'And why will he not?' replied Emma. 'I am sure he likes you already, and when he knows'-- She stopped, and blushed deeper than ever. 'When he knows,' said Hiram, taking up the sentence, 'he will hate me: I am sure he will.' 'How can you say so?' replied the confiding girl. 'I am his only child, and he will approve of anything which is for my happiness.' 'But he may not think an engagement with me (you see Hiram was determined on the engagement) will be for your happiness. I am not known here--am not yet in business for myself, although so far as that is concerned'-- 'Don't speak so--it pains me; as if I could think of such things _now_,' she whispered, as if really in bodily distress. 'But it _must_ be mentioned, and at once; we must tell your parents. It would be highly improper not to do so.' He meant to make all sure. 'Oh, well, I suppose you are right, but it will make no difference to papa if you had not a penny. I have heard him say so a thousand times.' 'Have you,' replied Hiram, drawing a long breath, 'have you really?' 'Indeed I have. He has always said he would prefer to see me marry a high-minded, honorable young man, of strict integrity, without a cent in the world, to the richest man living, if he were sordid and calculating. Oh, he despises such persons. Now are you satisfied?' Hiram _was_ satisfied, that is, logically; but somehow he _felt_ a hit, and in spite of himself his countenance was clouded, and he was silent. 'I have said something to wound you. I know I have,' exclaimed Emma. 'To wound me! My angel, my'--etc., etc., etc. (the pen refuses to do its office when I come to record Hiram's love expressions). 'How can you think so at this moment of my greatest rapture, my most complete'--etc., etc., etc. (pen fails again). 'It was my intense joy and satisfaction to learn how noble and disinterested your father is, that rendered me for the moment speechless.' After considerable discussion, it was arranged that Emma should be the one to communicate to her parents the interesting fact that Hiram sought her hand. On this occasion his courage so far failed him that he preferred not to break the subject himself, although generally so very capable and adroit in personal interviews. Mr. Tenant, as usual with papas, was a good deal surprised. He had not thought of Emma's marrying--considered her still little else than a school girl, and so on--well--he supposed it must come sooner or later. He knew very little about the young man, but what he did know was certainly in his favor. To cut the story short, the whole matter was soon pleasantly settled, and Hiram established as the accepted of Miss Tenant.