CHAPTER IV.
ELLA CAMPBELL.
Scarcely three hours had passed since the dark, moist earth was heaped upon the humble grave of the widow and her son, when again, over the village of Chicopee floated the notes of the tolling bell, and immediately crowds of persons with seemingly eager haste, hurried towards the Campbell mansion, which was soon nearly filled.

Among the first arrivals were our acquaintances of the last chapter, who were fortunate enough to secure a position near the drawing-room, which contained the "big looking-glass." On a marble table in the same room, lay the handsome coffin, and in it slept young Ella.

Gracefully her small waxen hands were folded one over the other, while white, half-opened rose buds were wreathed among the curls of her hair, which fell over her neck and shoulders, and covered the purple spots, which the disease had left upon her flesh.
"She is too beautiful to die, and the only child too," thought more than one, as they looked first at the sleeping clay and then at the stricken mother, who, draped in deepest black, sobbed convulsively and leaned for support upon the arm of the sofa.

What now to her were wealth and station?
What did she care for the elegance which had so often excited the envy of her neighbors?
That little coffin, which had cost so many dollars and caused so much remark, contained what to her was far dearer than all.

And yet she was not one half so desolate as was the orphan Mary, who in Mrs.Bender's kitchen sat weeping over her sister Alice, and striving to form words of prayer which should reach the God of the fatherless.
But few of the villagers thought of her this afternoon.