azing into the fire, lost in reverie. It was not a very
happy or peaceful reverie, to judge from the many changes on her
expressive face. The words, "Shall I, or shall I not?" came often to
her lips. Many things seemed to tear her judgment in divers ways; most
of all the look in her little son's eyes when he asked that eager,
impatient question, "mother, why aren't we rich?" but other and older
voices than little Harold's said to her, and they spoke pleadingly
enough, "Leave this thing alone; God knows what is best for you. As you
have gone on all these years, so continue, not troubling about what you
cannot understand, but trusting to him."

"I cannot; I am so tired sometimes," sighed the poor young wife.

She was still undetermined when her husband returned. There was a great
contrast in their faces--a greater almost in their voices, in the tone
of her dispirited, "Well, Angus," and his almost triumphant answer,----

"Well, Lottie, that hard fight has ended bravely. Thank God!"

"Ah! then the poor soul has gone," said the wife, moving her husband's
chair into the warmest corner.

"She has truly gone; I saw her breathe her last. But there is no need to
apply the word 'poor' to her; she has done with all that. You know what
a weakly, troubled creature she always was, how temptation and doubt
seemed to wrap her round like a mist, and prevent her seeing any of the
shining of the blue sky. Well, it all passed away at the last, and there
was nothing but a steadfast looking into the very face of her Lord. He
came for her, and she just stretched out her arms and went to Him. Thank
God for being privileged to witness such a death; it makes life far more
easy."

A little weariness had crept perceptibly into the brave voice of the
minister as he said these last words. His wife laid her hand
sympathizingly on his. They sat silent for a few moments, then he spoke
on a different subject,----

"How is baby to-night, Lottie?"

"Better, I think; his tooth is through at last. He will have rest now
for a bit, poor little darling."

"We must be careful to keep him from catching another cold. And how is
Anne getting on?"

"As well as we can expect from such an ignorant little mite. And oh!
Angus, the nursery is such a cold, draughty room, and I do--I do wish we
were rich."

The last words were tumbled out with a great irrepressible burst of
tears.

"Why, my Lottie, what has come to you?" said her husband, touched and
alarm