She fancied that Ellen might be herself deceived, and that the object of her affections once known, all difficulties would be smoothed.

The idea that her last act might be to secure the happiness of Ellen, was so soothing to her grateful and affectionate feelings, that, after dwelling on it some time, she took the first opportunity of being alone with her friend to seek her confidence.
"No, dearest, do not read to me," she said, one evening, in answer to Ellen's question.

"I would rather talk with you; do not look anxious, I will not fatigue myself.

Come, and sit by me, dear Ellen, it is of you that I would speak." "Of me ?" repeated Ellen, surprised.

"Nay, dearest Mary, can you not find a more interesting subject ?" "No, love, for you are often in my thoughts; the approach of death has, I think, sharpened every faculty, for I see and read trifles clearer than I ever did before; and I can read through all that calm control and constant smile that you are not happy, my kind Ellen; and will you think me a rude intruder on your thoughts if I ask you why ?" "Do you not remember, Mary, I was ever unlike others ?" replied Ellen, shrinking from her penetrating gaze.