d the shock was too great and
too sudden for her to bear. A telegram from a down-town office, which
brought the dreadful intelligence, lay upon the table, and it was
signed, simply "N. M."

From this circumstance alone it was painfully evident that Nellie Mason
was a bad and designing individual. Mrs. Stone was sweetly reclining
on a richly-covered couch, and her faithful husband was lovingly
administering to her every little want. The lady, like tender blades
of grass that have been watered by a passing storm, seemed more
beautiful than before her severe trial. Under the warm sunshine of
sympathy and love, her many pleasing charms shone like diamonds in the
diadem of royalty.

Seating myself within easy hearing distance of the fair Mrs. Stone, she
began the enchanting tale about Nellie Mason, the sorceress. It was as
follows:

"My maiden name was Francis West. My parents died when I was young,
and I went to live with an aunt in Peekskill on the Hudson. There I
received every attention that a dear relative could bestow upon the
young offspring of a deceased sister. There I attended school, and in
that school I first met Nellie Mason. She was about my age, and, like
myself, was living with an aunt, though she was not an orphan.

"Pardon me when I tell you that I was an attractive young miss in those
days. Young girls know as well as older ones that good looks, grace,
and fine dress are envious attractions. No one understood this more
perfectly than Nellie Mason.

"At school, at church, at parties, and everywhere, she seemed to grieve
at my good fortune. I always treated her kindly, for I had been taught
the charm of charity, yet, with all, it seemed that sometimes I could
no longer bear the unpleasant feeling that steals over a person when it
is known that another is constantly trying to imitate, and perhaps
injure you.

"It is true, she looked like me in several particulars. That is,
Nature had made her something like me, and the points of difference she
was ceaselessly attempting to assimilate. There was only one marked
difference, but that was easily changed. Her hair was brown; now it is
exactly like mine. We were in the same classes and the same social
circles.

"She tried to imitate my voice, my actions, and, so perfectly did she
imitate my writing, that no person can tell which is the genuine and
which the false. Whenever I procured a new gown, Nellie was as certain
to have one like it a