hing that could happen to me.'

'How sorry you must have been to get well.'

He replied,

'Her wings were grown,
To heaven she's flown,
'Cause I had none I'm left.'

'Those lines haunted me when I found myself reviving to the weary
useless life I spend here.'

'O how can you call it so?' cried Violet. 'How could Arthur and I do
without you?'

There was a sound up-stairs, and she started to the door, ran up, but
came down in a few moments. 'He is awake and better,' she said. 'I
cannot come down again, for Sarah must go to supper. Good night; thank
you for what you have told me;' then, with an earnest look, 'only I
can't bear you to say your life is useless. You don't know how we look
to you.'

'Thank you for your kind listening,' he answered. 'It has done me a
great deal of good; but do not stay,' as he saw her evidently longing to
return to her child, yet lingering in the fear of unkindness to him. 'I
am glad he is better; you and he must both have a good night.'

John was indeed refreshed by the evening's conversation. It had
disclosed to him a new source of comfort, for hitherto his grief had
never known the relief of sympathy. His whole soul had been fixed on
one object from his boyhood; the hopes of deserving Helen had been his
incentive to exertion in his youth, and when disabled by sickness, he
had always looked forward to a new commencement of active usefulness
with her. It had been a life of waiting: patient, but without present
action, and completely wrapped up in a single attachment and hope. When
that was taken from him he had not failed in faith and submission, but
he had nothing to occupy him or afford present solace and interest; he
had no future save lonely waiting still, until he should again rejoin
her who had been his all on earth.

However, the effort made to reconcile his brother with the family had
produced an unlooked-for influence, and enlarged his sphere of interest.
At first came languid amusement in contemplating the pretty young
bride, then liking and compassion for her, then the great anxiety in her
illness, and afterwards real affection and solicitude for her and her
child had filled his mind, and detached him from his own sorrows; and he
now became sensible that he had, indeed, while trying to serve her
and his brother, done much for his own relief. What she said of their
dependence on him was not only a pleasure to him, but