clared, that she would marry him even if she knew he'd be a
drunkard, adding, "But he won't be. He loves me better than all the
world, and I shall help him to reform."

"I don't believe your sister would marry him," continued Mrs.
Campbell, who was becoming much attached to Mary.

"I don't believe she would, either, and for a very good reason, too,"
returned Ella, pettishly jerking her long curls. "But I can't see why
you should bring her up, for he has never been more than polite to
her, and that he assured me was wholly on my account."

"She isn't pleased with your engagement!" said Mrs. Campbell; and Ella
replied, "Well, what of that? It's nothing to her, and I didn't mean
she should know it; but Jenny, like a little tattler, must needs tell
her, and so she has read me a two hours' sermon on the subject. She
acted so queer, too, I didn't know what to think of her, and when she
and Henry are together, they look so funny, that I almost believe she
wants him herself, but she can't have him,--no, she can't have
him,"--and secure in the belief that _she_ was the first and only
object of Henry's affection, Ella danced out of the room to attend to
the seamstress who was doing her plain sewing.

After she was gone, Mrs. Campbell fell asleep, and for the first time
in many a long year dreamed of her old home in England. She did not
remember it herself, but she had so often heard it described by the
aunt who adopted her, that now it came up vividly before her mind,
with its dark stone walls, its spacious grounds, terraced gardens,
running vines and creeping roses. Something about it, too, reminded
her of what Ella had once said of her mother's early home, and when
she awoke, she wondered that she had never questioned the child more
concerning her parents. She was just lying back again upon her pillow,
when there was a gentle rap at the door, and Mary Howard's soft voice
asked permission to come in.

"Yes, do," said Mrs. Campbell. "Perhaps you can charm away my
headache, which is dreadful."

"I'll try," answered Mary. "Shall I read to you?"

"If you please; but first give me my salts. You'll find them there in
that drawer."

Mary obeyed, but started as she opened the drawer, for there, on the
top, lay a small, old-fashioned miniature, of a fair young child, so
nearly resembling Franky, that the tears instantly came to her eyes.

"What is it?" asked Mrs Campbell, and Mary replied, "This
picture,--so much like brother