As Many as Touched Him by Eglanton Thorne

THE next morning brought the longed-for letter, which was entirely to Ellen's satisfaction.

Her aunt was willing to teach her dressmaking, and, being in immediate need of another assistant, would be glad for Ellen to come to her with as little delay as possible.

Ellen busied herself with her preparations, and amid the bustle and excitement of the few days that intervened before her departure, the serious thoughts awakened in her mind by the preaching to which she had listened were driven away. Her time was so fully occupied, that her visits to Jerry's room were necessarily brief and hurried, and the conversation narrated in the preceding chapter was not renewed.

Yet Jerry had not forgotten it. His thoughts constantly dwelt on Him who made whole all who touched Him, and he read with deeper interest than before, the records of His blessed life. Many a prayer breathed from that couch of suffering reached the ear of the Great Physician, who sent an answer of peace to the heart of the sick child.

Not for physical health alone did Jerry make petition. The words repeated to him by his sister had revealed a deeper, more deadly malady than that which deprived his limbs of strength and caused him such pain. Jerry no longer doubted his sinfulness. Searching his heart by the light of God's Word, he discovered its hidden evil, and with the knowledge of sin came a longing for deliverance, which caused him to pray as earnestly for health of soul as for health of body. He knew that Jesus could forgive sins and he doubted not His willingness; so, touching by faith the Almighty Saviour, he received the blessing, and experienced a joyful assurance that his sins had been forgiven him for His name's sake.

"Jesus has forgiven my sins, Nelly," he whispered to his sister, on the morning of her departure, when she came to bid him good-bye. "And I believe that He will make me well yet, if I wait patiently. You know how long He kept that woman waiting who cried out to Him to heal her daughter. And yet, He healed her after all. So I hope He will make me whole, if I keep on asking Him. He has said to me, 'Be of good cheer, thy sins are forgiven thee'; soon, perhaps, I shall hear Him say, 'Arise and walk."

"I am sure I hope so, dear Jerry," said Ellen, wondering at her little brother's faith.

"I don't seem to mind lying here now," said Jerry. "I feel so much happier than I did, and everything seems bright about me. Not but what I am very sorry you are going to leave us, Ellen," he hastened to add, throwing his arms affectionately about his sister's neck.

"Dear Jerry, I cannot bear to say good-bye to you," exclaimed Ellen, with emotion. "But I will write to you as often as ever I can, and tell you all that I think you will like to hear. And you'll be sure to write to me, won't you, when you feel well enough?"

"Yes, I'll try to write, Nelly; but you know I'm not much of a hand at that sort of thing."

"Never mind what a scribble it is; I'll make it out somehow, never fear. I shall be only too glad to see your writing, whatever it looks like."

They would have said much more to each other, but Mrs. Mansfield's voice was now heard from below, bidding Ellen make haste, or she would not get to the distant station in time for the train. The brother and sister fondly but silently embraced, for both felt a choking sensation that made words almost impossible. And then Ellen tore herself away and ran downstairs. The light cart stood at the door with her small trunk already placed in it, and her father was waiting to drive her to the station.

Now that the moment of departure had come, Ellen found that it was more trying to leave her home than she had anticipated. She fairly broke down and cried heartily as she kissed her little brothers and sisters, and received her mother's last anxious injunctions with respect to her health and conduct. Willy had gathered a huge bunch of flowers for his sister as a parting gift, and little Johnny a few strawberries, and all had so much to say that Ellen would certainly have missed her train had she stayed to listen to them. Her father was obliged hastily to cut short the farewells, place her in the cart, and drive off without any more ado.

Ellen felt sad as she drove away, waving her hand to her brothers and sisters clustered at the gate, and her mother, who stood at the door with the baby in her arms. But she soon ceased to cry, and began to take a cheerful view of the separation. Her mind was busy with thoughts of the pleasant future which she imagined lay before her as they drove through the country lanes, between fields of ripening corn, or meadows still covered with sweet-scented hay.

"Good-bye, my lass," said her father, kissing her affectionately, as she sat in a third-class carriage, with her ticket for Charmouth in her hand. "Be a good girl, and try to please your aunt. Your father will be right glad to see you whenever you can come home."

The whistle sounded, and Ellen waved a last good-bye to her father as the train glided out of the station. She was off at last, as she had so often longed to be, going away from the irksome duties and restraints of a home which was after all, dearer to her than she had hitherto imagined, to new scenes and fresh employment, which she believed would prove less distasteful.

She was nearly two hours getting to Charmouth, although it was no great distance, for the train jogged along in a leisurely sort of way, stopping at all the little country stations, whose officials never seem to hurry themselves to secure its speedy departure. And, besides, she had to wait half an hour at a junction on the way. The morning had been bright and sunshiny when she started, but as she went along, she observed dark clouds gathering in the sky, and when she reached Charmouth it was raining heavily.