"My poor deluded child," said he, when he had finished.
"Oh, shall we not forgive the dear penitent ?" said Mrs.Temple.

"We must, we will, my love; she is willing to return, and 'tis our duty to receive her." "Father of mercy," said Mr.Eldridge, raising his clasped hands, "let me but live once more to see the dear wanderer restored to her afflicted parents, and take me from this world of sorrow whenever it seemeth best to thy wisdom." "Yes, we will receive her," said Mr.Temple; "we will endeavour to heal her wounded spirit, and speak peace and comfort to her agitated soul.

I will write to her to return immediately.' "Oh!" said Mrs.Temple, "I would if possible fly to her, support and cheer the dear sufferer in the approaching hour of distress, and tell her how nearly penitence is allied to virtue.

Cannot we go and conduct her home, my love ?" continued she, laying her hand on his arm.

"My father will surely forgive our absence if we go to bring home his darling." "You cannot go, my Lucy," said Mr.Temple: "the delicacy of your frame would but poorly sustain the fatigue of a long voyage; but I will go and bring the gentle penitent to your arms: we may still see many years of happiness." The struggle in the bosom of Mrs.Temple between maternal and conjugal tenderness was long and painful.