"Oh, delightful!" said Ellen, starting up and clapping her hands, and then throwing them round her adopted sister's neck; "dear Alice, how good you are!" "Then I suppose I may reckon upon your consent," said Alice, "and I'll speak to Miss Fortune without delay." "Oh, thank you, dear Miss Alice; how glad I am! I shall be happy all the time from now till then thinking of it. You aren't going?" "I must." "Ah, don't go yet! Sit down again; you know you're my sister--don't you want to read mamma's letter?" "If you please, Ellen, I should like it very much." She sat down, and Ellen gave her the letter, and stood by while she read it, watching her with glistening eyes; and though as she saw Alice's fill her own overflowed again, she hung over her still to the last; going over every line this time with a new pleasure. "NEW YORK, _Saturday, Nov. 22, 18--_, "MY DEAR ELLEN,--I meant to have written to you before, but have been scarcely able to do so. I did make one or two efforts which came to nothing; I was obliged to give it up before finishing anything that could be called a letter. To-day I feel much stronger than I have at any time since your departure. "I have missed you, my dear child, very much. There is not an hour in the day, nor a half-hour, that the want of you does not come home to my heart; and I think I have missed you in my very dreams. This separation is a very hard thing to bear. But the hand that has arranged it does nothing amiss; we must trust Him, my daughter, that all will be well. I feel it _is_ well, though sometimes the thought of your dear little face is almost too much for me. I will thank God I have had such a blessing so long, and I now commit my treasure to Him. It is an unspeakable comfort to me to do this, for nothing committed to His care is ever forgotten or neglected. Oh, my daughter, never forget to pray; never slight it. It is almost my only refuge, now I have lost you, and it bears me up. How often--how often, through years gone by, when heart-sick and faint, I have fallen on my knees, and presently there have been, as it were, drops of cool water sprinkled upon my spirit's fever. Learn to love prayer, dear Ellen, and then you will have a cure for all the sorrows of life. And keep this letter, that if ever you are like to forget it, your mother's testimony may come to mind again. "My tea, that used to be so pleasant, has become a sad meal to me. I drink it mechanically and set down my cup, remembering only that the dear little hand which used to minister to my wants is near me no more. My child! my child! words are poor to express the heart's yearnings; my spirit is near you all the time.