With the summer came the discussion of passing the heated term at the White Mountains. Albert declared that Clara was looking a little fatigued, and the change would give her tone and color. She received this evidence of anxiety about her health with great pleasure. The prospect of several weeks, in a delightful country, alone with Albert, was in itself sufficient to bring color to her cheeks, and to reawaken her fondest hopes. Mr. Delano, with Charlotte and Ella, were to spend the summer as usual at Newport; but it happened that just before Miss Charlotte announced to her father that her preparations were completed, Ella decided to wait and join Clara and Albert in their trip to the White Mountains. Miss Delano expressed unqualified surprise. “I don’t know why you should be surprised. Am I not old enough to choose for myself?” “You are _old_ enough to be discreet,” said Miss Delano, severely; “but, I can assure you, you are not.” “I know. It is always indiscreet to do what you wish to.” “No, Miss Wills; it is indiscreet to wish to do what good sense condemns.” “I’m sure I cannot see that good sense condemns my wish to go to the White Mountains with Clara and Albert.” “You mean with Albert and Clara. I would ask you if you have been invited by Albert’s wife?” Ella winced. She saw but one escape, and that was through a falsehood. “Certainly I have,” she said, with effrontery. “What is this?” asked Mr. Delano, slow, like most men, to understand the disputes of women. Miss Delano having the issue clearly thrust upon her, explained very succinctly. “My dear Ella,” said the mild old gentleman, mildly, and as if a sudden thought had struck him, “you know you were an old flame of Albert’s, and you know he is a very hot-headed fellow. I think you _are_ playing with the fire.” The very mildness of the old gentleman was like tinder to flames, in its effect. Ella answered insolently, and flirted out of the room. Under such circumstances, she thought the best way to convince Mr. Delano and his daughter that they had wronged her, was to show them that they had made her ill. She stayed in her room two whole days, and by great effort, refusing all food during that time, she succeeded pretty well. During the second day she wrote the following letter to Albert: “DEAREST FRIEND:—I am ill and suffering. It is useless to struggle against fate. No one cares for Ella but you—no one understands her—and they would have me think it wicked to see you. What does it matter that we know our love is pure? They will not believe it. Let us submit to fate, dear, dearest Albert. We had better not meet again, since we cannot be understood. Though it breaks my heart to say it, _farewell forever_! “Your unhappy “ELLA.”