“Well, I do think Mary looks well in flounces,” returned Henry, “but she is almost a head taller than you, and better proportioned every way.”

Ella longed to remind him of a time when he called her sister “a hay pole,” while he likened herself to “a little sylph, fairy;” &c., but she dared not; and Henry, bent on finding fault, touched her white bare shoulder, saying “I wish you wouldn’t wear such dresses.  Mary don’t except at parties, and I heard a gentleman say that she displayed better taste than any young lady of his acquaintance.”

Ella was thoroughly angry, and amid a fresh shower of tears exclaimed, “Mary,—­Mary,—­I’m sick of the name.  It’s nothing but Mary,—­Mary all day long with Mrs. Campbell, and now you must thrust her in my face.  If you think her so perfect, why don’t you marry her, instead of me?”

“Simply because she won’t have me,” returned Henry, and then not wishing to provoke Ella too far, he playfully threw his arm around her waist, adding “But come, my little beauty, don’t let’s quarrel any more about her.  I ought to like my sister, and you shouldn’t be jealous.  So throw on your cloak, and let’s be off.”

“Oh, no, not yet.  It’s too early” answered Ella, nothing loth to have an hour alone with him.

So they sat down together upon the sofa, and after asking about Rose, and how long Jenny was to remain in Glenwood, Ella, chancing to think of the strange discovery that day made with regard to herself and Mary, mentioned it to Henry, who seemed much more excited about it than she had been.

“Mrs. Campbell, your mother’s sister!” said he.  “And Mary’s aunt too?  Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because I didn’t think of it,” returned Ella.  “And it’s nothing so very marvellous either, or at least it does not affect me in the least.”  Henry did not reply, but there was that passing through his mind which might affect Ella not a little.  As the reader knows, he was marrying her for her money; and now if that money was to be shared with another, the bride lost half her value!  But such thoughts must not be expressed, and when Henry next spoke, he said very calmly, “Well, I’m glad on Mary’s account, for your aunt will undoubtedly share her fortune with her;” and Henry’s eyes turned upon Ella with a deeper meaning than she could divine.

It was so long since Ella had felt the need of money that she had almost ceased to know its value, and besides this, she had no suspicion of Henry’s motive in questioning her; so she carelessly replied that nothing had been said on the subject, though she presumed her aunt would make Mary heiress with herself, as she had recently taken a violent fancy to her.  Here the conversation flagged, and Henry fell into a musing mood, from which Ella was forced to rouse him when it was time to go.  As if their thoughts were flowing in the same channel, Mrs. Campbell that evening was thinking of Mary, and trying to devise some means by which to atone for neglecting her so long.  Suddenly a new idea occurred to her, upon which she determined immediately to act, and the next morning Mr. Worthington was sent for, to draw up a new will, in which Mary Howard was to share equally with her sister.