came forth from her heart-seclusion, and let her affections, like a refreshing and invigorating stream, flow along many channels.  She was the faithful friend, the comforter in affliction, the wise counsellor.  More than once had she been approached with offers of marriage, by men who saw the excellence of her character, and felt that upon any dwelling, in which she was the presiding spirit, would rest a blessing.  But none of them were able to give to the even pulses of her heart a quicker motion.

At last she met Mr. Arnold.  More than three years had passed since the mother of his children was removed by death, and, since that time, he had sought, with all a father’s tenderness and devotion, to fill her place to them.  How imperfectly, none knew so well as himself.  As time went on, the want of a true woman’s affectionate care for his children was more and more felt.  All were girls except the youngest, their ages ranging from twelve downward, and this made their mother’s loss so much the more a calamity.  Moreover, his feeling of loneliness and want of companionship, so keenly felt in the beginning, instead of diminishing, increased.

Such was his state of mind when he met Agnes Green.  The attraction was mutual, though, at first, no thought of marriage came into the mind of either.  A second meeting stirred the placid waters in the bosom of Agnes Green.  Conscious of this, and fearful lest the emotion she strove to repress might become apparent to other eyes, she assumed a certain reserve, not seen in the beginning, which only betrayed her secret, and at once interested Mr. Arnold, who now commenced a close observation of her character.  With every new aspect in which this was presented, he saw something that awakened admiration; something that drew his spirit nearer to her as one congenial.  And not the less close was her observation.

When, at length, Mr. Arnold solicited the hand of Agnes Green, she was ready to respond.  Not, however, in a selfish and self-seeking spirit; not in the narrow hope of obtaining some great good for herself, was her response made, but in full view of her woman’s power to bless, and with an earnest, holy purpose in her heart, to make her presence in his household indeed a blessing.

“I must know your children better than I know them now, and they must know me better than they do, before I take the place you wish me to assume,” was her reply to Mr. Arnold, when he spoke of an early marriage.

And so means were taken to bring her in frequent contact with the children.  The first time she met them intimately, was at the house of a friend.  Mary, the oldest girl, she found passionate and self-willed; Florence, the second, good-natured, but careless and slovenly; while Margaret, the third, was in ill health, and exceedingly peevish.  The little brother, Willy, was a beautiful, affectionate child, but in consequence of injudicious management, very badly spoiled.  Take them altogether, they presented rather an unpromising aspect; and it is no wonder that Agnes Green had many misgivings at heart, when the new relation contemplated, and its trials and responsibilities, were pictured to her mind.