"
She soon knew; for on opening the letter she read thus:--
SAVANNAH, September, 18--.
MY DEAR SISTER JANE:--Henry has just died. I am left here without a
dollar, and know not where to get bread for myself and two children.
I dare not tell you all I have suffered since I parted from you.
I----
My heart is too full; I cannot write. Heaven only knows what I shall
do! Forgive me, sister, for troubling you; I have not done so
before, because I did not wish to give you pain, and I only do so
now, from an impulse that I cannot resist.
ELLEN.
Jane handed the letter to her husband, and sat down in a chair, her
senses bewildered, and her heart sick.
"We have enough for Ellen, and her children, too, Jane," said
Moreland, folding the letter after he had read it. "We must send for
them at once. Poor Ellen! I fear she has suffered much."
"You are good, kind and noble-hearted, William!" exclaimed Jane,
bursting into tears.
"I don't know that I am any better than anybody else, Jane. But I
can't bear to see others suffering, and never will, if I can afford
relief. And surely, if industry brought no other reward, the power
it gives us to benefit and relieve others, is enough to make us ever
active.
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