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Mr. Bacon was walking uneasily, backwards and forwards in the old porch, when Mary entered the little garden gate. She advanced towards him with a bright face, holding out as she did so, a small package of papers.

“Good news, father!” she exclaimed. “Good news!

“How? What, child?” eagerly asked the old man, his mind becoming suddenly bewildered.

“The mortgage is paid, and here is the release!” said Mary, still holding out the package of papers.

“Paid! Paid, Mary! Who paid it?” returned Mr. Bacon, with the air of a man awaking from a dream.

“I have paid it, father dear!” answered Mary, in a trembling voice; and she kissed the old man’s cheek, and then laid her face down upon his breast.

“You, Mary?” Where did you get money?”

“I borrowed it,” murmured the happy girl.

“Mary! Mary! what does this mean?” said the old man, pushing back her face and gazing into it earnestly. “Borrowed the money! Why, who would lend you three hundred dollars? Say, child!”

“I borrowed it of Mr. Green,” replied Mary, and as she said this, she glided past her father and entering into the house, hurried away to her mother. But ere she had time to inform her of what she had done, the father joined them, eager for some further explanations. When, at last, he comprehended the whole matter, he was, for a time like a man stricken down by a heavy blow.

“Never,” said he, in the most solemn manner, “will I consent to this. Mr. Green must take back his money. Let the farm go! It shall not be saved at this price.”

But he soon comprehended that it was too late to recall the act of his daughter. The money had already passed into the hands of Dyer, and the mortgage been cancelled. Still, he was fixed in his purpose that Mary should not leave home to spend two long years of incessant toil in a factory, and immediately called on Mr. Green in order to make with him some different arrangement for the payment of the loan. But, to his surprise and grief, he found that Mr. Green was unyielding in his determination to keep Mary to her contract.

“Surely! surely! Mr. Green, “urged the distressed father,” you will not hold my dear child to this pledge, made under circumstances of so trying a nature? You will not punish–I say punish–a gentle girl like her for loving her father too well.”

“If there is any hardship in the case,” replied Mr. Green, calmly, “you are at fault, and not me, Mr. Bacon.”

“Why do you say that?” inquired the old man.

“For the necessity which drove your child to this act of self-sacrifice, you are responsible.”

“Oh sir! is this a time to wound me with words like these? Why do you turn a seeming act of kindness into the sharpest cruelty?”

“I speak to you but the words of truth and soberness, Mr. Bacon. These, no man should shrink from hearing. Seven years ago, your farm was the most productive in the neighborhood, and you in easy circumstances. What has produced the sad change now visible to all eyes? What has taken from you the ability to manage your affairs as prosperously as before? What has made it necessary for your child to leave her father’s sheltering roof and bury herself for two long years in a factory, in order to save you from total ruin? Go home, Mr. Bacon, and answer these questions to your own heart, and may the pain you now suffer lead you to act more wisely in the future.”

“My daughter shall not go!” exclaimed the old man, passionately.

“I hold her written pledge to repair to Lowell at the expiration of three weeks, and to repay the loan I made her in two years. Will you compel her to violate her contract?”

“I will execute another mortgage on my farm and pay you back the loan.”

“Act like a wise man,” said Mr. Green. “Let your daughter carry out her noble purpose, and thus relieve you from embarrassment.”