"There is something to help you a little," said she, without looking him in the face. "You must take it as a present from old Miss Thusa, and never say a word about it to a human being. That is all I ask of you--and it is not much. Don't thank me. Don't question me. The money was mine, honestly got and righteously given. One of these days I'll tell you where it came from, but I can't now." Louis held the purse with a bewildered air, his fingers trembling with emotion. Never before had he felt all the ignominy and all the shame which he had brought upon himself. A hot, scalding tide came rushing with the cataract's speed through his veins, and spreading with burning hue over his face. "No! I cannot, I cannot!" he exclaimed, dropping the purse, and clenching his hands on his brow. "I did not mean to beg of your bounty. I am not so lost as to wrench from your aged hand, the gold that may purchase comfort and luxuries for all your remaining years. No, Miss Thusa, my reason has returned--my sense of honor, too--I were worse than a robber, to take advantage of your generous offer." "Louis--Louis Gleason," cried Miss Thusa, rising from her seat, her tall, ancestral-looking figure assuming an air of majesty and command--"listen to me; if you cast that purse from you, I will never make use of it as long as I live, which won't be long. It will do no good to a human being. What do I want of money? I had rather live in this little, old, gray hut than the palace of the Queen of England. I had rather earn my bread by this wheel, than eat the food of idleness. Your father gives me fuel in winter, and his heart is warmed by the fire that he kindles for me. It does him good. It does everybody good to befriend another. What do I want of money? To whom in the wide world should I give it, but you and Helen? I have as much and more for her. My heart is drawn powerfully towards you two children, and it will continue to draw, while there is life in its fibres or blood in its veins. Take it, I say--and in the name of your mother in heaven, go, and sin no more." "I take it," said Louis, awed into submission and humility by her prophetic solemnity, "I take it as a loan, which I will labor day and night to return. What would my father say, if he knew of this?" "He will not know it, unless you break your word," said Miss Thusa, setting her wheel in motion, and wetting her fingers in the gourd. "You may go, now, if you will not talk of something else. I must go and get some more flax. I can see all the ribs of my distaff." Louis knew that this was an excuse to escape his thanks, and giving her hand a reverent and silent pressure, he left the cabin. Heavy as lead lay the purse in his pocket--heavy as lead lay the heart in his bosom. Helen met him at the door, with a radiant countenance. "Who do you think is come, brother?" she asked. "Is it Clinton?" said he.