“Yes,” replied Em., recovering some self-possession now that the conversation was turned from her personally. “We are all there—father, mother, all my brothers and sisters, the little Italian girl, Valencia, and Mrs. Whitlock and Aunt Monica.” “Heaven and earth! Your father is a practical communist, with the unprecedented peculiarity of keeping up the commune at his own expense. So the little orphan is still with you?” “Oh, yes; but she does not feel that she is an orphan. She is one of ourselves. We all love her dearly, and do all we can to make her forget she was ever anything else. Why, do you know, she has a high little spirit of her own, and the first time she showed it by slapping Molly in the face for combin her hair roughly we were all delighted, for we said to ourselves: “‘Now we _know_ she feels quite at home.’” “Hum,” gravely commented Ronald Bruce. “Was Molly delighted, too?” Em. laughed. “No,” she answered. “It took all the house to mollify Molly; and for a long time it was in vain that we explained what a good sign that was! oh, of course, we know that it was naughty, and that very night, at prayer-time, father gave out the children’s hymn, ‘Let dogs delight to bark and bite,’ for them all to learn by heart against the next Sabbath.” “How do you like living at the Wilderness?” “Oh, so much! So very much! We have such a good time! Plenty of clean space and fresh, sweet air. Plenty of well water and cool shade. Abundance of fruit and milk and everything we need. And the forest all around the house and the mountains behind and the river before. We children have learned to ride and drive, for the many horses standing in the stables have to be exercised. And I have learned to row and to manage a sail-boat. Oh, it is so delightful! After Laundry Lane, to be here is like having died to the earth and come to heaven!” exclaimed Em., with such enthusiasm that the young man smiled ruefully and said: “And, in fact, you are so perfectly happy that you do not need even the presence of an old friend like me to add to your happiness—no, not even though he is willing to resign a glorious career and stay here for your sake. You do not want him.” “Oh, yes, indeed, indeed I do!” exclaimed Em. impulsively, and then she clapped her hands over her own lips that no more hasty words might escape them, as she turned pale at the thought of their earnestness. “That settles my destiny,” said the young lieutenant. “Oh, I must go now,” murmured the girl, rising to her feet and throwing over her head a light gossamer shawl that had been knit by her own hands. “Ah, not yet! Stay a little longer,” pleaded the young man. “Oh, _indeed_ I must go now. I have duties to do at home,” persisted Em. as she shook the white gossamer shawl down over her shoulders until it flowed around her form like a mist. “Stop! One moment! Good Heaven, what a resemblance!” exclaimed Ronald Bruce, gazing at Em. and then at the picture of the veiled lady.