There was a pressure on his bosom; but it was not the pressure of trouble that had rested upon it so long, but a pressure of conflicting emotions, all tending to soften and subdue his feelings, to bend the iron man, and to mould his spirit into a new and better form.

With a lively pleasure was he looking forward to the second meeting with Andrew in the presence of his mother, but he did not know how great a pleasure, beyond his anticipations, was in store for him.
On arriving at his house, Mr.Howland opened the door and went in.
He had passed along the entry but a few paces, when some one stepped from the parlor.

He paused, and looked up.

It was his daughter Mary who stood before him.

In her arms was a sweet little girl, and on her face was a smile, the warmth and light of which were on his heart in an instant.
"Father!" It was the only word she uttered.