“Listen to me, child. I want to give you a little advice before you leave us for your safe guidance while you are away.” “Dear mother, indeed I will listen; indeed I will follow your counsel,” said the girl simply and earnestly. “I need not tell you to read the Word of God, with prayer, morning and evening. That I am sure you will do.” “Yes, dear, I will.” “Nor need I give you any hints as to your conduct toward your employers. Your own good sense will teach you how to behave toward them. But, oh, my dear child, there are dangers that beset youth which I cannot even hint at without hurting you.” “Speak what is on your mind, dear mother; never mind hurting me,” said Em. tenderly. “No, I cannot. But I will give you one little simple rule, easy to remember and easy to follow for your safe guidance among your new companions: _Never do or say anything that you would not like your mother to see or hear._” “I never will! Indeed, dear mother, I never, never will!” earnestly replied Em. “That is right. Be guided by that rule, my child. It is the path of safety.” CHAPTER VIII Em. AT THE COMMODORE’S That lonely mansion stood upon a cliff, By a great mountain spring—just elevate’ Above the winter torrents did it stand, Upon a craggy brink; and now it wore One sober hue; the narrow cleft which wound Among the hills was gray with rocks, that peered Above its shallow soil; the mountainside Was loose with stones bestrewn, which oftentimes Clattered adown the steep, beneath the foot Of struggling goat dislodged. SOUTHEY. It was a glorious morning in October when Em., amid the kisses, tears and blessings of the whole family, left the valley of the Wilderness for her new home on the mountain. Seated by her father in the little, old-fashioned chaise, drawn by one steady, old, draught horse, and with her little trunk containing all her worldly goods strapped on behind, she commenced her journey. They could not go by the way up which Em. had watched her lover ride until man and horse disappeared in the thicket above because that was but a narrow though nearer bridle-path which led up the mountain from the rear of the manor-house and was used only by horsemen and foot passengers. They drove down the old avenue leading through the thick woods that lay between the house and the park wall to the lodge gate, where they found both ’Sias and Sereny on duty to bid a final good-by to “Miss Em.” She felt for a moment distressed that she had no parting token of regard to bestow on these attentive friends; then she quickly took the clean linen collar and cuffs from her neck and wrists and gave them to Sereney and the neatly-folded handkerchief from her pocket and bestowed it upon ’Sias.