In about half an hour, Susan was seen supporting the feeble steps of her mother on one side, and on the other those of her father, down the village street, to her own dear home. George Wells had disappeared; and the other neighbours did not intrude upon the sacred joy of that family party. "Oh, mother, did we ever expect to be so happy!" exclaimed Susan, as they entered the little garden: "And there is my own moss-rose blowing!"--a slight pang shot through her, for George had given her the tree: but she was too happy, too grateful, to allow any but feelings of thankfulness to find a place in her heart. With what eagerness did Susan hasten to busy herself about the household duties! with what pleasure did she resume her former privilege of settling her father in his seat, of preparing the supper, of assisting her father up stairs! She had thought the first sight of the heavens glorious, she had gazed with rapture on the face of Nature, she had recognised with tenderness each well-known spot of her youthful home; but all these had been but lesser joys in comparison with that of once more ministering to the comfort of her parents, after having so long been a burthen to them. Never were prayers of more heart-felt gratitude offered up to the throne of Grace than those of the Foster family that night. Early the next morning, Susan repaired to Overhurst Park, to make her acknowledgments to her benefactors; and as she walked alone through those paths where she had so often wandered with George, which she had never beheld since she had seen them with him, did not the memory of former days come over her with almost over-whelming power? She thought of him certainly, but she thought of him as the contented husband of another; and after having drunk so deeply of the bitter cup of affliction, her present comparative happiness seemed as great as mortals might dare to hope for in this world. She looked with kindly feelings on all around her. There was no touch of bitterness in her emotions. Farmer Otley was one of the first to welcome Susan home again. He told her his wife was still very poorly, "and that she would take it very kind" if Susan would step up and pay her a visit some evening at Holmy-bank. "Well, Susan," he said, "I need not be fetching you any more worsted from Turnholme now. You won't send me to market any more. Those eyes of yours can see to take up your old trade again. I dare say my mistress will have some needle-work for you, for she is a rare bad hand at plain-work herself." A few days after Susan's return, she was employed in tying up some straggling flowers, and in winding the honeysuckle round the porch, enjoying the long untasted pleasure of attending to her little garden, when, on looking round, she saw George Wells loitering under the hedge of the field which we have often described as being opposite Master Foster's house.