The Wide, Wide World

"Yes, is that what makes you look so astonished?"

"But then you are English, too?"

"Well, what of that? You won't love me the less, will you?"

"Oh no," said Ellen; "my own mother came from Scotland, Aunt Fortune says."

"I am English born, Ellen, but you may count me half American if you like, for I have spent rather more than half my life here. Come this way, Ellen, and I'll show you my garden. It is some distance off, but as near as a spot could be found fit for it."

They quitted the house by a little steep path leading down the mountain, which in two or three minutes brought them to a clear bit of ground. It was not large, but lying very prettily among the trees, with an open view to the east and south-east. On the extreme edge and at the lower end of it was fixed a rude bench, well sheltered by the towering forest trees. Here Alice and Ellen sat down.

It was near sunset, the air cool and sweet, the evening light upon field and sky.

"How fair it is!" said Alice musingly. "How fair and lovely! Look at those long shadows of the mountains, Ellen, and how bright the light is on the far hills. It won't be so long. A little while more, and our Indian summer will be over; and then the clouds, the frost, and the wind, and the snow. Well, let them come."

"I wish they wouldn't, I am sure," said Ellen. "I am sorry enough they are coming."

"Why? All seasons have their pleasures. I am not sorry at all. I like the cold very much."

"I guess you wouldn't, Miss Alice, if you had to wash every morning where I do."

"Why, where is that?"

"Down at the spout."

"At the spout! What is that, pray?"

"The spout of water, ma'am, just down a little way from the kitchen door. The water comes in a little long, very long trough from a spring at the back of the pig-field, and at the end of the trough, where it pours out, is the spout."

"Have you no conveniences for washing in your room?"

"Not a sign of such a thing, ma'am. I have washed at the spout ever since I have been here," said Ellen, laughing in spite of her vexation.

"And do the pigs share the water with you?"

"The pigs? Oh no, ma'am. The trough is raised up from the ground on little heaps of stones. They can't get at the water, unless they drink at the spring, and I don't think they do that, so many big stones stand around it."

"Well, Ellen, I must say that it is rather uncomfortable, even without any danger of four-footed society."

"It isn't so bad just now," said Ellen, "in this warm weather, but in that cold time we had a week or two back, do you remember, Miss Alice? – just before the Indian summer began? – oh, how disagreeable it was! Early in the morning, you know, the sun scarcely up, and the cold wind blowing my hair and my clothes all about, and then that board before the spout, that I have to stand on, is always kept wet by the spattering of the water, and it's muddy besides and very slippery – there's a kind of green stuff comes upon it, and I can't stoop down for fear of muddying myself. I have to tuck my clothes round me and bend over as well as I can, and fetch up a little water to my face in the hollow of my hand, and of course I have to do that a great many times before I get enough. I can't help laughing," said Ellen, "but it isn't a laughing matter for all that."

"So you wash your face in your hands, and have no pitcher but a long wooden trough? Poor child! I am sorry for you. I think you must have some other way of managing before the snow comes."

"The water is bitterly cold already," said Ellen. "It's the coldest water I ever saw. Mamma gave me a nice dressing-box before I came away, but I found very soon this was a queer place for a dressing-box to come to. Why, Miss Alice, if I take out my brush or comb I haven't any table to lay them on but one that's too high, and my poor dressing-box has to stay on the floor. And I haven't a sign of a bureau; all my things are tumbling about in my trunk."

"I think if I were in your place I would not permit that, at any rate," said Alice. "If my things were confined to my trunk I would have them keep good order there, at least."

"Well, so they do," said Ellen; "pretty good order. I didn't mean 'tumbling about' exactly."

"Always try to say what you mean exactly. But now, Ellen love, do you know I must send you away? Do you see the sunlight has quitted those distant hills? And it will be quite gone soon. You must hasten home."

Ellen made no answer. Alice had taken her on her lap again, and she was nestling there with her friend's arms wrapped around her. Both were quite still for a minute.

"Next week, if nothing happens, we will begin to be busy with our books. You shall come to me on Tuesday and Friday; and all the other days you must study as hard as you can at home, for I am very particular, I forewarn you."

"But suppose Aunt Fortune should not let me come?" said Ellen, without stirring.

"Oh, she will. You need not speak about it; I'll come down and ask her myself, and nobody ever refuses me anything."

"I shouldn't think they would," said Ellen.

"Then don't you set the first example," said Alice laughingly. "I ask you to be cheerful and happy, and grow wiser and better every day."

"Dear Miss Alice! How can I promise that?"

"Dear Ellen, it is very easy. There is One who has promised to hear and answer you when you cry to Him; He will make you in His own likeness again; and to know and love Him and not be happy is impossible. That blessed Saviour!" said Alice; "oh, what should you and I do without Him, Ellen? 'As rivers of waters in a dry place; as the shadow of a great rock in a weary land.' How beautiful! how true! how often I think of that."

Ellen was silent, though entering into the feeling of the words.

"Remember Him, dear Ellen; remember your best friend. Learn more of Christ, our dear Saviour, and you can't help but be happy. Never fancy you are helpless and friendless while you have Him to go to. Whenever you feel wearied and sorry, flee to the shadow of that great rock; will you? and do you understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am – yes, ma'am," said Ellen, as she lifted her lips to kiss her friend. Alice heartily returned the kiss, and pressing Ellen in her arms, said —

"Now, Ellen, dear, you must go; I dare not keep you any longer. It will be too late now, I fear, before you reach home."

Quick they mounted the little path again, and soon were at the house; and Ellen was putting on her things.

"Next Tuesday, remember – but before that! Sunday – you are to spend Sunday with me; come bright and early."

"How early?"

"Oh, as early as you please – before breakfast – and our Sunday morning breakfasts aren't late, Ellen; we have to set off betimes to go to church."

Kisses and good-byes; and then Ellen was running down the road at a great rate, for twilight was beginning to gather, and she had a good way to go.

She ran till out of breath; then walked a while to gather breath; then ran again. Running down hill is a pretty quick way of travelling; so before very long she saw her aunt's house at a distance. She walked now. She had come all the way in good spirits, though with a sense upon her mind of something disagreeable to come; when she saw the house this disagreeable something swallowed up all her thoughts, and she walked leisurely on, pondering what she had to do, and what she was like to meet in the doing of it.

"If Aunt Fortune should be in a bad humour – and say something to vex me – but I'll not be vexed. But it will be very hard to help it; but I will not be vexed; I have done wrong, and I'll tell her so, and ask her to forgive me; it will be hard – but I'll do it – I'll say what I ought to say, and then, however she takes it, I shall have the comfort of knowing I have done right." "But," said conscience, "you must not say it stiffly and proudly; you must say it humbly, and as if you really felt and meant it." "I will," said Ellen.

She paused in the shed and looked through the window to see what was the promise of things within. Not good; her aunt's step sounded heavy and ominous; Ellen guessed she was not in a pleasant state of mind. She opened the door – no doubt of it – the whole air of Miss Fortune's figure, to the very handkerchief that was tied round her head, spoke displeasure.

"She isn't in a good mood," said Ellen, as she went upstairs to leave her bonnet and cape there; "I never knew her to be good-humoured when she had that handkerchief on."

She returned to the kitchen immediately. Her aunt was busied in washing and wiping the dishes.

"I have come home rather late," said Ellen pleasantly; "shall I help you, Aunt Fortune?"

Her aunt cast a look at her.