if
tempted by a fascination he could not resist, striving to find, if
possible, in the wretchedness of another, a lower deep than his own.
Especially in the solemn hours of the night, when the silence was so
profound, he could fancy he heard the flickering of the candles, he
read the book. Then hanging upon image after image of those deploring
strains, and appropriating all their melancholy, intensified through
the lens of his own dark imagination, he would sink from one depth
of wretchedness to another, till he seemed lost away, where no ray of
light could ever penetrate, or plummet sound.

He had been reading one night late, until as if unable to endure the
images of woe it conjured up, he pushed the book away from him. The
night was dark and stormy, and the rain pouring in torrents. He walked
to the window and looked out. He could see nothing, except as the
landscape was revealed for an instant by a flash of lightning. He
could hear nothing, except the peals of thunder rolling through
the valleys. He took a candle, and walked cautiously to the door of
Faith's chamber, to see if she were asleep. The door was ajar, for
the purpose of ventilation, and, shading the light with his hand,
Armstrong could see the face of his sleeping daughter without waking
her. She lay in the profound slumber of health and youth, undisturbed
by the noise of the thunder, as one conscious of a protecting
Providence. Her left hand was under her cheek, the black hair combed
back, and collected under the snowy cap. Her breathing was scarcely
perceptible, but soft and quiet as an infant's. An expression of
happiness rested on her features, and the color was a little kindled
in her cheek, looking brighter in contrast with the linen sheet.

"She sleeps," he thought, "as if there were no sin and misery in the
world. And why should she not? What has she to do with them? Were my
spiritual eyes opened, I should see the protecting angels in shining
garments around her bed, unless my approach has driven them away.
Heaven takes care of its own. So I could sleep once. Will the time
come when she, too, shall be so guilty she cannot sleep? Almighty
God forbid! Better she were in her grave. They are fortunate who die
young. They are taken from the evil to come. The heart ceases to beat
before it becomes so hard it cannot repent. Were she to die to-night
her salvation would be assured. What infinite gain! The murderer could
inflict no injury, but would confe