FullReads

Meanwhile time passed, and though Ellen was daily called upon to yield her own particular preferences to Mr. Gorton’s, as she had done even on her bridal day, she was comparatively happy. Had she possessed less keenness of sensibility, she might have been happier; or had Mr. Gorton possessed more, that he could have understood her, many tears would have been spared her. Oftentimes, things comparatively trifling to him would wound the sensitive nature of Ellen most painfully, and he of course would have no conception why they should thus affect her.

Occupied as he was mostly with worldly transactions and political affairs, Ellen’s mind often, in his absence, reverted to the scenes of her youth, and her childhood home, her mother, and the bright band of her young sisters; and longings would come up in her heart to behold them once more.

Two years having passed without her having seen one member of her family, she one day asked Mr. Gorton if it would not be convenient soon to make a visit to Chester. He answered that his arrangements would not admit of it at present–and coldly and cruelly asked her if she had yet heard of Grandma Nichols’ decease. Ellen answered not, and bent her head over the face of her little Frederic, who was sleeping, to hide her tears. Perceiving her emotion, however, he added,

“Ellen, I assure you it is impossible for me to comply with your wish, but I will write to your mother, and urge her to visit us–will not that do?”

Ellen’s face brightened, as with a beam of sunshine, and springing to her husband’s side, she laid her glowing cheek upon his, and then smiled upon him so sweetly that even the cold heart of Frederic Gorton glowed with a warmth unusual.

Seven years passed away, leaving their shadows as the sun does. And Ellen–

“But matron care, or lurking woe,
Her thoughtless, sinless look had banished,
And from her cheek the roseate glow
Of girlhood’s balmy morn had vanished;
Within her eyes, upon her brow,
Lay something softer, fonder, deeper,
As if in dreams some visioned woe
Has broke the Elysium of the sleeper.”

Never yet, since that bright bridal morn, had Ellen looked upon her native village, though scarcely three hundred miles separated her from it. Now her heart beat quick and joyfully, for her husband had told her that business would call him to that vicinity in a few days, and she might accompany him. With all the willful eagerness of a child she set her heart on that visit, and from morning till night she would talk with her little boys of the journey to what seemed to her the brightest, most sacred spot on earth, next to her present home. And the home of one’s childhood! no matter how sweet, how-dear and beloved the home the heart afterwards loves, it never forgets, it never ceases most fondly to turn back to the memories, and the scenes, and the friends of its early years.

One fault, if fault it might be called, among so many excellencies in Ellen’s character, was that of putting off “till to-morrow what should be done today.” This had troubled Mr. Gorton exceedingly, who, prompt himself, would naturally wish others to be so also, and notwithstanding his constant complaints, and Ellen’s desire to please him, she had not yet overcome her nature in that respect, though she had greatly improved. The evening preceding the intended departure, Mr. Gorton said to his wife,

“Now, Ellen, I hope you will have everything in readiness for an early departure in the morning. Have the boys and yourself all ready the moment the carriage is at the door, for you know I do not like to be obliged to wait.”

Almost before the stars had disappeared in the sky, Ellen was busy in her final preparations. She was sure she should have everything in season, and wondered how her husband could suppose otherwise, upon an occasion in which she had so much interest. Several minutes before the appointed time, Ellen had all in readiness for departure, the trunks all packed and locked, the children in their riding dresses and caps; and proceeding from her dressing-room to the front hall door, she was thinking that this time, certainly, she should not hear the so oft repeated complaint–