Mr. Wallace stayed that night at Colonel Melville's. We had the next morning just assembled around the breakfast-table, when there was a ring at the door-bell, so loud and so hurried, that, surprised and startled, each one turned towards the door to watch for the entrance of the ringer. The servant had probably been as much startled as we, for she moved with unusual quickness, and scarce a minute passed from the ring to the entrance into the breakfast parlor of Ellen Leslie, flushed, breathless, and evidently agitated. Without speaking to, almost without looking at any one else, she walked up to Mr. Wallace, and holding out her hand, said, "I have come to tell you, sir, that I will go with you."

"I am very glad to hear it, my dear; but sit down, get your breath, and then we will talk about it."

"I don't want to talk about it," said Ellen, in an impatient tone; "I want to go. How soon can we go, sir?"

"This afternoon at five o'clock, if you can be ready so soon."

"I am ready now," Ellen began, but Mrs. Melville, who had risen from the table on her coming in, now approached her, and taking off her bonnet, insisted that she should sit down, and take some breakfast before she said any thing more about going. Ellen looked at the breakfast-table, and seemed to find some attraction in it, for she drew nearer to it, then suddenly turning to Mrs. Melville, said, "But Mary does not know. I must go and tell Mary."

"I will send for Mary. Anna, go over to Mrs. Maclean's, and tell Mary she must come and take her breakfast with us."

"Thank you, Mrs. Melville," said Ellen; "I am sure I am much obliged to you, for Mrs. Maclean would not give me any breakfast this morning, and poor Mary felt so badly about it, that I dare say she has not eaten any."

In a moment, I saw the whole reason of Ellen's unexpected resolve, of her hurry and agitation. She had doubtless refused to go down to breakfast—Mrs. Maclean had refused to let her breakfast go up to her—angry words had probably ensued—Ellen had declared she would go away—Mrs. Maclean, instead of expressing sorrow or apprehension at such a threat, had hoped she would, and Ellen, too proud to retract, too wilful to hesitate, had started off at once; and thus, the decision about which she had been advised to think so carefully and prayerfully, was made in a fit of anger, and carried through for the gratification of proud and resentful feeling.

Anna Melville was gone a longer time than was usually found necessary for a message to Mrs. Maclean's. Mary returned with her, and her eyes showed that her tears had been just hastily wiped away as she entered the parlor. Neither of the sisters ate much breakfast, for Ellen was still too angry and Mary too sorrowful to feel hungry. Mrs. Melville placed Mary by her at table—Ellen was at the other end—and was careful that nothing should be said in relation to Ellen's departure till breakfast was over. She then took Mary's hand, and leading her into the next room, closed the door after her. They were gone almost an hour, and when they came back, though Mary's eyes were red and swollen, her countenance was much more composed. Ellen looked anxiously at her as she entered, and going up to her, took her hand and said, "Are you sorry I am going, Mary?"

"I am sorry and glad too, Ellen," said Mary, pressing her lips to her sister's forehead; "sorry to part with you, but glad, very glad that you are going to such a good, kind aunt as Mrs. Melville says our Aunt Herbert is."

"I do not care so much about that, for I am sure she cannot be more good and kind than you are, Mary," and Ellen passed her arm around her sister's waist, and laid her head affectionately on her shoulder; "but I am very glad that I shall not have to go back to that hateful Mrs. Maclean."

"Hush—hush, Ellen. Mrs. Maclean is quick in her temper, but she has been often very kind to us, and you should not call her hateful."

"She may be very kind to you," said Ellen, "I do not know any thing about that; but I do not call it kindness to tell me that she would rather go without her meals than eat them with me, and then to refuse to give me my breakfast. I told her I would never darken her door again, and I never will. I will not go back even to pack my trunk or get my things."

Mary looked as if she were about to remonstrate with her sister, but Mrs. Melville interposed, saying, "It will not be at all necessary, Ellen, that you should; I will go over with Mary and assist her in packing your trunk, and get such things as may be necessary for you on your journey, of which I shall be a better judge than either of you, as I am an older traveller. In the mean time, you had better go around and say good-by to some of your old friends in H. Anna will go with you."

