m from his home; not controlling him!"

"I'll bear the responsibility of what I am doing," said Mr. Howland,
impatiently. "Why will you interfere with me in this way?"

"Is he not _my_ son also?" inquired Mrs. Howland, passing, in her
distress of mind, beyond the ordinary spirit of her intercourse with
her self-willed husband.

"I am his father," coldly replied the latter, "and knowing my duty
toward him, shall certainly do it."

The bell was rung again at this moment, and more loudly than before.

"Oh, Andrew! let me beg of you to open the door!" And Mrs. Howland
clasped her hands imploringly, and lifted her eyes running over with
tears to her husband's face.

"It cannot be opened to-night, Esther!" was the firm reply. "Have I
not said this over and over again. Why will you continue these
importunities? They are of no avail."

A loud knocking on the street door was now heard. By this time, a
servant who had retired came down from her room and was moving along
the passage, when Mr. Howland intercepted her, with the question--

"Where are you going?"

"Some one rung the bell," replied the servant.

"Never mind; go back to your room. You needn't open the door."

"Andrew isn't in yet," said the servant, respectfully.

"Didn't I say, go back to your room?" returned Mr. Howland, in a
sharp voice.

Twice more the bell was rung, and twice more the knocking was
repeated. Then all remained silent.

"Come, Esther!" said Mr. Howland to his wife, who was sitting on a
sofa, with her face buried in her hands. "Let us go up stairs. It is
late."

The mother did not stir.

"Esther! did you hear me?"

Slowly, more like a moving automaton than a living creature, did
Mrs. Howland arise from her place, and follow her husband up to
their chamber. There, without uttering a word, she partially
disrobed herself, and getting into bed, buried her tearful face in a
pillow. Mr. Howland was soon by her side. Both lay without moving
for nearly half an hour, and then the heavy respiration of the
husband told that he was asleep. The moment this was apparent, Mrs.
Howland, who had lain as still as if locked in deep slumber, crept
softly from the bed, and then, with a quick, eager motion, commenced
putting on a wrapper. This done, she drew a pair of slippers on her
feet, glided noiselessly from the room, and hurried down to the
street door, which she softly opened.

The mother had hoped to find her erring son still there. But, as