ttle softly as she afterward said, and
so the time wore on till the evening found us again all around the
table, and old grey Timothy, our cat, had the boldness to sit in Louis'
chair, which made Clara laugh through her tears. Joy and sorrow go hand
in hand, and while we felt his loss so keenly, his letters were a great
pleasure.

Hal had his share as well as Clara and I, and mother used to read every
one of Hal's. It seemed strange to me to have anything to keep from
mother, and had she opened the door I would have told her all, but she
never asked me about Louis' letters, and until I overheard a
conversation between my father and her I was held in silence; then the
ice was broken, for father said:

"I do not know what to do. It is possible that this bright young fellow
will play the part that so many do, and our innocent Emily be made the
sufferer. When he comes again we will try and manage to have her away.
She is a good girl and capable beside. Her life must not be blighted,
but we must also be careful not to hurt Clara's feelings. Clara is a
good little woman, and how we should miss her if she left us!"

"Well," said my mother, "I do not feel alarmed about our Emily, but, of
course, it is better to take too much precaution than not enough," and
their conversation ended.

When an opportunity presented I talked with mother, told her what I had
heard, and all that Louis had said to me, almost word for word, and the
result was her confidence. When our talk closed, she said in her own
impressive way:

"I will trust you, my daughter, and only one thing more I have to say:
Let me urge upon you the importance of testing your own deepest, best
feelings in regard to this and every other important step--yes, and
unimportant ones as well. There is a monitor within that will prove an
unerring guide to us at all times. If we do not permit ourselves to be
hurried and driven into other than our own life channels we shall gather
from the current an impetus, which comes from the full tide of our
innate thought. Such thought develops an inner sense of truth and
fitness, which is a shield ever covering us, under any and all
circumstances. It holds us firmly poised, no matter which way the wind
may be, or from what quarter it strikes us."

This thought I could not then appreciate fully, but I did what I could
toward it, and it was, in after years, even then, an anchor. My mother's
eyes were beautiful; they looked like wells, and