By Berwen Banks

"Well, to be sure," said Mrs. Power, rubbing one hand over another, her

favourite action. "Come, Gwladys, don't cry--don't be silly; as your

sister is here, she will stay with us a week or so. Can you, my dear?"

"Yes," said Valmai, whose clear mind quickly drew its own conclusions

and formed its own plans. "Yes, indeed, I hoped you would ask me to

stay a week or so; but do not think I am come to be dependent on you.

No, I am well off, but I had an intense longing to see my sister; and

having no ties or claims upon me, I made up my mind to find her out

before I settled down into some new life."

Alas, poor human nature! The few words, "I am well off," influenced

Mrs. Besborough Power at once in her reception of the friendless girl.

"Of course, my dear, stay as long as you like. Go upstairs now and

take your things off, and after dinner you shall tell us all your

story."

And arm-in-arm the two girls left the room, "like twin cherries on a

stalk." The resemblance between them was bewildering; every line of

feature, every tone of colouring was the same.

"Let us stand together before this cheval glass," said Gwladys, "and

have a good look at each other. Oh, Valmai, my beloved sister, I feel

as if I had known you all my life, and could never bear to part with

you."

And as they stood side by side before the glass, they were themselves

astonished, puzzled, and amused at the exact likeness of one to the

other. The same broad forehead, in which, at the temples, the blue

veins showed so plainly, the same depth of tenderness in the blue eyes,

the same slender neck, and the same small hands; the only difference

lay in the expression, for over Gwladys's upper lip and half-drooped

eyelids hovered a shade of pride and haughtiness which was absent from

Valmai's countenance.

"Oh, see," she said playfully, "there is a difference--that little pink

mole on my arm. Valmai, you haven't got it."

"No," said Valmai, critically examining her wrist, with rather a

dissatisfied look, "I haven't got that; but in everything else we are

just alike. How lovely you are, Gwladys."

"And you, Valmai, how sweet." And again they embraced each other.

"I have no dress to change for dinner, dear. Do you dress?"

"Oh, only just a little, and I won't at all this evening. How strange

we should both be in mourning, too! Mine is for Mrs. Power's sister.

Who are you wearing black for?"

A hot blush suffused Valmai's face and neck as she answered slowly: "I am not in mourning, but thought black would be nice to travel in. I

generally wear white."