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.