fellow creature. Every one knows how slow the heart of wife or child is
to entertain such a terrible suspicion against a husband or a parent,
and that the discovery of their guilt comes upon the spirit with
a weight of distress and agony that is great in proportion to the
confidence felt in them.

The affectionate family in question had just concluded their simple act
of evening worship, and were seated around a dull fire, looking forward
in deep dejection to the awful event of the following day. The silence
that prevailed was only broken by an occasional sob from the girls, or
a deep sigh from young Con, who, with his mother, had not long been
returned from Ballynafail, where they had gone to make preparations for
the old man's defence. His chair stood by the fire, in its usual place,
and as they looked upon it from time to time, they could not prevent
their grief from bursting out afresh. The mother, on this occasion,
found the usual grounds for comfort taken away from both herself and
them--we mean, the husband's innocence. She consequently had but one
principle to rely on--that of single dependence upon God, and obedience
to His sovereign will, however bitter the task might be, and so she told
them.

"It's a great thrial to us, children," she observed; "an' it's only
natural we should feel it. I do not bid you to stop cryin', my poor
girls, because it would be very strange if you didn't cry. Still, let
us not forget that it's our duty to bow down humbly before whatever
misfortune--an' this is indeed a woeful one--that it pleases God in His
wisdom (or, may be, in His mercy), to lay in our way. That's all we can
do now, God help us--an' a hard thrial it is--for when we think of what
he was to us--of his kindness--his affection!----"

Her own voice became infirm, and, instead of proceeding, she paused a
moment, and then giving one long, convulsive sob, that rushed up from
her very heart, she wept out long and bitterly. The grief now became
a wail; and were it not for the presence of Con, who, however, could
scarcely maintain a firm voice himself, the sorrow-worn mother and her
unhappy daughters would have scarcely known when to cease.

"Mother dear!" he exclaimed--"what use is in this? You began with givin'
us a good advice, an' you ended with settin' us a bad example! Oh,
mother, darlin', forgive me the word--never, never since we remember
anything, did you ever set us a bad example."

"Con dear, I bore up as lon