Page:The Clergyman's Wife.djvu/146

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144
It might be Worse.

Ellen's devotion to her friend strengthened even until the hour of her death, which took place some years later. They corresponded faithfully, and in her letters Ellen poured out her full heart. After the lapse of a few years, they met once more. The storms had blown over the head of one, time had soothed some of her sorrows, success had rewarded her exertions, many a wound had healed, and many a broken link of friendship had been re-united; but the unmitigated gloom that surrounded Ellen was imprevious to a single ray of joy. She grew feebler and feebler, her sufferings and her disfigurement increased, until the one joyful hour when her Master bade her fling off the poor, mangled, earthly garment of her soul and stand before his presence, robed in the eternal loveliness of her pain-purified spirit.

Her memory was greenly preserved in the heart of her friend, the thought of Ellen blunted the sting of many an arrow, lifted the weight from many a burden, and taught her, with each new trouble, to reflect, "It might be worse!"