“Nonsense, nonsense!” interrupted Mr. Oakly, hastily, “don’t you see how much disgrace and trouble you will save yourself by my arrangement?” “_Disgrace_, Alfred! and from our innocent babe!” “Hear me, if you please. You will have the double satisfaction of knowing that she will be well provided for, and kindly treated, while at the same time she can never trouble you by her agitating presence.” “And to such a woman as you have described your brother’s wife to be, would you confide so precious a trust?” said Mrs. Oakly, hoping this appeal might arrest her husband’s views. “Why not? She may be well enough for our purpose; her kindness I can secure by money. As to any refinement, or education, it will never be of much importance to Agatha. She will never be called upon, it is likely, for any display of accomplishments, poor thing—to eat, sleep, and read verses in the Bible, will fill up the measure of her days better than any thing else.” This cutting and cruel remark aroused all the mother. Rising to her feet, she said, slowly and emphatically, “Alfred Oakly! can you speak thus lightly of your own flesh and blood! Now, shame upon you! God has given us this unhappy child; she is our own to love and protect. Were she the loveliest babe that ever fond mother circled to her heart, I could not love her more. I might be proud of such an one; but _love_—oh, I could not so deeply, so tenderly!” “Well, there we differ, Mrs. Oakly; it is precisely because she is such a child that I am anxious to be rid of her,” replied the heartless father. “Understand me, my dear, I wish no harm to poor Agatha; it is for her good, I assure you, that the change should be made. What answer, then, have you to my plan?” “That I will never consent to it,” she replied, firmly. “Very well—you will not. Then it must be done without your consent. I am fixed; neither your refusal, or your tears, will avail any thing; so you may as well make up your mind to yield, madam, without further argument.” So saying, Mr. Oakly turned coolly on his heel and left the room. Now wo to the poor wife—for well did she know her husband’s unfaltering determination. If it is possible for a woman to be too amiable, Mrs. Oakly was so; while her husband, far from appreciating such a character, ruled over her like some petty despot. Her only hope now rested upon the belief that the widow could never be induced to give up one of her children for the unfortunate Agatha. “O, would she were ten times more repulsive!—my poor child!” cried the unhappy mother, “_I_ should still love her, but _she_ would shrink from an object so unsightly.” * * * * *