The morning after the concert, he had taken Barbara's letter from under his pillow, and would not let it out of his hand. His mother, fearing he would wear it to pieces, once and again tried to remove it; but the moment she touched it, he would cry out and strike; and when in his restless turning he dropped it, he showed himself so miserable that she could not but put it in his hand again, when he would lie perfectly quiet for a while. Dreaming of Barbara however, I fancy, he at length forgot her letter, and his mother again put it under his pillow. With the Lord, we shall forget even the gospel of John. She drew out the crumpled, frayed envelope, and gave it him. The moment he touched it, everything came back to him. “Now I remember, mother!” he cried. “Thank you, mother! I will try to be a better boy to you. I am sorry I ever vexed you.” “You never vexed me, Richard!” said the mother-heart; “--or if ever you did, I've forgotten it. And now that God has given you back to us, we must see whether we can't do something better for you!” Richard was so weary that he did not care to ask what she meant, and in a moment was asleep, with the letter in his hand. When at length he was able to read it, it caused him not a little pleasure, and some dismay. He read that her father was determined she should marry Mr. Lestrange; but her mother was against it; and there was as much dissension at home as ever. She believed lady Ann had talked her father into it, for he had not always favoured the idea. There was indeed greater reason now why both lady Ann and her father should desire it, for there was every likelihood of her being left sole heir to the property, as her brother could not, the doctors said, live many months. She was sure her mother was trying to do right, and she herself did all she could to please her father, but nothing less than her consent to his plans for what he called her settlement in life, would satisfy him, and that she could not give.