"I always said you were like each other, though Phyllis could not see it. Now I am sure of it."

A wild look came into Reine's face.

"That would be too strange," she said; "for she is so like--so like--some one--Oh, Nell, she is the very image of my mother!"

"Your mother!" echoed Nell, gazing at Hetty and thinking she did not look like anybody's mother, with her short frock and flowing hair.

"But there is the dinner-bell!" she cried, glad of the interruption; for Nell had a great dislike of anything like a sentimental scene. "You must talk about all this afterwards, for we must not be late."

"I will come," said Reine, pa.s.sing her handkerchief over her face. "Do I look as if I had been crying."

"Your nose is a little red," said Nell; "but they will think it is the cold."

"Then don't say anything about this," said Reine; "but I must come and see Hetty again. Goodnight, darling little mother!"

"Reine, all my respect for you is gone," said Nell as they hastened toward the dining-room. "I thought you were as wise as Phyllis. And to think of you crying and kissing like that because Hetty reminds you of--"

"Don't, Nell," said Reine. "I can't bear any more just now."

CHAPTER XIX.

IF SHE WAS DROWNED, HOW CAN SHE BE HETTY?

A few friends had joined the Wavertree family circle that evening, and Reine had no further opportunity of speaking about Hetty. She was absent and thoughtful; but wakened up when asked to sing, and sang a thrilling little love song with such power and sweetness as went to everybody's heart. She was thinking as she sang of Hetty's face, and it was her strange yearning for Hetty's love that inspired her to sing as she did.

That night she could not sleep. Her mother's eyes, with the loving look she remembered so well, were gazing at her from all the corners of the room. Her mind went back over the recollections of her childhood; and her father's voice and her mother's smiles were with her as though she had only said good-night to both parents an hour ago. The lonely girl, who had everything that the world could offer her, except that which she longed for most, the affection of family and kindred, felt the very depths of her heart shaken by the experience of the past evening. That a girl who seemed so much a part of herself should have risen up beside her, and yet be nothing to her, seemed something too curious to be understood. Her imagination went to work upon the possibilities of Mr.

Enderby's being induced to give Hetty up to her altogether, to be her adopted sister and to live with her for evermore. She was aware that people would distrust this sudden fancy for a stranger, and that opposition would probably be offered to her plan; but then she was not her own mistress; and by perseverance she must surely succeed in the end.

Oh, the delight of having a sister! Reine had had a sister, a baby sister lost in infancy, and had often taken a sad pleasure in fancying what that sister might have been like if she had lived. She had been six years younger than Reine. Hetty was fifteen, about the age that the little sister might now have been. Reine sat up in her bed and counted the years between fifteen and twenty-one twice over on her fingers to make perfectly sure. Hetty was the very age of the little sister. And so like her mother! If the baby sister of whom she had been bereft could be still alive, then Reine would have declared she must be Hetty.

She was now in a fever of excitement. Her curly brown hair had risen in a mop of rings and ringlets around her head with tossing on her pillow, her eyes were round and bright, and a burning spot was on each of her cheeks. At last she sprang out of bed and in a minute was at Nell's bed-room door.

Nell was awakened out of a sound sleep by the opening of her door.

"Don't be frightened, Nell; I'm not a burglar--only Reine."

"What's the matter?" said Nell, rubbing her eyes. "Have you got the toothache?"

"I never had toothache. I want to know something."

"I often want to know things," said Nell, now sitting bolt upright in her little bed; "I'm sometimes _dying_ of curiosity. But it never routed me out of my sleep in the middle of the night."

"It's about Hetty," said Reine, sitting on the floor in a faint streak of moonlight, and looking like a spirit--if spirits have curly hair.

"You've gone Hetty-mad!" said Nell; "wouldn't Hetty keep till morning?

We're not going to transport her or lock her up. You will have all next week to sit looking at her."

"Where did you get her?" asked Reine. "I know she is a foundling; but she must have had a beginning somewhere."

"Of course she had; and a most peculiar one. She was found on the Long Sands. That is a place three miles from Wavertree on the sea-sh.o.r.e, where wrecks often come in. John Kane, one of the carters, found her, and Mrs. Kane took her home. Then Aunt Amy, who is dead, fancied her and adopted her. When Aunt Amy died she was left unprovided for, and papa brought her here; and here she is."

"Found on the sh.o.r.e where wrecks come in! And she is just fifteen. Oh, Nell, are you sure you are telling the truth?"

There was a sound in Reine's voice that startled Nell.

"The plain truth. Every village child knows it. What has it got to do with you?"

"I don't know. I don't know. I am afraid to think. Why, Nell, listen to me. When I was a child of seven years old, my mother and father took me to France. They had inherited a property there and were going to take possession of it. They were fond of the sea, and they long travelled by sea. While still near this coast the vessel was overtaken by storm and wrecked. My father, mother, and myself were saved. But my little baby sister was washed out of my mother's arms and drowned."

"Well?"

"Well!"

"If she was drowned how can she be Hetty, if that is what you mean?"

"They thought she was drowned. We were taken into another vessel and carried on to France."

"And never asked any more questions about the baby?"

"I don't know. My father and mother are both dead," said Reine pathetically; "I am sure they did all they could. But I know they thought they saw her drowned before their eyes."

"And I suppose they did. Reine, stop walking about the floor like Crazy Jane, in your bare feet, and either come into my bed or go back to your own."

"I am going," said Reine; "please forgive me, Nell, for spoiling your sleep."

"Don't mention it. We can talk all the rest in the morning. If you are allowed to go on any more now, you will be mad to-morrow, and, what is worse, you will have a cold in your head."

Nell curled herself up in her pillows again, and was soon fast asleep.

But Reine could not sleep; and came down to breakfast next morning looking as pale as a ghost.

After Mr. Enderby had gone to his study Nell began:

"Mamma, do you know Reine has got a bee in her bonnet!"

"My dear, where did you get such an expression?"

"Never mind. It is quite accurate. She believes that Hetty is her sister who was drowned when she was a baby."

Mrs. Enderby looked at Reine with a face of extreme surprise.

"Nell talks so much nonsense," she said, "that I scarcely know what to think of her speeches sometimes." And then seeing Reine's eyes full of tears, she added kindly:

"Dear child, is there any grain of truth in what this wild little scatter-brain has said?"