it, I must be content to let you follow your own inclinations this year at least.  Next season, I give you no such licences, nolens volens, as Percy would say, I must take you out with me, you shall not hide yourself in solitude; but I do not fancy your resolution will hold good, even the remainder of this season,” she added, smilingly.

“Do not, pray do not try to turn me from it, my dear, kind aunt,” said Ellen, earnestly; “I do not deserve this indulgence from you, for I know how much you dislike concealment, but indeed, indeed, you shall never regret your kindness.  I do not, I will not abuse it, it is only because, because—­” She hesitated.

“Do not excite my curiosity too painfully, Ellen, in return for my indulgence,” said Mrs. Hamilton, sportively.

“No, dear aunt, I only wish to finish a task I have set myself, and my various avocations during the day prevent my having any time, unless I take it from such amusements,” said Ellen, blushing as she spoke; “indeed, that is my real and only reason.”

Mrs. Hamilton fixed an anxious glance upon her, but though she really felt satisfied at this avowal, the actual truth never entered her mind.

“You have quite satisfied me, my dear girl!  I will not ask more, and you may stay at home as often as you please.  Your uncle and I have both been very unjust and very severe upon our little Ellen, but you have quite disarmed us; so you shall neither feel nor fancy my coldness any more.  There is Emmeline calling as loudly for me as if I were after my time.  Good night, love.  God bless you! do not sit up too late, and be as happy as you can.”

“I am quite happy now,” exclaimed Ellen, returning, with delighted eagerness, Mrs. Hamilton’s fond embrace, and she was happy.  For a moment she felt lonely, as the door closed on her aunt’s retreating form, but as she roused herself to seek her work, that feeling fled.  When the nature of her work was sufficiently simple to require but little thought, Ellen was accustomed to improve herself by committing to memory many parts of the Bible suited for prayer, confession, or praise, so that her thoughts might riot wander during those solitary hours in the paths of folly or of sin, but once centred on serious things, her mind might thence become strengthened and her judgment ripened.

These lonely hours did much towards the formation of the orphan’s character.  Accustomed thus to commune with her Creator, to gather strength in the solitude of her chamber, she was enabled, when her trial came, to meet it with a spirit most acceptable to Him who had ordained it.