o her soul, she knew not wherefore--'Emma, this is a momentous period
of your life, and everything depends on the steps you take'--

'Why, Hiram, what _do_ you mean--what _can_ you mean?'

'Nothing to alarm you, but everything to impress you with the fact that
no time is to be lost. Your father has made the foolish resolution to
give up all his private property to his creditors'--

'So he told mamma and me. Is that not right?'

'No, it is not right. It is wrong,' replied Hiram, in a harsh tone.
'More than wrong--sinful--wicked, very wicked. Do you know who it is the
Scripture says is worse than an infidel?'

'I do not,' she replied faintly.

Hiram intended to frighten her, and he had succeeded.

'You do not! Well, it is the man who fails to provide for his own
household. Why, we had the text in our Sunday-school lesson only three
weeks ago.'

Emma sat paralyzed.

'Now, Emma,' continued Hiram, 'I want you to see your mother, and tell
her what I say. Tell her your father is determined to ruin the whole of
you--going to give up this very house--just think of that.'

'Papa has already told us so,' said Emma in a low, timid tone; 'but he
says it is the only honorable course.'

'Honorable!' exclaimed Hiram, pettishly. 'Stuff--nonsense. I tell you
that you are all crazy. You don't think what you are about. Wait till
you are turned out of doors, bag and baggage, then see how you will
feel--but then it will be too late. Do you understand?'

Emma Tenant was not a brilliant girl, but she had good sense and an
honest nature. By degrees she recovered from the stupor into which
Hiram's onslaught threw her; she began to feel something of her lover's
purpose, and appreciate something of the position he might soon assume.
Loving and trustful, these faint glimmerings of the truth appalled her.
She did not cry any more. She became pale. She breathed short and quick.

'Hiram,' she gasped, 'you mean something--I fear you mean something.
Papa knows best what is honest, better than you--a young man. To lose
our property would make me unhappy. And I thought--yes, I conceived--oh,
Hiram--tell me--_am_ I going to lose you?' she cried, interrupting
herself. 'If it be so, say it--say it now. Do not keep me in suspense.'

'Why, Emma, how nervous you are! Ah, here comes your father. I see you
are waiting for me. I am quite ready, sir.'

'Good. Emma, can you spare him for one evening? You will soon have him
all to yourself--eh?' and,