Tyrrel. Mrs. Jakeman had retired; the servants were gone to their
respective employments. Mr. Tyrrel would have gone also; his mind was
untuned, and he did not take the pleasure he had been accustomed to take
in the musical performances of Emily. But her finger was now more
tasteful than common. Her mind was probably wrought up to a firmer and
bolder tone, by the recollection of the cause she was going to plead; at
the same time that it was exempt from those incapacitating tremors which
would have been felt by one that dared not look poverty in the face. Mr.
Tyrrel was unable to leave the apartment. Sometimes he traversed it with
impatient steps; then he hung over the poor innocent whose powers were
exerted to please him; at length he threw himself in a chair opposite,
with his eyes turned towards Emily. It was easy to trace the progress of
his emotions. The furrows into which his countenance was contracted were
gradually relaxed; his features were brightened into a smile; the
kindness with which he had upon former occasions contemplated Emily
seemed to revive in his heart.

Emily watched her opportunity. As soon as she had finished one of the
pieces, she rose and went to Mr. Tyrrel.

"Now, have not I done it nicely? and after this will not you give me a
reward?"

"A reward! Ay, come here, and I will give you a kiss."

"No, that is not it. And yet you have not kissed me this many a day.
Formerly you said you loved me, and called me your Emily. I am sure you
did not love me better than I loved you. You have not forgot all the
kindness you once had for me?" added she anxiously.