r death, he sent me no
answer; but at this I did not so much wonder, for he never wrote
oftener than once in two or three years, and the next that I heard, he
was dead, and I was heiress of all his wealth."

Then, as the conviction came over her that Mary was indeed the child
of her own sister, she wound her arms about her neck, and kissing her
lips, murmured, "My child,--my Mary. Oh, had I known this sooner, you
should not have been so cruelly deserted, and little Allie should
never have died in the alms-house. But you'll never leave me now, for
all that I have is yours--yours and Ella's."

The thought of Ella touched a new chord, and Mrs Campbell's tears were
rendered less bitter, by the knowledge that she had cared for, and
been a mother, to one of her sister's orphan children.

"I know now," said she, "why, from the first, I felt so drawn towards
Ella, and why her clear, large eyes, are so much like my own lost
darling's, and even you, Mary--"

Here Mrs. Campbell paused, for proud as she now was of Mary, there had
been a time when the haughty lady turned away from the sober, homely
little child, who begged so piteously "to go with Ella" where there
was room and to spare. All this came up in sad review, before Mrs.
Campbell, and as she recalled the incidents of her sister's death, and
thought of the noble little Frank, who often went hungry and cold that
his mother and sisters might be warmed and fed, she felt that her
heart would burst with its weight of sorrow.

"Oh, my God!" said she, "to die so near me,--my only sister, and _I_
never know it,--never go near her. _I_ with all my wealth, as much
hers as mine,--and she dying of starvation."

Wiping the hot tears from her own eyes, Mary strove to comfort her
aunt by telling her how affectionately her mother had always
remembered her. "And even on the night of her death," said she, "she
spoke of you, and bade me, if I ever found you, love you for her
sake."

"Will you, do you love me?" asked Mrs. Campbell.

Mary's warm kiss upon her cheek, and the loving clasp of her arms
around her aunt's neck, was a sufficient answer.

"Do you know aught of my Aunt Sarah?" Mary asked at last; and Mrs.
Campbell replied, "Nothing definite. From father we first heard that
she was in New York, and then Aunt Morris wrote to her uncle, making
inquiries concerning her. I think the Fletchers were rather peculiar
in their dispositions, and were probably jealous of our family for t