earful trial
might be removed from Herbert. To spare him one pang, oh, what would she
not have endured. Controlled and calm, who could have guessed the chaos
of contending feeling that was passing within; who, that had seen the
gentle smile with which she would receive Herbert's impassioned thanks
for her care of his Mary, could have suspected the thrill, the pang
those simple words occasioned. Mary alone of those around her, except
Mrs. Hamilton, was not deceived. She loved Ellen, had long done so, and
the affectionate attention she so constantly received from her had drawn
the bonds of friendship closer. She felt convinced she was not happy,
that there was something heavy on her mind, and the quick intellect of a
vivid fancy and loving nature guessed the truth. Her wish to see her
happy became so powerful, that she could not control it. She fancied
that Ellen might be herself deceived, and that the object of her
affections once known, all difficulties would be smoothed. The idea that
her last act might be to secure the happiness of Ellen, was so soothing
to her grateful and affectionate feelings, that, after dwelling on it
some time, she took the first opportunity of being alone with her friend
to seek her confidence.

"No, dearest, do not read to me," she said, one evening, in answer to
Ellen's question. "I would rather talk with you; do not look anxious, I
will not fatigue myself. Come, and sit by me, dear Ellen, it is of you
that I would speak."

"Of me?" repeated Ellen, surprised. "Nay, dearest Mary, can you not find
a more interesting subject?"

"No, love, for you are often in my thoughts; the approach of death has,
I think, sharpened every faculty, for I see and read trifles clearer
than I ever did before; and I can read through all that calm control and
constant smile that you are not happy, my kind Ellen; and will you think
me a rude intruder on your thoughts if I ask you why?"

"Do you not remember, Mary, I was ever unlike others?" replied Ellen,
shrinking from her penetrating gaze. "I never knew what it was to be
lively and joyous even as a child, and as years increase, is it likely
that I should? I am contented with my lot, and with so many blessings
around, should I not be ungrateful were I otherwise?"

"You evade my question, Ellen, and convince me more and more that I am
right. Ah, you know not how my last hour would be soothed, could I feel
that I had done aught to restore happiness to one who has