s as gentle as a
lamb in common, and never scolds or complains; but when she
gets into a tantrum about something as one wants her to do or
not to do, she grows to look quite wild like. It's just now
that Mrs. Denley saw you a-coming down the street; and says
she to Mrs. Rodney (Mrs. Denley had stepped up to see how the
fire was burning. Sir,)--well, says she to Mrs. Rodney,
'There's Mr. Lacy a-coming down this way Ma'am; I think he'll
be after asking to see you:' and Mrs. Rodney on that turns
round and says so sudden, 'If I am to be persecuted in this
manner, I shall leave the house at once,' that Mrs. Denley let
fall the coal-scuttle, and she says as how it gave her quite a
revulsion. But won't you walk in, Sir?"

"No; I came only to inquire after Mrs. Rodney's health; and
as, from what you have just told me, she certainly would not
be inclined to see me, I shall send up no message on the
subject." And so saying, Mr. Lacy took his departure.

On the Sunday following, a few minutes after the beginning of
evening service, he saw, gliding to her usual place, with a
noiseless step, the poor woman who during the past week had so
much occupied his thoughts. Her shrunken form and flushed
cheeks revealed the fatal progress of a disease which betrays
its victims all the more surely, by imparting to them, at
certain stages of its course, a false strength, that lures
them to exertions only serving to accelerate its fearful
termination. As Mr. Lacy mounted the pulpit, he breathed an
ardent prayer that something in the words he was going to
utter might carry a token of peace to this poor creature's
breast, a ray of light to her mind. In the course of his
sermon he introduced the following sentences:--

"When the heart of man is breaking, and his brain is reeling,
to whom should he turn, but to Him who said, 'Come unto me all
ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest?'
When the soul of man is shaken, and he feels himself forsaken,
to whom should he turn, but to Him who once cried out upon the
cross, 'My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?' When
phantom forms of horror, and shapeless dreams of terror,
assail the soul of man, to whom should he turn, but to Him who
was once in such great agony, that his sweat fell like drops
of blood upon the earth? When mocking tones of laughter are
wildly ringing round him, to whom should he turn, but to Him
who was jeered at, and reviled on the cross, because others he