She knew, if her aunt were conscious of her attention, much as perhaps she might approve of the motive, she would deem it a needless sacrifice, and probably prohibit its continuance; or, if she permitted and encouraged it, the merit of her action would no longer exist, nor could she indeed, while in the enjoyment of praise, have finished a task, commenced and carried on purely for the sake of duty, and as an atonement for the past, by the sacrifice of inclination, make peace with the gracious God she had offended.

Petty trials were welcome then, for if she met them with a Christian temper, a Christian spirit, she might hope that, whatever she might endure, she was progressing in His paths, "whose ways are pleasantness, and whose paths are peace;" could she but remove the lingering displeasure and distrust of her aunt and uncle, she would be quite happy.
It so happened that Emmeline's next engagement was to the Opera, which was always Ellen's greatest conquest of inclination.

She had amused herself by superintending her cousin's dressing, and a sigh so audibly escaped, that Emmeline instantly exclaimed-- "Ellen, you know you would like to go with us.

In the name of all that is incomprehensible, why do you stay at home ?" "Because, much as I own I should like to go with you, I like better to stay at home." "You really are the spirit of contradiction, Ellen.

What did you sigh for ?" "Not for the Opera, Emmeline." "Then why ?" "Because I cannot bear to feel my aunt has lost all her confidence in me." "You are marvellously silly, Ellen; mamma is just the same to you as usual, I have observed no difference." "Dear Emmeline, coldness is not _seen_, it is _felt_, and as you have been so happy as never to have felt it, you cannot understand what I mean." "Nor do I ever wish to feel it.