tle table
lay the open Bible; and just beneath those weary, swollen _eyes_, were
the words, "They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more, neither
shall the sun light on them nor any heat; for the Lamb which is in the
midst of the throne shall feed them, and lead them to living fountains
of waters, and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes." But what
were those voices? Were they the voices of angels? Poor, shivering,
weary watchers! They might almost seem so to you. Anyhow, they were
very gentle, loving voices; and now they ask admittance. Mrs Franklin
and Mary entered; and, though not angels, they were come to do angels'
work, as messengers of love and mercy. Tea, and bread and butter, and
eggs, and divers other comforts came suddenly to light from under the
wide folds of the ladies' cloaks, and then the visitors sat down, and
stopped the outburst of tearful thanks by bright loving words of pity
and interest.

"Oh, ma'am! It is true, but I never knowed afore how true it was that
God will never forsake His own. I'd well nigh given up all for lost."

"Nay, mother," said Sally; "it wasn't you, it was me; _your_ faith held
out still."

"I was very, very sorry to hear of your troubles," said Mrs Franklin
after a pause; "but you mustn't despair; God will bring your poor son
back again."

"Oh! I believe it, ma'am, but it is hard not to doubt when one's cold
and hunger-bitten; he was such a good lad to us afore he took to that
miserable drink."

"Well, we must pray for him, and I daresay Mr and Mrs Rothwell will
stand your friends."

"Friends! Ma'am," cried the poor woman; "oh! You don't know, ma'am;
look, ma'am, at yon empty cupboard; there ought to be meat and drink
there, ma'am, and earned by honest labour. It is not an hour, ma'am,
since I was up at `The Firs,' taking back some work as my poor Sally did
for the young ladies (she's a beautiful sewer, is our Sally, there's
none to match her in all Hopeworth), and I'd a fortnight's charing as I
was owed for. I'd left the little ones with a kind neighbour, so I went
up to the house and asked to see the missus: she couldn't see me, but I
begged hard; and they showed me up into the drawing-room. Mrs Rothwell
was lying on a `sofy,' and there was wine on a table close by, and the
young ladies was all crowding round the fire, contradicting their
mother, and quarrelling with one another. `Oh! For goodness' sake
don't interrupt us,' says one of