s.
Howland could hardly have kept her head above the waters that were
rushing around her. Toward Martha the conduct of her father had,
from the first, been of a mild character compared with his action
toward the other children; and this received a still farther
modification, when it become apparent even to himself, that by his
hardness he had estranged the affections of his elder children, and
driven them away. Gentle and loving in all her actions, she
gradually won her way more and more deeply into the heart of her
father, until she acquired a great influence over him. This
influence she had tried to make effectual in bringing about a
reconciliation between him and her sister's husband; but, up to this
time, her good offices were not successful. The old man's prejudices
remained strong--he was not prepared to yield; and Markland's
self-love having been deeply wounded by Mr. Howland, he was not
disposed to make any advances toward healing the breach that
existed. As for Mary, she cherished too deeply the remembrance of
her father's unbending severity toward his children--in fact his
iron hand had well nigh crushed affection out of her heart--to feel
much inclined to use any influence with her husband. And so the
separation, unpleasant and often painful to both parties, continued.
To Mrs. Howland it was a source of constant affliction. Much had she
done toward affecting a reconciliation; but the materials upon which
she tried to impress something of her own gentle and forgiving
spirit were of too hard a nature.

On the afternoon of the day on which Andrew returned so
unexpectedly, almost like one rising from the dead, Mrs. Howland was
alone, Martha having gone out to visit a friend. She was sitting in
her chamber thinking of the long absent one--she had thought of him
a great deal of late--when she heard the street door open and shut,
and then there came the sound of a man's feet along the passage. She
bent her head and listened. It was not the sound of her husband's
feet--she knew his tread too well. Soon the man, whoever he was,
commenced ascending the stairs; then he came toward her door, and
then there was a gentle tap. The heart of Mrs. Howland was, by this
time, beating violently. A moment or two passed before she had
presence of mind sufficient to go to the door and open it.

"Andrew! Andrew! Oh, Andrew, my son!" she cried, in a glad, eager
voice, the instant her eyes rested on the fine figure of a tall,
sun-b