'Well, well, Chris,' she said, 'I have my plans; let me go my way.' I was content that she should, having settled in my mind that her way was my way, and that her way was right. I had my plans also, which I did not disclose to Jessie. I was improving my position rapidly, and I knew that the day was not far distant when I should be able to support a home by my own labour--nay, I was at the present time almost in a position to do so. But there were things to be seen to and provided for--furniture and that like; and I was saving money for them secretly. I looked forward with eagerness to the accomplishment of my scheme, and I worked hard to hasten its ripening. The sweet pictures of home-happiness which I conjured up were sufficient incentives--pictures from which neither Jessie nor my mother was ever absent. 'Then,' I thought, 'Jessie will not be a dependent upon one who is filled with unkind and uncharitable feelings towards her.' It was on my tongue a dozen times to tell Jessie how I was progressing in my scheme, but I restrained myself. 'No,' I said, 'I will not say anything to her about it until I am quite ready. Then I will speak openly to her. She knows that I love her, and that I am working for her.' But I could not keep my plans entirely to myself. I unfolded them to my mother, who sat silent for a little while after I had finished. Then she said: 'Have you not forgotten something, my dear?' 'No, mother, not that I know of.' 'Or some one, I should rather say--your uncle Bryan.' I returned a disingenuous answer. Uncle Bryan would never leave his shop. What would he find to do in a place where there were no customers to serve, and no business to look after?' (I added mentally, and where he was not master and tyrant?') 'Chris, my dear child,' said my mother humbly and imploringly, 'do not hide your heart from me!' 'Mother!' I cried, shocked at myself. 'Dear child, forgive me! It was forgetfulness on your part, I know, and unkind of me to put such a construction upon it. My boy could not be ungrateful. He knows how I love him, how proud I am of him. How well I remember his promise to me one night--in the old times, my darling, when I used to take in needlework for a living--that he would try to grow into a good man; and how grateful I am to the Lord to see him after all these years a good and clever man, the best, the dearest son that mother was ever blessed with!'