When the merchant arose on the following morning, it was with the light heart which always accompanies the determination to do right. He was determined that the salutation of “A happy New Year” should not be with him a mere matter of lip-service.
“I believe,” said he to himself, “I will go and see my old friend, Mark Audley. If his son Arthur is really desirous of going to college, what is there to prevent my bearing the expenses? I am abundantly able, and can dispose of my money in no better way.”
As he walked along with this praiseworthy determination in his heart, his attention was drawn towards a little girl, who was gazing, with eager, wistful eyes, into the window of a neighboring shop, where were displayed, in tempting array, some fine oranges. He thought—nay, he was quite sure—that in her he recognized the little girl who figured in the first scene unfolded the evening before by the mysterious mirror. By way of ascertaining, he addressed her in pleasant tone:—
“Your name is Alice,—is it not?”
“Yes, sir,” said she, looking up, surprised, and somewhat awed.
“And your father is sick,—is he not?”
“Yes, sir; but he is almost well now.”
“I saw you were looking at the oranges in that window. Now, I will buy you a dozen, if you will let me help you carry them home.”
The purchase was made; and the merchant walked along, conversing with his little conductor, who soon lost her timidity.