he
letter was long unanswered, and when at last Sarah's uncle wrote, he
said, that 'independent of _old Temple's_ aid she had received a good
education;' adding further, that she had married and gone west, and
that he was intending soon to follow her. He neither gave the name of
her husband, or the place to which they were going, and as all our
subsequent letters were unanswered, I know not whether she is dead or
alive; but often when I think how alone I am, without a relative in
the world, I have prayed and wept that she might come back; for though
I never knew her,--never saw her that I remember, she was my mother's
child, and I should love her for that."

Just then Ella came singing into the room, but started when she saw
how excited Mrs. Campbell appeared, and how swollen her eyelids were.

"Why, what's the matter?" said she. "I never saw you cry before,
excepting that time when I told you I was going to marry Henry," and
Ella laughed a little spiteful laugh, for she had not yet recovered
from her anger at what Mrs. Campbell had said when she was in there
before.

"Hush--sh," said Mary softly; and Mrs. Campbell, drawing Ella to her
side, told her of the strange discovery she had made; then beckoning
Mary to approach, she laid a hand upon each of the young girls' heads,
and blessing them, called them "her own dear children."

It would be hard telling what Ella's emotions were. One moment she was
glad, and the next she was sorry, for she was so supremely selfish,
that the fact of Mary's being now in every respect her equal, gave her
more pain than pleasure. Of course, Mrs. Campbell would love her
best,--every body did who knew her,--every body but Henry. And when
Mrs. Campbell asked why she did not speak, she replied, "Why, what
shall I say? shall I go into ecstasies about it? To be sure I'm
glad,--very glad that you are my aunt. Will Mary live here now?"

"Yes, always," answered Mrs. Campbell; and "No never," thought Mary.

Her sister's manner chilled her to the heart. She thoroughly
understood her, and felt sure they could not be happy together, for
Ella was to live at home even after her marriage. There was also
another, and stronger reason, why Mary should not remain with her
aunt. Mrs. Mason had the first, best claim upon her. She it was who
had befriended her when a lonely, neglected orphan, taking her from
the alms-house, and giving her a pleasant, happy home. She it was,
too, who in sickness and health