Bitter indeed were the sufferings of Mr. Bacon, during the quick passage of the three weeks—­at the expiration of which time Mary was to leave home, in compliance with her contract—­and the more bitter, because his mind was unobscured by drink.  At last, the moment of separation came.  It was a clear cold morning towards the latter end of March, when Mary left, for the last time, her little chamber, and came down stairs dressed for her journey.  Ever, in the presence of her father and mother, during the brief season of preparation, had she maintained a cheerful and confident exterior; but, in her heart, there was a painful shrinking back from the trial upon which she was about entering.  On going by the door of Mary’s chamber, a few minutes before she came down, Mrs. Bacon saw her daughter kneeling at her bedside, with her face deeply buried among the clothes.  Not till that moment did she fully comprehend the trial through which her child was passing.

The stage was at the door, and Mary’s trunk strapped up in the boot before she came down.  In the porch stood her father and mother, and her younger brother and sister, waiting her appearance.

“Good bye, father,” said the excellent girl, in a cheerful voice, as she reached out her hand.

Mr. Bacon caught it eagerly, and essayed to speak some tender and encouraging words.  But though his lips moved, there was no sound upon the air.

“God bless you!” was at length uttered in a sobbing voice.  A fervent kiss was then pressed upon her lips, and the old man turned away and staggered rather than walked back into the house.

More calmly the mother parted with her child.  It was a great trial for Mrs. Bacon, but she now fully comprehended the great use to flow from Mary’s self-devotion, and, therefore, with her last kiss, breathed a word of encouragement.

“It is for your father.  Let that sustain you to the end.”  A few moments more, and the stage rolled away, bearing with it the very sunlight from the dwelling of Mr. Bacon.  Poor old man!  Restlessly did he wander about for days after Mary’s departure, unable to apply himself, except for a little while at a time, to any work; but his inquietude did not drive him back to the cup he had abandoned.  No, he saw in it too clearly the cause of his present deep distress, to look upon and feel its allurement.  What had banished from her pleasant home that beloved child, and sent her forth among strangers to toil from early morning until the going down of the sun?  Could he love the cause of this great evil?  No!  There was yet enough virtue in his heart to save him.  Love for his child was stronger than his depraved love of strong drink.  A few more ineffectual efforts were made to turn Mr. Green from his resolution to hold Mary to her contract, and then the humbled father resigned himself to the necessity he could not overcome, and with a clearer mind and a newly awakened purpose, applied himself to the culture of his farm, which, in a few months, had a more thrifty appearance than it had presented for years.