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“I shall certainly let things take their course,” replied the tavern-keeper. “Tell your father, from me, that he has nothing to hope for from any change in my purpose, and that he need make no more efforts to influence me. I will buy the place, as I said, for six hundred dollars, its full value, or I will sell it for my claim.”

And saying this, the man left, abruptly, the room in which his interview with Mary was held, and she, hopeless of making any impression on his feelings, arose and retired from the house, taking, with a sad heart, her way homeward. Never before had Mary, a gentle-hearted, quiet, retiring girl, been forced into such rough contact with the world at any point. Of this act of intercession for her father, Mr. Bacon knew nothing. Had she dropped (sic) a a word of her purpose in his hearing, he would have uttered a positive interdiction. He loved Mary as the apple of his eye, and she loved him with a tender, self-devoted affection. To him, she was a choice and beautiful flower, and even though his mind had become, in a certain degree, degraded and debased by intemperance, there was in it a quick instinct of protection when any thing approached his child.

Slowly and thoughtfully, with her eyes bent upon the ground, did Mary Bacon pursue her way homeward; and she was not aware of the approach of footsteps behind her, until a man stood by her side and pronounced her name.

“Mr. Green!” said she, in momentary surprise, pausing as she looked up.

Mr. Green was a farmer in easy circumstances, whose elegant and highly cultivated place was only a short distance from her father’s residence. He was, probably, the richest man in the neighbourhood of Brookville; though, exceedingly close in all money matters. Mr. Bacon would have called upon him for aid in his extremity, but for two reasons. One was, Mr. Green’s known indisposition to lend money, and the other was the fact that he had several times talked to him about his bad drinking habits; at which liberty he had taken offence, and retorted rather sharply for one of his mild temper.

The colour mounted quickly to Mary’s face, as she paused and lifted her eyes to the countenance of Mr. Green. The fact was, she had been thinking about him, and, just at the moment he came to her side, she had fully made up her mind to call upon him before going home.

“Well Mary,” said he, kindly, and he took her hand.

Mary’s lips quivered, but she could not utter a word.

Mr. Green moved on, still holding her hand, and she moved by his side.

“I’m sorry to hear,” said Mr. Green, “that your father is in trouble. I learned it only an hour ago.”

“That is just what I was coming to see you about,” replied Mary, with a boldness of speech that surprised even herself.

“Indeed! Then you were coming to see me,” said Mr. Green, in a voice that was rather encouraging than otherwise.

“Yes, sir. But father knows nothing of my purpose.”

“Oh! Well, Mary, what is it you wish to say to me?”

The young girl’s bosom was heaving violently. Some moments passed ere she felt calm enough to proceed. Then she said–

“Mr. Dyer has a mortgage on father’s place for three hundred dollars, and is going to sell it.”

“Mr. Dyer is a hard man, and your father should not have placed himself in his power,” remarked Mr. Green.

“Unhappily, he is in his power.”

“So it seems. Well, what do you wish me to do in the case?”

“To lend me three hundred dollars,” said Mary, promptly. Thus encouraged to speak, she did not hesitate a moment.

“Lend you three hundred dollars! returned Mr. Green, rather surprised at the directness of her request. “For what use?”

“To pay off this mortgage, of course,” replied Mary.

“But, who will pay me back my money?” inquired Mr. Green.