While Mrs. Melville was speaking, Colonel Melville and Mr. Wallace, who had walked out together after breakfast, entered.

"Well, my little fellow-traveller," said Mr. Wallace cheerfully, "will you be ready at five o'clock?"

"Yes, sir," said Ellen; then after hesitating a moment she added, "You say, sir, that if I want to come back to Mary I can."

"Yes, my dear, if you want to come back after you have been six months with your Aunt. In a shorter time than that you could form no judgment of what your life there would be; but if then you wish to return, I am sure that nothing will be done to detain you."

"There, Mary, you hear that," said Ellen with great animation; "by that time Uncle Villars will have come back, and then you can leave that"—Ellen looked as if she wanted to say hateful again—"Mrs. Maclean, and we will all, I dare say, live together just as we used to do."

"Mrs. Merrill and all," said Colonel Melville slyly, for he had heard from Mr. Villars something of Ellen's disagreements with Mrs. Merrill.

Ellen colored very much, but after a minute's hesitation, she said, "Well, even Mrs. Merrill was not so bad as Mrs. Maclean."

Our party now separated; Mary and Mrs. Melville went to Mrs. Maclean's, and Ellen and Anna set out to make their visits. Three o'clock brought us all together again for dinner. The flush had now faded from Ellen's cheeks, and it was easy to see that being no longer sustained by anger or resentment, her heart had begun to fail her at the thought of the approaching separation from her sister. But there was now no time for the indulgence of feeling. Immediately after dinner Ellen's baggage was brought over; then she had to change her dress for that in which she was to travel—then to have all the arrangements which Mrs. Melville and Mary had made of those things that would be necessary to her comfort on the journey explained to her; and before this was completed the carriage was at the door, and her adieus must be made. Ellen started as she heard this announcement, and flung herself into Mary's arms, exclaiming amidst sobs and tears, "Oh Mary, if you could only go with me! if you could only go with me, Mary!"

Mary said not a word, but she folded Ellen closely to her heart, as if to part with her were impossible, and wept over her as if that heart were breaking. Anna and Emma Melville sobbed from sympathy, and the rest of us stood around, silent and tearful spectators of the scene.

"My dear children," said Mr. Wallace at last, "you are needlessly distressing yourselves; remember it is but a visit Ellen is going on. She shall come back, I again promise you, in six months, if she desire to do so."

"And Mary," said Colonel Melville, going up to her and taking her hand, "it will not do to keep Mr. Wallace waiting. For Ellen's sake, my dear girl, control yourself."

Mary unclasped her arms from her sister, and as Mr. Wallace approached to lead Ellen away she looked imploringly in his face, and exclaimed in the most earnest tones, "Oh! be good to her, sir, be very good to her."

"I will, my dear child, I will," was all that the kind old gentleman could say.

A silent kiss to Ellen from each of the party, and Mr. Wallace led her out to the carriage. The next moment the sound of wheels told that they were off. Mary had stood listening for that sound. As it fell upon her ear she turned from us into an adjoining room, and her quick, heavy sobs reached us where we stood, showing that she had gone there to weep alone. We left her undisturbed for some minutes, and then Mrs. Melville went in and talked soothingly and cheeringly to her. Mary had learned early to control her feelings for the sake of others, and she soon came out with Mrs. Melville, looking and speaking calmly, though often, in the course of the evening, I saw a tear steal down her cheek without her seeming to notice it. Just before night, Mary rose and took her bonnet to return home. "Stay, Mary," said Mrs. Melville, "you are not going to leave us so soon. I will send over to let Mrs. Maclean know that you will not return to-night, and the messenger can bring any thing you may want."

And so Mary stayed that night, and the next day, and a week; and still, as she talked of going home, new reasons were found for delay. Her obliging temper and gentle manners rendered her so pleasing an inmate, that all found it painful to part with her; and at last it was arranged that she should remain at Colonel Melville's till Mr. Villars returned, continuing there to employ herself with her needle or pencil, and giving lessons in music, as she had hitherto done, to a few pupils. Leaving her to be loved and cherished by this kind family, we will follow Ellen to her new home.