The San Juan islander. [volume] (Friday Harbor, Wash.) 1898-1914, 1901-07-25


mother Is lying In Chicopee, and Ella.
my sister, died in England"
Every particle Of color had left Mary's
face, and her, eyes, now black "a 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 noticing
what Mrs. Campbell had said. "my moth
er was Ella Temple, and she had two
sisters, one her own, and the other .
half-sister-Sarah Fletcher and Jam
Temple both OF whom came to America
many years ago"
Tell me more-tell me all you know" "
whispered Mrs. Campbell. srasping
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. I must read that let
ter again." ~f.-.s,...
Mary obeyed. and taking out a much
soiied, blotted letter, Mrs. Campbell ask
ed her to read it aloud. 1t was as fol-
lows:
Daughter Jane-I now take this oppor-
tunity Of informing you that I've lost
your sister Ella, and have now no child
saving yourself, who, il you behave well,
will be my only heir. Sometimes l wish
you were here, f,r it's lonesome living
alone, but supp se you're better Oh
where you are. Do you know anything
of that girl Sarah? Her crossegrained
| uncle has never written me word since
he left England. II l live three years
longer | shall come to America, and un-
til that time, adieu. Your father,
"HENRY TEMPLE"
How short and coldv was Mary's 6rst
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 50 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 Ella s."-sa-,-.,-s.-----
The thought Of Ella touched new
chord, and Mrs. Campbelrs tears were
rendered less bitter by the knowledge
that she had cared for. and been mothel
to, one of her sisters orphan children.
II know now, why, from the first,
felt so drawn toward Ella, and why hez
clear, large eyes are so much like my OWL
lost darling's, and even you. Mary
Here Mrs. Campbell paused, for proud
as she now was Of Mary, there had been
time when the naughty lady turned
away from the sober, homely little child.
who begged so piteously ito 90 with
Ella" where there was room and to spare.
ALI 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"
aWiping the hot tears from her own
eyes, Mary strove to comfort her aunt
by telling how affectionately her mother
had always remembered her. "And even
| on the night Of her DEATH" said she, "she
spoke of you, and bade me, il l ever
found you, love you for her sake"
"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 sufficient answer.
"Do you know aught of my Aunt
SarahY' Mary asked at last; and Mrs.
Campbell replied: - ssr.at.
| "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 were rather peculiar in theiz
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 received a good
education;' adding further that she had
married and gone West, and that he was
intending soon to follow her. He neither
| gave the name of her husband nor the
place to which they were going, and a.
all our subsequent letters were unanswer-
ed, know not whether she is dead OF
alive; but often when think how alone
am, without relative in the world.
have prayed and wept that she might
come back. for though l never saw heE
that | remember, she was my mothers
child. and should love her for that"
Ito be continued.)