your decision."

Mary perused it in silence, and then put it in her cousin's hand,
while the tears rolled over her cheeks.

"Mary, think well ere you reject this kind offer. Remember how
earnestly he entreats that you will come and share his love, his home,
and his fortune. Many privations will be ours, in the land to which we
go, and numberless trials assail the poverty-stricken. All these you
can avoid, by accepting this very affectionate invitation. Think well,
Mary, lest in after-years you repent your hasty decision."

There came a long pause, and hurriedly Florence paced to and fro. Mary
lifted her bowed head, and pushing back her clustering hair, calmly
replied, "My heart swells with gratitude toward my noble, generous
uncle. Oh, how fervently I can thank him for his proffered home! yet,
separated from you, dear Florry, I could not be happy; my heart would
ache for you, and your warm, trusting love. I fear neither poverty
nor hardships. Oh, let me go with you, and cheer and assist my dear
uncle!"

"You shall go with us, my pure-hearted cousin. When I thought a moment
since, of parting with you, my future seemed gloomy indeed, but now I
know that you will be near, I am content."

A short silence ensued, broken by a mournful exclamation from
Florence.

"Ah! Mary, it is not for myself that I regret this change of fortune,
but for my proud, haughty father, who will suffer so keenly. Oh, my
heart aches when I think of him!"

"Florry, we must cheer him by those thousand little attentions, which
will lead him to forget his pecuniary troubles."

Florence shook her head.

"You do not know my father as I do. He will have no comforters, broods
over difficulties in secret, and shrinks from sympathy as from a
'scorching brand.'"

"Still, I think we can do much to lighten his cares, and I pray God I
may not be mistaken," replied Mary.

Florence lifted her head from her palm and gazed vacantly at her
cousin, then started from her seat.

"Mary, we must not sit here idly, when there is so much to do, Madame
---- should know we leave to-morrow, and it will take us all day to
prepare for our journey."

"Do let me go and speak to Madame----; it will be less unpleasant to
me?"

"No, no; I will go myself; they shall not think I feel it so sensibly,
and their condolence to-morrow would irritate me beyond measure. I
scorn such petty trials as loss of fortune, and they shall know it."

"Who shall know it, Florry?"