Almost in a fainting state was Agatha given to her mother’s arms, and at sight of her father she shuddered and buried her face in her hands. O the pang that went to the soul of her wretched father as he witnessed this! “Agatha, my _child_, will you not then look upon me! will you not say you forgive me?” She extended her hand wet with tears: “Father, I have nothing to pardon. I am not now less hideous in form than when to look upon me caused you shame and sorrow. In giving me to my dearest aunt you gave me every blessing, every happiness, this world has for me—but do not, O do not now tear me from!” “O God! I am rightly punished!” exclaimed Mr. Oakly—“my own child in turn disowns me!” “Agatha,” said Mrs. Oakly, “will you not love _me_—love your mother, Agatha?” Agatha hesitated, and her beautiful eyes streamed with tears— “_Mother!_ I can give that name to but _one_!—_here—here_ is my _mother_!” turning and throwing her arms around the neck of Mrs. Sullivan. Not so was it with Louisa. Like a dove long panting for its rest, she had at last reached that haven of love—a mother’s heart! Indeed so much distress did the thought of being separated from her more than mother cause poor Agatha, that, fearful for her health, Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan prevailed upon her parents to take up their residence with them for a few months, to which request they finally acceded. Soon after her first interview with Mr. Oakly, Mrs. Sullivan presented him with a deed of the cottage, which so many years before he had given her, little dreaming that any reverse of fortune would ever make _him_ grateful for so humble a shelter! “The rent,” said she, “has been regularly paid into the hands of a faithful person, who also holds in trust the remittances which you from time to time forwarded me. I placed them there for the benefit of Agatha, should she survive me. It came from you originally—it is again your own—then hesitate not to receive it from my hands.” “Excellent, noble woman!” exclaimed Mr. Oakly, overwhelmed with emotion, “how little have I merited this kindness!” Indeed, together with principal and interest, what at first was but a trifling sum, had in the course of eighteen or twenty years amounted to quite a little fortune. It was now settled that as soon as the Spring opened Mr. and Mrs. Oakly were to take possession of the little cottage, and rather than be separated from their dear Agatha, the Sullivans were soon to follow and take lodgings for the summer months. * * * * * “But, my dear madam,” says the reader, “you have entirely forgotten to tell us what became of the unfortunate artist, the lover of Louisa, whom you appear to think happy enough in her present situation _without_ a lover.”