She it was who had befriended her when a lonely, neglected orphan, taking her from the alms-house, and giving her a pleasant, happy home.

She it was, too, who in sickness and health had cared for her with all a mother's love, and Mary would not leave her now.

So when Mrs.Campbell began to make plans for the future, each one of which had a direct reference to herself, she modestly said she should never desert Mrs.Mason, stating her reasons with so much delicacy, and yet so firmly, that Mrs.
Campbell was compelled to acknowledge she was right, while at the same time she secretly wondered whether Ella for _her_ sake would refuse a more elegant home were it offered her.
All that afternoon the contrast between the two girls grew upon her so painfully, that she would almost gladly have exchanged her selfish, spoilt Ella, for the once despised and neglected orphan; and when at evening Mary came to say "Good night," she embraced her with a fervency which seemed to say she could not give her up.
Scarcely had the door closed upon Mary, ere there was a violent bell ring, and Henry Lincoln was ushered into the parlor, where Ella, radiant with smiles, sat awaiting him.

They were invited that evening to a little sociable, and Ella had bestowed more than usual time and attention upon her toilet, for Henry was very observant of ladies' dresses, and now that "he had a right," was constantly dictating, as to what she should wear, and what she should not.

On this evening every thing seemed fated to go wrong.