ntly, and now as she lifted her eyes, softened
with this sudden remembrance, he bounced out of his chair, and set his
cane down sharply on the hearth.

"Elizabeth Dering, you're not the woman I thought you were. You're not
like your father, and I'm glad of that. I came here to offer you help,
because I know for a certainty that Robert was in trouble, and I see
that you are no more pleased to see me, than I was at the prospect of
seeing you. That I have been angry with my nephew for many years, you
know well enough, but there's no use denying that his sudden death has
touched me, and I want to do something for his family. To-night you are
in no condition to talk, no more am I; so if you will show me my room I
will go to it immediately."

Mrs. Dering arose also, with relief plainly visible in her face, and
after finding that he had taken an early supper before leaving the city,
excused herself to arrange for his comfort during the night.

Several hours later, when the household had forgotten its grief in
slumber, and nothing disturbed the stillness of the night, but an
occasional frog, and the lonesome sighing of the wind through the bare
trees, two persons found it extremely difficult to sleep. In Mrs.
Dering's room the fire lay in dying embers on the hearth, and in a low
chair before it, sat the pale mother and widow, with no need now to hide
her grief, lest other hearts were made sad, for no one was near but
Jean, and she slept soundly, with sorrow lost in the oblivion of dreams.
So feeling for the first time, the liberty of tears, that poor, aching
heart broke its stern control, and burying her face, the sorrowing woman
wept, praying, as the tears rolled down her cheeks, that they might not
be shed in bitterness or rebellion, and that her heart, through all its
pain, might still feel and know, "what is, is best." When the violence
of her grief had expended itself, and she could lift her face to view
calmly her loss and new responsibilities, the unvoiced prayer of her
heart was: "O God, help me; I cannot work alone; let me know what to do;
help me to think and act aright, and strengthen my trembling faith, that
whatever may come to me, I can say: 'God knows it is for the best.'"

Even as she prayed, help came to her, for Olive could not sleep, and
feeling assured that her mother was awake, had come noiselessly in, and
now stood by her.

"Mama, I cannot sleep either; let me stay with you."

"Olive, my child, it is