ung girl, named Ellen Graham, had been sent for, in hopes that her
lively society would have a good effect on Alice's unequal spirits; and
after much deliberation it was determined that the family, with the
exception of Miss Janet, should pass the winter in Washington. Miss Janet
could not be induced to go to that Vanity Fair, as she called it; and if
proper arrangements for her comfort could not be made, the project would
have to be given up. After many proposals, each one having an unanswerable
difficulty, the old lady returned from town one day, with a very satisfied
countenance, having persuaded Mrs. Williams, a widow, and her daughter, to
pass the winter at Exeter with her. Mrs. Williams was a much valued friend
of the Weston family, and as no objection could be found to this
arrangement, the affair was settled. Alice, although the cause of the move,
was the only person who was indifferent on the subject. Ellen Graham, young
and gay as she was, would like to have entered into any excitement that
would make her forget the past. She fancied it would be for her happiness,
could the power of memory be destroyed. She had not sufficient of the
experience of life to appreciate the old man's prayer, "Lord, keep my
memory green."

Ellen at an early age, and an elder brother, were dependent, not for
charity, but for kindness and love, on relatives who for a long time felt
their guardianship a task. They were orphans; they bore each other company
in the many little cares of childhood; and the boy, as is not unusual in
such a case, always looked to his sister for counsel and protection, not
from actual unkindness, but from coldness and unmerited reproof. They
never forgot their parting with their mother--the agony with which she
held them to her bosom, bitterly reflecting they would have no such
resting-place in the cold world, in which they were to struggle.

Yet they were not unkindly received at their future home. Their uncle and
aunt, standing on the piazza, could not without tears see the delicate
children in their deep mourning, accompanied only by their aged and
respectable colored nurse, raise their eyes timidly, appealing to them for
protection, as hand in hand they ascended the steps. It was a large and
dreary-looking mansion, and many years had passed since the pictures of the
stiff looking cavalier and his smiling lady, hanging in the hall, had
looked down upon children at home there. The echoes of their own voices