“Now,” said he, on doing this, “I want your written promise to pay me the three hundred dollars in the way proposed.  I will draw up the paper, and you must sign it.”

The paper was accordingly drawn up and signed.  It stipulated that Mary was to start for Lowell within three weeks, and that she was to have two years for the full payment of the debt.

“My brave girl!” said Mr. Green, as he parted with Mary.  “No one will be prouder of you than I, if you accomplish the work to which you are about devoting yourself.  Happy would I be, had I a daughter with your true heart and noble courage.”

Mary’s heart was too full to thank him.  But her sweet young face was beaming with gratitude, as she turned away and hurried homeward.

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.”