The Wide, Wide World. Warner Susan

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