Chapter VI: Suffering for Conscience Sake

MISS MANSFIELD was quite willing that Ellen should go with Mary to the Bible-class. During the time the latter had been in her employ, she had worked so steadily and faithfully that Miss Mansfield felt the utmost confidence in her, and had no fear of her leading Ellen into mischief.

Accordingly, the next Sunday afternoon, Mary called for Ellen, and the two set off together for the school at which the class was held. It took them about twenty minutes to reach it, and as the afternoon was bright, Ellen thoroughly enjoyed the walk thither. She felt rather shy and awkward as she entered the class-room, where about a dozen girls were seated, awaiting the arrival of their teacher. But they greeted the new-comer kindly, and she soon felt at ease with them.

Presently Miss Graham, their teacher, came in, and Ellen felt drawn to her directly she looked at her pleasant face, with its sweet smile and soft, loving blue eyes. She gave Ellen a kind welcome to the class, and expressed the hope that she would be willing and able to attend regularly.

"Have you not a Bible?" Miss Graham asked, seeing that Ellen was about to look over with Mary.

"No, ma'am, I have not one of my own," replied Ellen, colouring as she spoke.

"Then I will give you one, so that you may not say that any longer," said Miss Graham pleasantly, opening a drawer in the table at which she was seated, and taking from it a neat little black Bible, in which she proceeded to write Ellen's name.

Ellen was very pleased to receive this gift, and longed to show it to Jerry, whose admiration, she knew, it would be sure to call forth.

She was interested in the lesson that followed, and went away at the close of the class, carrying her Bible in her hand, resolved to read it frequently, that she might become able to answer Miss Graham's questions as readily as Mary and some other of the girls had done.

Every Sunday for the next few weeks, she went with Mary to the class, although Julia laughed at her for doing so. She used to write Jerry many a letter containing an account of the lessons Miss Graham had given at the class.

These letters were eagerly read by the poor sick lad, and the passages of Scripture to which reference was made, examined. He was somewhat better than he had been when Ellen left home. The attacks of pain were less frequent, and his spirits bright and hopeful. His faith in the Lord Jesus, though simple and childlike, was strong, and he often spoke confidently of the time, which he believed would soon come, when the Lord would make him whole.

His letters to his sister—curious documents, written in a large, sprawling hand—contained many allusions to this hope. And from the cheering accounts of his improved health, which she received, not from himself alone, but also from her mother, Ellen was encouraged to hope that it might not prove deceptive.

One of the truths impressed upon her mind by Miss Graham's instruction, was the value and importance of prayer. And every day she prayed fervently that her little brother might be restored to health.

She had yet to learn her own need of spiritual health, and the preciousness of Christ as a Saviour from sin.

As winter approached, Miss Mansfield was overwhelmed with work, and stitch as fast as they might, she and her assistants were scarcely able to get it all done. It would have been well, if Miss Mansfield had had the good sense to refrain from undertaking more than it was in her power to accomplish. But she never liked to refuse work, and would frequently promise to execute an order by a given time when she knew it was quite impossible for her to do so.

She did not spare herself, but worked the hardest of all. Her needle was seldom laid aside till after midnight, yet she was often plying it again before daylight. She suffered from such excessive application, and became so impatient and irritable, that Ellen was quite afraid to address her. The least mistake was sure to be most severely censured.

"It's of no use making a fuss about it," exclaimed Miss Mansfield, one Saturday evening, when the girls were bending over their work with pale, weary faces, for it was past their usual hour of dismissal. "These dresses must be got out of hand. You will have to come for a couple of hours to-morrow, Mary, and help me finish them off."

Mary looked up in astonishment, not unmixed with fear. She grew red for a moment, but the colour quickly faded from her face, leaving it paler than before.

"Come to-morrow, Miss Mansfield?" she repeated questioningly, as if she doubted the hearing of her ears.

"Yes, to-morrow; do I not speak plainly enough?" replied Miss Mansfield, with impatience.

"I cannot come on Sunday, Miss Mansfield," said Mary firmly, though her voice betrayed agitation.

"And why not, pray?" asked her employer, sharply.

"Because I think it would be wrong to do such work on the Lord's day," answered Mary.

"Do you think I should ask you to do it, if it were wrong?" returned the dressmaker, angrily. "But I suppose I don't know what is right. You are one of those Pharisees who set themselves up for being better than everybody else. Of course, it is wrong to work upon Sundays as a rule, but this is a case of necessity. And I only want you to come for two hours in the morning. You'd be able to go to your Bible-class in the afternoon, and to church in the evening. What harm could there be in that, just for once?"

"I am very sorry, ma'am," replied Mary, "but I can't think it would be right to do so."

"You'd better say you would rather not oblige me. That would be nearer the truth, I expect," returned Miss Mansfield. "But I won't put up with such hypocritical ways. If you don't choose to help me to-morrow, you need not trouble yourself to come here again."

"Oh, pray do not say that!" exclaimed Mary, imploringly.

"I do say it, and I mean it too," retorted Miss Mansfield, who had worked herself up into a passion. "So now you understand, and can act accordingly. If you don't come to-morrow, you shan't come on Monday. Now which will you do?"

"Indeed, ma'am, I can't come to-morrow," replied Mary, in great distress. "I will work extra hours next week, or do anything I can to oblige you, but I cannot sew on Sunday."

"Very well, then, that is enough," said Miss Mansfield, white with anger. "Now you may put on your things and go home. And remember, I do not wish to see you here again, unless you think better of your refusal to comply with my wishes. Here is your week's wages."

Mary's tears fell fast as she prepared to obey this unkind command. With trembling hands, she slowly put on her bonnet and shawl, and turned to take her leave. She paused for a moment at the door, and cast a beseeching glance of distress at her stern employer.

But Miss Mansfield had taken up her work, and was apparently stitching away too earnestly to be conscious of her appealing look.

"Good-night, ma'am," said Mary, in a broken voice.

Miss Mansfield's needle suddenly snapped in two, and she uttered an impatient exclamation, but took no notice of Mary's words. And, sorely troubled, the poor girl went slowly downstairs and out of the house.