essed."

"I'm afraid Fred is not to be trusted, Mary," said the father, with
hesitating tenderness. "He means better than he acts, perhaps. But I
should think it a pity for any body's happiness to be wrapped up in
him, and so would your mother."

"And so should I, father," said Mary, not looking up, but putting the
back of her father's hand against her cheek.

"I don't want to pry, my dear. But I was afraid there might be
something between you and Fred, and I wanted to caution you. You see,
Mary"--here Caleb's voice became more tender; he had been pushing his
hat about on the table and looking at it, but finally he turned his
eyes on his daughter--"a woman, let her be as good as she may, has got
to put up with the life her husband makes for her. Your mother has had
to put up with a good deal because of me."

Mary turned the back of her father's hand to her lips and smiled at him.

"Well, well, nobody's perfect, but"--here Mr. Garth shook his head to
help out the inadequacy of words--"what I am thinking of is--what it
must be for a wife when she's never sure of her husband, when he hasn't
got a principle in him to make him more afraid of doing the wrong thing
by others than of getting his own toes pinched. That's the long and
the short of it, Mary. Young folks may get fond of each other before
they know what life is, and they may think it all holiday if they can
only get together; but it soon turns into working day, my dear.
However, you have more sense than most, and you haven't been kept in
cotton-wool: there may be no occasion for me to say this, but a father
trembles for his daughter, and you are all by yourself here."

"Don't fear for me, father," said Mary, gravely meeting her father's
eyes; "Fred has always been very good to me; he is kind-hearted and
affectionate, and not false, I think, with all his self-indulgence. But
I will never engage myself to one who has no manly independence, and
who goes on loitering away his time on the chance that others will
provide for him. You and my mother have taught me too much pride for
that."

"That's right--that's right. Then I am easy," said Mr. Garth, taking
up his hat. "But it's hard to run away with your earnings, eh child."

"Father!" said Mary, in her deepest tone of remonstrance. "Take
pocketfuls of love besides to them all at home," was her last word
before he closed the outer door on himself.

"I suppose your father wanted your earnings," said ol