"Why recall the painful past at such a moment, my sweet girl? has it not
been redeemed by three years of undeviating rectitude and virtue? I had
hoped the recollection had ere this long ceased to disturb you," replied
Mrs. Hamilton, with much feeling, as she pressed her lips to her niece's
brow.

"It never can, it never will, unless--unless--" Strong and almost
fearful emotion prevented all she had wished to say, and throwing into
Mrs. Hamilton's lap a small calf-skin pocket-book, she flung her arms
round her neck, and burying her face in her bosom, murmured, in a voice
choked with sobs, "The amount of all I took is there--all--all. Oh, take
it, and let me thus feel it as a debt which I have paid."

"Ellen, my own Ellen, be composed," entreated Mrs. Hamilton, alarmed by
the extreme agitation she beheld. "Tell me, love, what are the contents
of this pocket-book? why do you entreat me so earnestly to take it?"

Struggling violently with herself, Ellen tore open the little book, and
placed in her aunt's hand bank notes to the amount of those which had
once been so fatal a temptation.

"They are mine--all mine. I have gained them honestly; indeed, indeed I
have; I have worked for them. It was to gain time for this I refused to
go out with you last winter. I had hoped my long, long task would have
been done before, but it was not. Oh, I thought I should never, never
gain the whole amount, but I have now; and, oh, tell me I have in part
redeemed my sin; tell me I am more worthy of your love, your kindness;
tell me I am again indeed your own happy Ellen."