In this room Em. and her patroness sat in the evening after the departure of Susan Palmer. Pony came in to light the lamps. “No, don’t do that yet awhile. We will sit in the firelight,” said Mrs. Lynn. “It _is_ cozy like, too,” Pony admitted as she retired. “Draw your chair up to the fire, Em., put your feet on the fender; and now, love, tell me who is this wealthy lover of yours of whom your mother spoke?” softly inquired Mrs. Lynn when they were left alone in the ruddy glow of the smoldering red hickory fire. “He is Lieutenant Ronald Bruce, the nephew and heir of Commodore Bruce, of The Breezes,” answered Em. in a low and tremulous tone, feeling well pleased that her face was but dimly visible in the glowing gloom of the firelight. “‘Bruce!’ That name again,” murmured the lady thoughtfully. Then, after a meditative pause, she said: “My dear girl, if you feel that you can confide in me, tell me all about it.” Thus appealed to, Em. would have told her little love story to her friend, cost what it might to her own feelings. It was not hard for her to tell it there. She drew her low chair closer to the lady’s side, and with her head on the lady’s lap she related the circumstances of her first meeting with Ronald Bruce, when he had saved her from falling under the uplifted club of an intoxicated and infuriated ruffian. How their acquaintance progressed. How he had been her disinterested friend, and had tried to improve her condition even before he had declared himself to be her lover. How he had procured her first the offer of a situation of nursery governess in his sister’s family, which she had refused for her father’s sake. How afterwards, when her family had come to Virginia, he had managed so that his mother had offered her a situation as seamstress at The Breezes. How Commodore Bruce had taken a fancy to her himself, and when she was capriciously discharged from his sister-in-law’s service had engaged her as his reader, which post she had filled to his satisfaction until his nephew, Lieutenant Ronald Bruce, had confessed his attachment to her and announced his intention of marriage. “That was noble and upright in the young man. What followed?” inquired Mrs. Lynn as Em. faltered and paused in her narrative. “Commodore Bruce summoned his nephew to his presence and threatened to disinherit him unless he gave me up.” “What next, my dear? Speak on. Speak low if you like, but do not be afraid. What did the young man say or do?” “Ronald declined to give me up, and accepted disinheritance as a consequence.” “That was right. And then? What then? Compose yourself, my child, and speak on.” “Then,” continued Em. in a low and faltering voice that seemed as if it would break down at every syllable—“then Commodore Bruce sent for me and told me all that he had told _him_—Ronald—and threw himself on what he was so polite as to call _my_ honor, and asked me to reject Ronald for Ronald’s own sake.” “And you, darling, _you_, what did you do?”