Ellen was the only surviving child of a father who died while she was very young; and of a pious mother who brought her up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, and who, being herself an accomplished lady, with a limited income, had educated her with great care. At the age of eighteen she began to notice that her mother dwelt much on the subject of the world to come. Sometimes a foreboding entered Ellen’s mind, which proved but too true; for her mother felt that heart and flesh were failing. As yet she knew not how to break the subject to her darling child; but the pallid cheek and the decaying form soon told the sad tale to the alarmed girl, although for a while she supported her hope by depending on the efficacy of medical skill.
Now her mother would press the things of God on her attention with tenfold earnestness, and, while describing the condition of one truly converted, and the breathings of a soul adopted into the family of God, would ask with a faltering tongue, “Oh, my Ellen, have you found the work of the Spirit of God upon your heart? Are you a new creature in Christ Jesus?” Ellen would weep, and say she hoped she was; and the exhausted parent would weep and hope too. But Ellen, when alone, and pondering on those things, felt there was some difference which she could not account for; the deep interest which her mother had always manifested in the Word of God, struck her mind as forming a. strange contrast to her own formal perusal of its sacred pages. Prayer also, which called forth so frequently all the emotions of her mother’s heart, with her was rather repeating prayers than praying; still, she thought herself a Christian, for her conduct was outwardly blameless. Occasionally she would ask herself, “Can all this difference be owing to the diversity of years?” But these inward debates were soon absorbed in the alarm of the rapid advance of disease in her beloved mother. The Bible and Christ were her all. Even her dear child Ellen, in whom she had seemed bound to earth, was given up in faith to the Lord, and resigned to His guardian care; for she knew her end was near.
One morning she called gently to Ellen, who was alone with her, then hastily took her pocket Bible from its place on the pillow, gazed for one moment on it as a most precious treasure, then sweetly smiling on her pale and agitated child, as if to compose her alarm, and suddenly holding to her the Word of God, just uttered, “Here, Ellen, take, take this, faith for sight,” and then fell asleep in Jesus.
The first perception that brought Ellen’s thoughts to her own situation was the chill of the cold hand, which had been clasped in her own, while the bequeathed Bible was held in the other. She pressed the precious volume to her heart, had only strength to call the nurse, and then fell down insensible. On being restored from the swoon, tears came to her relief, and then the anguish of her bereaved condition began to open upon her.
Her guardian, although a professor of religion, was really devoted to gaiety, and Ellen wanted more than she found in all around her. There was no heart to feel as she did, or to share her distress. She was not only a mourner for the dead, hut unhappy in herself, and knew not where to find a remedy.
At length she remembered how her mother, in all her sorrow, had retired to her Bible, and there found consolation; and she devoted a portion of every morning and evening to the study of its sacred pages. Still, as she came to portions marked by her dear parent’s hand, as having been found precious to her soul, Ellen wondered that she found none of that sweet consolation which she knew to have often rejoiced her mother’s heart. In fact, many of its passages appeared to have some meaning which she could not grasp, to make some appeal to the soul which she could not feel; but while musing on the strange interest which her mother found in the holy pages, and at her own strange unconcern, the thought occurred, “Is not this very apathy a part of the burden which the Lord invites me to cast on Him? Must there not be some further opening of the understanding and affections of the heart, wrought by God, which I have not known?” This consideration induced the afflicted girl earnestly to pray to God that what she knew not He would deign to teach her; that His light might be upon His word, and His power upon her soul.
The Lord was now gradually drawing her to Himself, yet it was not till after many weeks that she found peace. How differently did the Scriptures now affect her mind! They were full of interest, because there was the promised work of the Holy Spirit within corresponding with the Word from without; all its disclosures were suitable to her condition; she wanted what they presented. Hungry and thirsty, she came to the Word of God, and was satisfied.
Nearly two years passed in this serene and happy fellowship with God, during which Ellen well sustained the reproach of the cross. Her views of the danger to which the frivolity and vanity she saw around her, exposed the souls of her former companions, led her to endeavor to manifest that danger to them. The taunts, the sneers, the affected pity with which she was assailed, affected her not.
But a greater danger was near. She thought her mountain stood strong, and would never be moved. The duty of watchfulness over her heart was less cautiously observed, and that, too, at a time when a temptation was about to present itself.
She began to attract the attention of Mr. R—, a young man of most amiable disposition and elegant manners, who, with an elder brother, had just succeeded to a respectable competency by the death of his father. He had been educated for the law, but had now retired, content with a sufficiency for the comforts of life; and was distinguished for considerable attainments in literature possessing at once at acute mind, great natural powers, an excellent temper, an unblemished moral character, and a pleasing person.
Mr. R- closely observed Ellen, and thought that if he could laugh her out of what he considered her too great precision of habit, and enthusiasm of religious feeling, she would form a partner in whom his heart would delight. When first he paid his addresses to her, every friend and acquaintance around congratulated her on her happiness. Objection seemed impossible, and Ellen herself could not but be prepossessed in his favor. She thought that nothing was deficient in him to form an exalted character but true religion, of which she felt conscious he knew nothing. Yet there was such a pliancy and gentleness, such a tendency to all that was good, that she thought, “May I not be the means of winning him over to the things of God?” Still, the Word of God, with which she was well acquainted, clearly forbade the union. “Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers,” (2 Cor. 6:1414Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers: for what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? and what communion hath light with darkness? (2 Corinthians 6:14)), was a barrier that her mind could not surmount. She knew that others had violated it, and yet were thought Christians still. She mused and hesitated. Conscience told her she ought to break off the acquaintance; but the conflict had now begun with inclination. She could not pray, as before, with the simple desire to know and follow the will of God, and the inward tumult made the attempt irksome. She relaxed in the endeavor, and though she ceased not to pray, yet it was now with a confusion and formality that sometimes told her all was not well within. The parley with temptation advanced till her own affections became entangled; and what with the assiduity of her admirer, and the urgent pressing of her aunt, and of other connections, the affair was hastily, concluded, and Ellen became the wife of Mr. R- before she well thought what she was doing.
(To be continued)