It pleases me to feel I have a warm home, and to help keep it cheerful.

When my father kisses me at night, or my mother says, 'God bless you, child,' I know that is enough, that I ought to be happy." The old clock in the corner hummed and ticked through the deep silence, like the humble voice of the home she toiled to keep warm, thanking her, comforting her.
"Once more," as the light grew stronger on her face,--"will you look down into your heart that you have given to this great work, and tell me what you see there?
Dare you do it, Margret ?" "I dare do it,"-- but her whisper was husky.
"Go on." He watched her more as a judge would a criminal, as she sat before him: she struggled weakly under the power of his eye, not meeting it.

He waited relentless, seeing her face slowly whiten, her limbs shiver, her bosom heave.
"Let me speak for you," he said at last.

"I know who once filled your heart to the exclusion of all others: it is no time for mock shame.

I know it was my hand that held the very secret of your being.