“And what strong impulse could have urged you to this course of self-denial, my sweet girl?  I know not yet whether I shall not scold you for this almost needless infliction of pain, and for the deception it involves towards me,” said Mrs. Hamilton, with reproachful tenderness.

“Forgive me, oh, forgive me that!” exclaimed Ellen, clasping the hand she held.  “I have often and often felt I was deceiving you; failing in that confidence I had promised you should never have again to demand; but I dared not tell you, for I knew you would have prohibited the continuance of my task.”

“I should indeed, my Ellen; and tell me why you have done this.  Was it indeed because you imagined nothing else could atone for the past?”

“Because I felt—­I knew, though I was restored to your favour, your confidence, my conscience was not at peace, because I had read, ’If the wicked restore the pledge, give again that which he had robbed, walk in the statutes of life, without committing iniquity, he shall surely live, he shall not die;’ and I felt, however I might endeavour to be virtuous and good, till I had given again that which I had robbed, I dared not implore the mercy of my God.”

It is impossible to do justice by mere description to the plaintive eloquence, to the mournfully-expressive voice with which these simple words were said, betraying at once those thoughts and feelings which had been so long concealed in Ellen’s meek and youthful heart, the hidden spring from which her every action had emanated; Mrs. Hamilton felt its power, the sentiment was too exalted, too holy for human praise.  She folded her niece to her bosom.

“May the Almighty searcher of hearts accept this sacrifice and bless you, my dear child.  Secretly, unostentatiously, it has been done.  Pure must have been the thoughts which were yours when thus employed, when such was their origin, and we may hope, indeed, they have been accepted.  Had no self-denial attended the payment of your debt, had you merely entreated your uncle to repay himself from the fortune you possess, I would not have accepted it; such a payment would neither have been acceptable to me, nor to Him whom, I firmly believe, my Ellen sought more to please.  But when every action the last few years has proved to me, the words you repeated have indeed been the foundation of this self-conquest, I cannot but humbly, trustingly, think it will be an accepted offering on high.  Nor will I refuse to comply with your request, my dearest Ellen; I will receive that which you have so perseveringly and so painfully earned; it shall be employed in purchasing prayers for us all, from those whom it may relieve.  Let not the recollection of the past again disturb you, my sweet child.  Solicitude and pain you indeed once caused me, but this moment has redeemed it all.  Continue thus undeviatingly to follow the blessed path you have chosen, and our Ellen is and ever will be deserving of all the love which those to whom she is so dear can lavish upon her.”