give you? What are you saying, my child?" said Obed Chute,
tenderly. "I am the one who must be forgiven. I have disturbed and
troubled you, when I was only seeking to secure your happiness."

By this time Obed had recovered from his surprise, and began to
contemplate the present state of affairs in their new aspect. It
certainly was strange that this young girl should be a married woman,
but so it was; and what then? "What then?" was the question which
suggested itself to Zillah also. Would it make any difference--or
rather would it not make all the difference in the world? Hitherto
she had felt unembarrassed in his society, but hereafter all would be
different. Never again could she feel the same degree of ease as
before in his presence. Would he not hereafter seem to her and to
himself as a rejected lover?

But these thoughts soon were diverted into another channel by Obed
Chute himself.

"So you are married?" said he, solemnly.

"Yes," faltered Zillah.

"Well, my child," said Obed, with that same tenderness in his voice,
which was now so familiar to her, "whether it is for good or evil I
do not seek to know. I only say this, that if there is any thing
which I could do to secure your happiness, you could not find any one
who would do more for you than Obed Chute."

"Oh, my friend!"

"Just now," said Obed Chute, "I asked you to be my wife. Do not avoid
the subject, my child. I am not ashamed of having made that proposal.
It was for your happiness, as I thought, as well as for my own. I
loved you; and I thought that, perhaps, if you were my wife, I could
make you happier than you now are. But since it is not to be, what
then? Why, I love you none the less; and if you can not be my wife,
you shall be my daughter. Do not look upon me as a passionate youth.
My love is deep and tender and self-sacrificing. I think, perhaps, it
is much more the love of a father than that of a husband, and that it
is just as well that there are obstacles in the way of my proposal.
Do not look so sad, my little child," continued Obed Chute, with
increased tenderness. "Why should you? I am your friend, and you must
love me as much as you can--like a daughter. Will you be a daughter
to me? Will you trust me, my child, and brighten my life as you have
been doing?"

He held out his hand.

Zillah took it, and burst into tears. A thousand contending emotions
were in her heart and agitating her.

"Oh, my friend and benefactor!" said she