I put on a very serious air and followed him. "Come now," said he, kissing me, "you can't make me believe you are angry; I see your mouth twitch; I've some good news for you." In my curiosity, I threw away my reserve, and listened eagerly to his story, which I must go back a little to render intelligible. It appears that Emily's large heart was swelling with "a purpose" when she so suddenly started for Squire Lee's, on our return from visiting the humble abode of Mrs. Reynolds. Undefined, at first, she confessed it was; but a vague idea was flitting through her mind, of persuading the owner to give back Rose Cottage to its former occupants. Sometimes her hopes rose high, and then she was tempted to abandon her project. The thought of expecting "the hardened old man" (as the Squire had universally been called until his sickness,) the thought of asking such a man to give away what he valued at ten or twelve hundred dollars, merely to encourage the reformation of his inferior who had been ruined in his employment, seemed hopeless and absurd. But the image of the patient sufferer, eagerly listening to her praises of his daughter, gave her courage to proceed, and she tapped gently at the door of his room, where she was sure to find Lucy. After talking pleasantly with the old gentleman for a few moments, Lucy in obedience to a motion from Emily, retired with her to the inner apartment. There she made bold to divulge her plans and wishes, to which there was no want of attention on the part of the listener. She, however, made no reply until Emily had finished, when she took her hand, saying, "Come and tell father." From this, even the courageous Emily shrank, saying "No, Lucy, you will do the business far better." But Lucy only smiled, and pulled her forward, saying, "Tell him just as you have told me. He won't be displeased." So Emily sat down at his feet and told him all her heart. He listened with a pleased attention; and when she described the patient suffering of the gentle Anna, the beautiful children cursed with a drunken father, his breast heaved with emotion. Emily grew warm with her subject, and remembering that she was asking more than he had ever done in his life, she burst out, "Dear sir, if you should make this family happy, it would be so delightful for you to reflect upon as you sit here day after day. You would become so interested for them, and Lucy would so rejoice to hear their generous praise of their kind benefactor." He shook his head while a few tears silently coursed down his furrowed cheek. "You forget that I _made_ them miserable." "Well, then," she continued, "now you have an opportunity to turn their grief into joy, and to render them very happy;" and looking at the portrait opposite, upon which the sun was shining, "how happy she would have been to have you perform so generous an act."