She found that Em. had gone to bed but not to sleep. She immediately sat down beside the bed, and in answer to the girl’s eager, questioning eyes, she said: “Yes, my dear, your father has given his consent for you to go.” Em. started and threw her arms around her mother’s neck, exclaiming: “Oh, how glad I am! It was you, dear, I know it was, who got him to consent at last. But oh, dear mother, you will not think I love you any the less because I want to go to that desolate Lady of Edengarden, _will_ you, mother dear?” “Nonsense, girl, of course not! You’ll love us as much, and even more, when you get away from us than you do now. Why, law! when I was younger than you are now I was crazy to go out to service; and when I did, I found that I loved my home and my mother better than I had ever done before. I sha’n’t be jealous, Em.,” laughed Susan. “I don’t know why I should want to go, either; but that dear lady is so lonely, so desolate, my heart goes out to her, mother. Think of it, she has no family circle, no visitors, no society, no one but her colored servants!” “It is her own choice, Em.; yet I do wonder at the shyness that makes her keep herself unknown even to old Commodore Bruce, who used to know her when she was a child, and who was just as fond of her as if she had been his own. I do wonder at that!” “Mother dear,” exclaimed Em. suddenly, “don’t you remember she said Dr. Willet had been to see her?” “Oh, yes. Dr. Willet was one of her oldest and best friends, and stood by her manfully in her worst troubles. But for a long time after she disappeared not even _he_ knew what had become of her; however, I dare say she notified him afterward, although he never said anything about it, being bound over to secrecy, most likely.” “Well, but, mother dear, Dr. Willet is staying at Commodore Bruce’s, and don’t you think he will tell the old commodore, who has so long mourned Emolyn as dead, that she is really alive and within his reach?” “Oh, no, no, Dr. Willet will never do so without the lady’s consent—never!” “Oh, what a pity it is that she so secludes herself from all who would love her!” “Yes, it is, Em., a crying pity. If you should get any influence over her, Em., you must try to coax her out of all that.” “Oh, I will, I will, dear mother. I will do all in my little power for that lady. It is so strange, but she feels inexpressibly near and dear to me,” said the girl tenderly. “I am glad to hear you say so, Em. And now, my dear, as you sat up all last night with Mrs. Whitlock, you must really go to sleep. Good-night, and God bless you, my dear,” said Susan Palmer, as she kissed her daughter and left the room. The next morning, true to his promise, John Palmer authorized Em. to write a note of acceptance to the Lady of Edengarden, and to send it by the old gatekeeper in his boat. Em. joyfully obeyed, and penned the grateful missive, inquiring at its close when the lady would like that she should come.