r tireless watch over her loved
and lost.

"Willie was my cousin--your cousin," said Mary, resting her foot upon
the bit of board which stood at the head of the little graves. George
understood her wishes, and when they left the place, a handsome marble
slab marked the spot where the father and his infant son were buried.

* * * * *

Bewildered, and unable to comprehend a word, Sally listened while Mary
told her of the relationship between them; but the mists which for
years had shrouded her reason were too dense to be suddenly cleared
away; and when Mary wept, winding her arms around her neck and calling
her "Aunt;" and when the elegant Mrs. Campbell, scarcely less
bewildered than Sally herself, came forward addressing her as
"sister," she turned aside to Mrs. Mason, asking in a whisper "what
had made them crazy."

But when Mary spoke of little Willie's grave, and the tree which
overshadowed it, of the green prairie and cottage by the brook, once
her western home, Sally listened, and at last one day, a week or two
after her arrival in Boston, she suddenly clasped her hands closely
over her temples, exclaiming, "It's come! It's come! I remember
now,--the large garden,--the cross old man,--the dead mother,--the
rosy-cheeked Ella I loved so well--"

"That was my mother,--my mother," interrupted Mary.

For a moment Sally regarded her intently, and then catching her in her
arms, cried over her, calling her, "her precious child," and wondering
she had never noticed how much she was like Ella.

"And don't you remember the baby Jane?" asked Mrs Campbell, who was
present.

"Perfectly,--perfectly," answered Sally. "He died, and you came in a
carriage; but didn't cry,--nobody cried but Mary."

It was in vain that Mary tried to explain to her that Mrs. Campbell
was her sister,--once the baby Jane. Sally was not to be convinced. To
her Jane and the little Alice were the same. There was none of her
blood in Mrs. Campbell's veins, "or why," said she, "did she leave us
so long in obscurity, me and my niece, _Mrs. George Moreland, Esq.!_"

This was the title which she always gave Mary when speaking of her,
while to Ella, who occasionally spent a week in her sister's pleasant
home, she gave the name of "little cipher," as expressing exactly her
opinion of her. Nothing so much excited Sally, or threw her into so
violent a passion, as to have Ella call her aunt.

"If I wasn't her kin when I wor