"But father," she said, in softer voice, as Adam stood speechless with rage; "Father, forgive me for this, for I know that I am right. Let me stay here and prove that I am not useless to the world, and then perhaps I will go to you. In the meantime, keep my secret and no one shall know that your claim on society has teen lessened because your daughter is learning to do a woman's work." Just a shade of bitter sarcasm crept into her voice, but Adam did not notice, for he saw the agent and the farmer coming. "Very well," he said hurriedly, "you have chosen your path and must walk in it. But you cannot expect me to acknowledge a servant as my daughter." And turning his back, he went to meet the men, while Amy slipped off to the house with her blossoms. Mrs. Barton needed no word to tell her of the result of the interview from which she had expected so much, and with a kiss and a loving word, permitted the girl to go upstairs, where she remained until Mr. Goodrich had left the place. After completing the purchase of the farm, Adam wrote his daughter from the office of the agent in Zanesville: "The place where you are living now belongs to me, and the Bartons must give possession at once. If you will promise never to speak to that man Falkner again, you may come home and be received into your old place, but on no other terms will I acknowledge you as my daughter. Refuse and you are thrown on the charity of the world, for you cannot remain where you are." Amy carried the letter to her friends, together with her reply, and they, by every argument of love, tried to induce her to go with them back to Cleveland; but she refused in tears. And when she would not be persuaded, they were compelled to leave her. With many expressions of love, they said good-bye, and departed for their old home in the eastern city; but before going, they arranged with a kind neighbor to give her a place in their already crowded home until she could find means of support. Upon Dick's return from his Cleveland trip, he had thrown himself into his work with feverish energy, while in his heart the struggle between love and prejudice continued. But as the weeks went by and Amy's letters had come, telling of her life on the farm, and how she was learning to be of use in the world; and as he had read between the lines, of her new ideas and changed views of life, his love had grown stronger and had almost won the fight. Then a letter came, bidding him good-bye, and telling him that she was going away again, and that for her sake, he must not try to find her; that she was deeply grateful for all that he had done, but it was best that he forget that he had ever known her. Dick was hurt and dismayed. It seemed to him that she had given up, and the devil, Doubt, ever ready to place a wrong construction upon the words and deeds of mortals, sent him into the black depths of despair again.