Emmy's head sank down, and for almost the last time in which she shall be called upon to weep in this history, she commenced that work. Her head fell to her bosom, and her hands went up to her eyes; and there for a while, she gave way to her emotions, as Becky stood on and regarded her. Who shall analyse those tears and say whether they were sweet or bitter? Was she most grieved because the idol of her life was tumbled down and shivered at her feet, or indignant that her love had been so despised, or glad because the barrier was removed which modesty had placed between her and a new, a real affection? "There is nothing to forbid me now," she thought. "I may love him with all my heart now. Oh, I will, I will, if he will but let me and forgive me." I believe it was this feeling rushed over all the others which agitated that gentle little bosom.

Emmy's head sank down, and for almost the last time in this story, she wept. She gave way to her emotions, as Becky stood and regarded her. Who shall analyse those tears and say whether they were sweet or bitter? Was she most grieved because the idol of her life was tumbled down, or indignant that her love had been despised, or glad because the barrier was removed between her and a new, real affection?
"There is nothing to forbid me now," she thought. "I may love him with all my heart now. Oh, I will, I will, if he will only forgive me." I believe it was this feeling that rushed over all the others in that gentle little bosom.
