Walker Lake bulletin. (Hawthorne, Nev.) 1883-1926, 1901-12-20

ards soft voice asked permission 10 com,

haps you can charm away my headache,
which is dreadful"
I'm try answered Mary. "Shall |
read to yeu?n
"1f you please but first give me my
salts. You'll lind them there In that
drawer"
Mary obeyed, but started as she OPEN
cd the drawer, for there, on the top lay
a small, old-fashioned miniature of fair
young child, so nearly resembling Frauky
that the tears instantly came to her eyes.
What is it," asked Mrs. Campbell,
and Mary replied;
This picture-so much like brother
Frankly. May | look ut itt'
Certainly said Mrs. Campbell. THAT
is picture of my sister,"
For long time Mary gazed at the
sweet, childish face. which, with its clus-
tering curls, and soft brown eyes, looked
to her so much like Franky, At last,
turning to Mrs. Campbell, she said, you
must have loved her very much. What
was her name?'
ELLA Temple" was Mrs. Campbclrs
reply, and Mary instantly exclaimed:
why, that was my mothers name.'
'Your mother, Mary! your mother?"
said Mrs. Campbell, starting up frop, her
pillow. but no. 1t cannot be. Your
mother is lying in Chicopee, and ELLA,
my sister, died in England"
Every particle of color had left Mnry's
face, and her eyes, now black as mid
night, stared wildly at Mrs. Campbell.
The sad story, which her mother had
once told her, came back to her mind,
bringing with it the thought which had
so agitated her companion.
"Yes," she continued, without no.,eing
what Mrs. Campbell had said, my moth
er was Ella Temple, and she had two
sisters, one her own, and the other a
half-sister-Sarah Fletcher and lane
Temple-both of whom came to America
many years ago."
"Tell me more-tell me all you know"
whispered. Mrs. Campbell, grasping
Mary's hand "and how it came about
that thought she was dead-my sister"
Upon this point Mary could throw no
light, but of all that she had heard from
her mother she told, and then Mrs. Camp
bell, pointing to her writing desk, said
Bring it to me. | must read that let
ter again"
Mary obeyed, and taking out a Ia ich-
soiled, blOtted letter, Mrs. Campbell ask
ed her to read it aloud. 1t was as fol-
lows
Daughter Jane-I now take this OF por.
tunity of informing you that I've lost
your sister Ella, and have now no child
saving yourself, who, if you behave well,
will be my only heir. Sometimes | wish
you were here, for it's lonesome living
alone, but | suppose you're better off
where you are. Do you know anything
of that girl Sarah? Her cross-gralned
uncle has never written me word since
he left England. II | live three years
longer | shall come to America, and un.
til that time, adeu. Your father,
"HENRY TEMPLE"
"How short and coldp' was Mary's first
exclamation, for her impressions of her
grandfather were not very agreeable.
at is like all his letters" answered
Mrs. Campbell. But it was cruel to
make me think ella was dead, for how
else could ! suppose he had lost her?"
Then, as the conviction came over her
that Mary was indeed the child of her
own sister, she wound her arms about her
neck, and kissing her lips, murmured
"My child-Mary. oh, had known this
sooner, you should not have been so cru
ely deserted, and little Allie should new
er have died in the almshouse. But you'll
never leave me now, for all that | have
is yours-yours and Elias"
The thought of Ella touched new
chord, and Mrs. Campbell's tears were
rendered less bitter by the knowledge
that she had cared for, and been mother
to, one of her sisters orphan children.
Il know now, why, from the first, l
felt so drawn toward Ella, and why her
clear, large eyes are so much like my own
lost darings, and even you, Mary"
Here Mrs. Campbell paused, for proud
as she now was of Mary, there had been
a time when the naughty lady turned
away from the sober, homely little child,
who begged so piteously ito go with
Fila" where there was room and to spare.
All this came up in sad review before
Mrs. Campbell, and as she recalled the
incidents of her sisters death, and
thought of the noble little Frank, who
often went hungry and cold that his
mother and sisters might be warm and
fed, she felt that her heart would burst
with its weight Of sorrow.
"Oh," said she, ito die so near me
my only sister, and ! never know it
never go near her. with all my wealth,
as much hers as mine-and she dying of
starvation"
Wiping the hot tears from her own
eyes, Mary strove to comfort her aunt
'Will you, do you love me?" asked Mrs.
Campbell.
Mary's warm kiss upon her cheek, and
the loving clasp of her arms around her
aunt's neck, was a sufficient answer.
DO you know aught of my Aunt
Sarah?' Mary asked at last; and Mrs.
Campbell replied:
Nothing definite From father we first
heard that she was in New York, and
then Aunt Morris wrote to her ncle, max
ing inquiries concerning her. | think the
Fletchers We're rather peculiar in their
dispositions, and were probably jealous
of our family, for the letter was long un-
answered, and when at last Sarah's uncle
wrote, he said, that independent of old
Temples aid she had re ciyed good
edupo tion.' adding further that she had