"Wrong, my child," said Mrs Glaire, embracing her, as the tears started to her eyes. "No; it was most maidenly and true. But, Eve, my child, some day you may be a mother--some day you may have a son, over whose welfare your heart will yearn, and for whom you would be ready to do anything--even to committing a crime to save him from a downward course." "Aunt!" cried the girl, looking up at her wonderingly, for she was speaking now in eager excited tones. "Yes, child; ready to screen him, forgive him, bear the penalty of his sins, anything to save him from pain, suffering, or the retribution he has been calling down upon his head." "Oh, aunt," cried the girl, in awe-stricken tones, "is it like this to be a mother?" "No, no, my child: all sons are not like this. But it is a mother's agony to feel that if her boy turns from the straightforward course, she may herself be perhaps to blame; that by indulgent weakness, by giving up the reins of government too soon, she may have caused him to go astray; and--Eve--Eve--my darling, this is my fate, and it is you alone who can save my boy." "Aunt!" "Yes, child. He is my boy, my very own, and I have been weak, and let the weeds grow up in him, to the choking of the good qualities he possesses. I have been too proud of him, too glad to see my son taking his position as a gentleman, and a man of the world. It was my proud desire to see him the leading man here at the works--the great man of the town; and my pride has brought its punishment--has ruined my boy, so that he needs all I can do to save him." "Aunt--dear aunt--pray--pray don't kneel to me," cried Eve, excitedly, as she saw her aunt's next act. "Yes, yes, child, I must--I must; for it is to you I look alone for help, as God's minister, to save my boy. I--I have sinned for him more deeply than I can tell--more than a life of repentance can wash out, bringing, as I have, misery upon others, and fresh ill-treatment of my boy; but you--you--Eve, can save him. We must forgive--you must forgive; for it is I who am to blame." "No, no, aunt." "Yes, my child," cried Mrs Glaire, clinging to her passionately. "Nothing but the earnest love of a pure, true woman, can save him--the woman who will be his faithful wife, and bless him with her love. Eve, my child, on my knees I ask you to forgive him, now--at once, even as you nightly pray our Father to forgive us our trespasses. Say you will forgive him, that you will blot out all the past, and be his wife; for it will be the turning-point of his life." "Aunt, dear aunt," sobbed the poor girl, bewildered by the strange outburst of passion from one generally so calm and placid in her ways. "What can I say? Oh, this is terrible!" "Terrible, Eve? No, no, child, not terrible to save him we love, for you do love him, Eve?" "I--I--hope so, aunt."