The Wide, Wide World

"One is that you keep up a regular and full correspondence with me."

"I am very glad that you will let me do that," said Ellen, "that is exactly what I should like, but – "

"What?"

"I am afraid they will not let me."

"I will arrange that."

"Very well," said Ellen joyously, "then it will do. Oh, it will make me so happy! And you will write to me?"

"Certainly!"

"And I will tell you everything about myself; and you will tell me how I ought to do in all sorts of things; that will be next best to being with you. And then you will keep me right."

"I won't promise you that, Ellie," said John, smiling, "you must learn to keep yourself right."

"I know you will, though, however you may smile. What next?"

"Read no novels."

"I never do, John. I knew you did not like it, and I have taken good care to keep out of the way of them. If I had told anybody why, though, they would have made me read a dozen."

"Why, Ellie!" said her brother, "you must need some care to keep a straight line where your course lies now."

"Indeed I do, John," said Ellen, her eyes filling with tears; "oh, now I have felt that sometimes! And then how I wanted you!"

Her hand was fondly taken in his, as many a time it had been taken of old, and for a long time they paced up and down; the conversation running sometimes in the strain that both loved and Ellen now never heard; sometimes on other matters; such a conversation as those she had lived upon in former days, and now drank in with a delight and eagerness inexpressible. Mr. Lindsay would have been in dismay to have seen her uplifted face, which, though tears were many a time there, was sparkling and glowing with life and joy in a manner he had never known it. She almost forgot what the morrow would bring, in the exquisite pleasure of the instant, and hung upon every word and look of her brother as if her life were there.

"And in a few weeks," said Ellen, at length, "you will be in our own dear sitting-room again, and riding on the Black Prince! and I shall be here! and it will be – "

"It will be empty without you, Ellie! but we have a friend that is sufficient; let us love Him and be patient."

"It is very hard to be patient," murmured Ellen. "But, dear John, there was something else you wanted me to do? what is it? you said 'two or three' things."

"I will leave that to another time."

"But why? I will do it, whatever it be – pray tell me."

"No," said he, smiling, "not now; you shall know by-and-by – the time is not yet. Have you heard of your old friend, Mr. Van Brunt?"

"No – what of him?"

"He has come out before the world as a Christian man."

"Has he?"

John took a letter from his pocket and opened it.

"You may see what my father says of him; and what he says of you too, Ellie; he has missed you much."

"Oh, I was afraid he would," said Ellen, "I was sure he did!"

She took the letter, but she could not see the words. John told her she might keep it to read at her leisure.

"And how are they all at Ventnor? and how is Mrs. Vawse? and Margery?"

"All well. Mrs. Vawse spends about half her time at my father's."

"I am very glad of that!"

"Mrs. Marshman wrote me to bring you back with me if I could, and said she had a home for you always at Ventnor."

"How kind she is," said Ellen; "how many friends I find everywhere. It seems to me, John, that almost everybody loves me."

"That is a singular circumstance! However, I am no exception to the rule, Ellie."

"Oh, I know that," said Ellen, laughing. "And Mr. George?"

"Mr. George is well."

"How much I love him!" said Ellen. "How much I would give to see him. I wish you could tell me about poor Captain and the Brownie, but I don't suppose you have heard of them. Oh, when I think of it all at home, how I want to be there! Oh, John, sometimes lately I have almost thought I should only see you again in heaven."

"My dear Ellie! I shall see you there, I trust; but if we live we shall spend our lives here together first. And while we are parted we will keep as near as possible by praying for and writing to each other. And what God orders let us quietly submit to."

Ellen had much ado to command herself at the tone of these words and John's manner, as he clasped her in his arms and kissed her brow and lips. She strove to keep back a show of feeling that would distress and might displease him. But the next moment her fluttering spirits were stilled by hearing the few soft words of a prayer that he breathed over her head. It was a prayer for her and for himself, and one of its petitions was that they might be kept to see each other again. Ellen wrote the words on her heart.

"Are you going?"

He showed his watch.

"Well, I shall see you to-morrow!"

"Shall you be here?"

"Certainly; where else should I be? What time must you set out?"

"I need not till afternoon, but – How early can I see you?"

"As early as you please. Oh, spend all the time with me you can, John!"

So it was arranged.

"And now, Ellie, you must go downstairs and present me to Mr. Lindsay."

"To my father!"

For a moment Ellen's face was a compound of expressions. She instantly acquiesced, however, and went down with her brother, her heart, it must be confessed, going very pit-a-pat indeed. She took him into the library, which was not this evening thrown open to company, and sent a servant for Mr. Lindsay. While waiting for his coming, Ellen felt as if she had not the fair use of her senses. Was that John Humphreys quietly walking up and down the library? – Mr. Lindsay's library? and was she about to introduce her brother to the person who had forbidden her to mention his name? There was something, however, in Mr. John's figure and air, in his utter coolness, that insensibly restated her spirits. Triumphant confidence in him overcame the fear of Mr. Lindsay; and when he appeared, Ellen with tolerable composure met him, her hand upon John's arm, and said, "Father, this is Mr. Humphreys" —my brother she dared not add.