“Good-by, dear lady. I feel that you will be happy some of these days. Unhappiness cannot last forever in any one experience. There must be change. ‘Sich is life,’” said John, as he shook hands with his gracious hostess. Em. approached also to take leave; but the lady drew the girl to her bosom and kissed her fondly, saying: “You must persuade your parents to let you come to me, my darling. Strange how near you feel to me; but perhaps that is my own egotism because you bear my name and some striking resemblance to me.” “I shall be sure to come back to you, dear lady. I never broke a promise in my life, and I promise to come back to you,” whispered Em. “I shall rest on that promise. Now go; your parents are waiting for you,” said Emolyn, as she pressed a kiss upon the girl’s brow and so dismissed her. Em. followed her father and mother as they left the house, John carrying the hamper of wine. “I don’t see why you could not have given Miss Emolyn her answer about Em. at once. You needn’t have put on airs with that lady, John, talking about taking time for reflection and all that—when you know very well that you intend to let her go,” said Susan, as the three walked rapidly toward the boat. “Indeed, then, Susan, I am not sure that I shall let her go at all!” said John very gravely. “_Oh, father!_” exclaimed Em. in a voice of despair. “I think is most likely I shall do so, though, my dear. So don’t be troubled. I think I shall let you go; but there is nothing certain in this world; and I must have some conversation with your mother first.” They walked so rapidly that they soon reached the landing. John Palmer hastened to place his wife and daughter in their seats and then to unmoor the boat and push it from the shore. Em. took the tiller and steered for the Wilderness landing. John laid himself vigorously to both oars, and they sped swiftly on their way home. Susan talked incessantly on the way up the river, and the burden of her conversation was “Miss Emolyn Wyndeworth” and her strange and tragic story. “The people about here call her Mrs. Lynn! That’s _their_ mistake, not Miss Emolyn’s doings. But I always _did_ call her Miss Emolyn, and I suppose I shall to the end of my days,” she said, among countless other observations. John said but little in response and Em. nothing. She was absorbed in her own reflections. The sun was low when they reached the Wilderness landing. “It has taken us the whole day, after all; but Lord knows, we needn’t regret it, after what we have seen,” said John Palmer, as he drew in his oars, laid one down in the bottom of the boat, and using the other as a pole, pushed it up on the sands. “No, indeed, we needn’t regret our visit if only we find our poor, old, sick woman hasn’t suffered through our going,” added Susan, as she climbed upon the shore, followed by Em.