'I do not,' she replied faintly. Hiram intended to frighten her, and he had succeeded. 'You do not! Well, it is the man who fails to provide for his own household. Why, we had the text in our Sunday-school lesson only three weeks ago.' Emma sat paralyzed. 'Now, Emma,' continued Hiram, 'I want you to see your mother, and tell her what I say. Tell her your father is determined to ruin the whole of you--going to give up this very house--just think of that.' 'Papa has already told us so,' said Emma in a low, timid tone; 'but he says it is the only honorable course.' 'Honorable!' exclaimed Hiram, pettishly. 'Stuff--nonsense. I tell you that you are all crazy. You don't think what you are about. Wait till you are turned out of doors, bag and baggage, then see how you will feel--but then it will be too late. Do you understand?' Emma Tenant was not a brilliant girl, but she had good sense and an honest nature. By degrees she recovered from the stupor into which Hiram's onslaught threw her; she began to feel something of her lover's purpose, and appreciate something of the position he might soon assume. Loving and trustful, these faint glimmerings of the truth appalled her. She did not cry any more. She became pale. She breathed short and quick. 'Hiram,' she gasped, 'you mean something--I fear you mean something. Papa knows best what is honest, better than you--a young man. To lose our property would make me unhappy. And I thought--yes, I conceived--oh, Hiram--tell me--_am_ I going to lose you?' she cried, interrupting herself. 'If it be so, say it--say it now. Do not keep me in suspense.' 'Why, Emma, how nervous you are! Ah, here comes your father. I see you are waiting for me. I am quite ready, sir.' 'Good. Emma, can you spare him for one evening? You will soon have him all to yourself--eh?' and, with a pleasant tap on her cheek, Mr. Tenant turned and left the room. Hiram followed without saying a word. Emma sat by herself an hour--at least an hour. The servant came in to light the gas, but she would not permit it. I won't attempt to describe her thoughts. At length she rose, and took her way to her mother's room. She told her just what had passed. Mrs. Tenant was a superior woman. Her experience taught her, despite her good opinion of Hiram, for he had spared no pains to present himself favorably, that he might prove to be merely mercenary. Yet, after all, she did not think it probable. She said all she consistently could say to soothe her child, without absolutely declaring that she believed her fears to be groundless. _That_ she dared not utter. She finished by a very common and rational argument, which, by the way, has very little comfort in it: 'I know, my darling, that you love him, but you cannot love a mean, low-spirited creature; and if he prove to be such, let us be thankful for your escape.'