"Pray, do not give me any praise for my courage, papa; I am quite sure, if it had not been for mamma's suggestion, I never could have done it. It might have crossed my mind, but I fear pride would not have permitted me to listen to it; but when mamma put the case before me as she did, I could not prevent my conscience from feeling the truth of all she said, and if I had not followed her advice, I should have been more miserable still. Dearest mother," he continued, as he turned with even more than his usual affection to receive her nightly embrace, "you have made me so happy! how can I thank you?" If she made him happy, he certainly had returned the blessing, for Mrs. Hamilton had seldom felt more exquisite pleasure than she did at that moment; and her little Emmeline, though she could not quite understand all her mother's feelings, felt, in her way, almost as glad. "Well, Mrs. Hamilton will not your son's words confirm mine?" said Mr. Grahame trying to speak cheerfully, when the young party had retired, and he was again alone with his friends. "Can he go far wrong with such a friend?" "Indeed, he has done me more than justice, and himself not enough. When I left him, I had scarcely a hope that my very disagreeable advice would be followed; besides, Mr. Grahame," she added, more playfully, "it was not from disagreeing with you on a mother's influence that my look reproached you, you know well enough what it meant; and I still say, that even now, if you would but be less reserved and stern, would but see Helen's many better qualities, as clearly as you do her faults, you might still win her to your will even with regard to your children." "Not now, Mrs. Hamilton, it is too late; but you have no idea how your look transported me back to years past," he added, evidently resolved to change the subject, "when I actually almost feared to approach you. Do you remember, Hamilton, when I told you, if Miss Manvers had a fault, she was too cold?" "I shall not easily forget the incidents of that night," replied Mr. Hamilton, with a fond glance toward his wife. "Poor Eleanor, when her conduct that evening fell under my lash, I little thought her orphan children would be living under my roof, and to me almost like my own." "And one her very image," observed Grahame. "Does either resemble her in mind or disposition?" "Edward almost as much in mind as in personal beauty," replied Mrs. Hamilton; "But not in all points of his disposition. Ellen does not resemble her poor mother in any thing." "Is she like her father?" "I did not know him sufficiently to judge, but I fancy not.--In fact, I hardly yet understand Ellen." "Indeed!" answered Grahame, smiling; "is your penetrative genius here at fault?" "I fear it is," she answered, in the same tone; "Ellen is my youngest child--and that which has been my successful help five times, has become blunted at the sixth, and refuses to aid me further."