Em. remembered Ronald’s last words whispered in her ear just as he left her seated in the gig by her father’s side. _To-morrow afternoon_, he had said. To-morrow afternoon, then, Ronald would be sure to make his appearance. He would be sure to ask her father for her, as he had declared he would. Her father liked Ronald very much, she knew; but he would never listen to his suit for her hand unless that suit came authorized by Ronald’s uncle. And so it would never come. And so her father would refuse her to Ronald, and would probably request him to refrain from visiting the house. Then Ronald would be sure to seek an interview with her, and he would press her to end all their trouble by marrying him at once. Now why—the tempter asked her—should she not take him at his word? These old people—the evil-one whispered—whose pride and stubbornness were separating Ronald and herself, were interfering with their loves beyond all reason and justice. They had no right to make two young people wretched all their lives. They could not do so, if Ronald should have his own way. And nothing obstructed _that_ but Em.’s own scruples. Ronald’s and her happiness now depended upon herself alone. Why should she not make sure of it by accepting him as her husband? A few hours’ travel would take them into Maryland, where they could be legally married, although she was not of age. Then they would instantly return to the manor-house and ask forgiveness. Her gentle father, her tender mother, would be _sure_ to forgive them on the asking. Then they would be happy. Yes; but that father and mother! Should she wound those gentle and tender hearts by an act of disobedience that would be nothing less than a cruel insult to them, receive it however charitably they might? And then her promise to Commodore Bruce, whom she loved, though he _did_ almost break her heart! Em. could come to no decision on her future course of action. Act as she might, she could not escape suffering in herself and causing suffering to others. Thus thinking and dreaming, she lay wide awake all night, and was glad when she saw the dawn of morning through the uncurtained eastern windows of her room. She arose and mended her fire, replenishing it from the box of fuel in the corner. Then she bathed and dressed, offered up her morning prayers and went downstairs. It was now sunrise, and the sunshine was filling the sitting-room, where all the family were assembled for morning worship. They greeted Em. affectionately and then seated her among them. The father opened the family Bible and read a chapter and then reverently closed it and led their devotions. After this breakfast was placed upon the table. It was while handing her daughter a cup of coffee that Susan Palmer looked in Em.’s face and exclaimed: