ing her back with you. Our good friend Rufus has told me that you
are engaged to be married. Think of the misinterpretations, to say the
least of it, to which you would subject yourself--think of the reports
which would sooner or later find their way to the young lady's ears, and
of the deplorable consequences that would follow. I believe implicitly
in the purity of your motives. But remember Who taught us to pray that
we may not be led into temptation--and complete the good work that you
have begun, by leaving Sally among friends and sisters in this house."

To any honourable man, these were unanswerable words. Coming after what
Rufus and the surgeon had already said to him, they left Amelius no
alternative but to yield. He pleaded for leave to write to Sally, and
to see her, at a later interval, when she might be reconciled to her new
life. Mrs. Payson had just consented to both requests, Rufus had just
heartily congratulated him on his decision--when the door was thrown
violently open. Simple Sally ran into the room, followed by one of the
women-attendants in a state of breathless surprise.

"She showed me a bedroom," cried Sally, pointing indignantly to the
woman; "and she asked if I should like to sleep there." She turned to
Amelius, and caught him by the hand to lead him away. The ineradicable
instinct of distrust had been once more roused in her by the too zealous
attendant. "I'm not going to stay here," she said; "I'm going away with
You!"

Amelius glanced at Mrs. Payson. Sally tried to drag him to the door.
He did his best to reassure her by a smile; he spoke confusedly some
composing words. But his honest face, always accustomed to tell
the truth, told the truth now. The poor lost creature, whose feeble
intelligence was so slow to discern, so inapt to reflect, looked at him
with the heart's instantaneous perception, and saw her doom. She let
go of his hand. Her head sank. Without word or cry, she dropped on the
floor at his feet.

The attendant instantly raised her, and placed her on a sofa. Mrs.
Payson saw how resolutely Amelius struggled to control himself, and
felt for him with all her heart. Turning aside for a moment, she hastily
wrote a few lines, and returned to him. "Go, before we revive her,"
she whispered; "and give what I have written to the coachman. You shall
suffer no anxiety that I can spare you," said the excellent woman; "I
will stay here myself to-night, and reconcile her to the new life."