Here Ann Whitlock and Aunt Monica were both engaged in putting finishing touches on the neatly-set tea-table, where extra dainties had been placed in honor of the daughter’s return. But both the old women left off work and ran to welcome their favorite. “No, let Em. go upstairs and take off her things—_do_!” said Molly, carrying her sister off in triumph. “See now what a nice fire Ned kindled for you, Em. Isn’t it just splendid to have such a grand plenty of wood that we can make a roaring fire to warm a great room like this?” said Nelly, who had followed her sister to the attic. “_I_ brought all the cones to kindle with, _my_self,” added little Vennie, who came creeping up behind all the rest. Em. turned and kissed the little creature, and then unpacked her trunk, which her father and Ned had already brought up to her room. Assisted by busy and affectionate little helpers, Em. soon got through her task, and leaving her chamber in perfect order, and followed by a bevy of little sisters, she hurried downstairs to the sitting-room, where all the rest of the family were waiting for her. As soon as she entered tea was placed on the table, and they all sat down to it. The father of the family asked a blessing, and then they all fell to with good appetites and fine spirits. Ah, how different was the atmosphere of this lowly, loving, merry party to that proud, cold, gloomy circle she had left behind! Coming from one to the other was like passing from purgatory into Paradise. It was almost worth parting with Ronald to experience such a change. Almost! not quite, as the aching from the depths of her heart seemed to assure her. She had loved Ronald Bruce from the first hour she had met him—when he had saved her life by laying her brutal assailant stunned at her feet. She had loved him involuntarily, secretly, silently—never dreaming that her love was but the response of his own unspoken passion. Now she knew he loved her, and had loved her from their first meeting. Ronald Bruce, who had traveled all over the world, and had mixed with the best society in many countries, and who from his position and prospects might have chosen his wife from almost any class—had overlooked all others to choose _her_, Em., above all other women—to choose her, who had neither wealth, position or accomplishments—nothing but herself. And if she had loved him at first she adored him now! Oh, how she longed for all the advantages that might make her as acceptable to Ronald’s family, as, without any of them, she was to him! Even seated in the sweet circle of this pure, unselfish family affection these thoughts troubled her peace. No wonder then that in the solitude of her own attic chamber, when she had retired to rest that night, that they should destroy her repose. Em. lay wide awake all night thinking, dreaming. Now tempting thoughts came to the troubled, wakeful dreamer, “in the waste and middle of the night.”