"I will not let Thee go,
except Thou bless me." But no apparent result manifested itself. Indeed,
Richard appeared to grow more hardened and desperate than ever, and it
required all the grace and patience that Margaret possessed, to endure
his continual cruelty with meekness.

On the Saturday evening preceding the Sunday when she had expressed her
conviction of a joyful termination to her anxious watching, a knock was
heard at her door, and opening it, the kindly face of one of the workers
from the Mission Hall was seen.

"Is your husband in, Mrs. Seymour?" asked the man.

"Yes," answered Margaret, in an undertone, "he's just sitting down a bit
before going out for the evening; but come in and you'll catch him
nicely."

"Good-evening, Mr. Seymour, I'm glad to find you at home," were the
words that caused Richard to look up in angry surprise.

"Evenin'," he muttered by way of reply, without removing his pipe from
his mouth.

"I'm real sorry to have missed you from the Hall for so long, Mr.
Seymour, and I've been wondering whether you meant to leave us
altogether. We only want to be your friends, you know, and you don't
want to run away from those who would do you a good turn if you'd let
them," said the worker, nothing daunted by his ungracious reception.

Again Richard looked up, and perhaps the fact that his visitor was a
working-man not much above his own station in life, rendered him more
susceptible to the attention shown him. And besides, the spoken words
were not mere empty talk, Richard could not but acknowledge; for
practical help in dire need had found its way to the poverty-stricken
home, from the Christian friends who had rallied round his wife. So,
with half-shamed face, he answered gruffly:

"I didn't think of comin' again; such places ain't for the likes of me."

"And who do you think they are for then? Why, my man, it's poor folks
like you and me, who wouldn't feel comfortable in grand churches and
chapels, that want such homely places, where we can slip in and out
without being looked down upon."

"Maybe you're right so fur; but you don't want no smokin', drinkin'
fellers, anyhow," responded Richard.

"You're making another mistake, Mr. Seymour; for the truth is, we're
better pleased to see them turn up than any other sort of folks; so
you'd better give me leave to call for you to-morrow evening at eight
o'clock, before the service begins."

"Well, I'm beat. You mean to take it out of me,