"It isn't fair not to tell you what is the matter, dear Ellen, since I have let you see me sorrowing. It is nothing new, nor anything I would have otherwise if I could. It is only that I have had a mother once, and have lost her; and you brought back the old time so strongly, that I could not command myself."
Ellen felt a hot tear drop upon her forehead, and again ventured to speak her sympathy only by silently stroking Alice's cheek.
"It is all past now," said Alice; "it is all well. I would not have her back again. I shall go to her, I hope, by-and-by."
"Oh, no! You must stay with me," said Ellen, clasping both arms around her.
There was a long silence, during which they remained locked in each other's arms.
"Ellen, dear," said Alice, at length, "we are both motherless, for the present, at least both of us almost alone: I think God has brought us together to be a comfort to each other. We will be sisters while He permits us to be so. Don't call me Miss Alice any more. You shall be my little sister, and I will be your elder sister, and my home shall be your home as well."
Ellen's arms were drawn very close round her companion at this, but she said nothing, and her face was laid in Alice's bosom. There was another very long pause. Then Alice spoke in a livelier tone.
"Come, Ellen! look up! you and I have forgotten ourselves; it isn't good for sick people to get down in the dumps. Look up, and let me see these pale cheeks. Don't you want something to eat?"
"I don't know," said Ellen, faintly.
"What would you say to a cup of chicken-broth?"