il, which he little had imagined.

"Bear up, Roger; here, goodman, take the child, and don't look quite so
downcast; come what may, I'll share your cares, and you shall halve my
pleasures; we will fight it out together."

Moreover, cross, and fidgetty, and scolding, as Mary had been ever
heretofore, to her meek step-daughter Grace, all at once, as if just to
disappoint any preconcerted theory, now that actual calamity was come,
she turned to be a kind good mother to her. Roger and his daughter could
scarcely believe their ears.

"Grace, dear, I know you're a sensible good girl, try and cheer your
father." And then the step-dame added,

"There now, just run up, fetch your prayer-book down, and read a little
to us all to do us good."--The fair, affectionate girl, unused to the
accents of kindness, could not forbear flinging her arms round Mary
Acton's neck, and loving her, as Ruth loved Naomi.

Then with a heavenly smile upon her face, and a happy heart within her
to keep the smile alight, her gentle voice read these words--it will do
us good to read them too:

"Out of the deep have I called unto thee, O Lord: Lord, hear my voice.
O let thine ears consider well the voice of my complaint.
If thou, Lord, wilt be extreme to mark what is done amiss,
O Lord, who may abide it?
Because there is mercy with thee; therefore shall thou be feared.
I look for the Lord, my soul doth wait for him: in his word is my trust.
My soul fleeth unto the Lord, before the morning watch,
before the morning watch.
O Israel, trust in the Lord: for with the Lord there is mercy:
and with him is plenteous redemption.
And he shall redeem Israel from all his sins."

"Isn't the last word 'troubles,' child? look again; I think it's
'troubles' either there, or leastways in the Bible-psalm."

"No, father, sins, 'from all his sins;' and 'iniquities' in the
Bible-version--look, father."

"Well, girl, well; I wish it had been 'troubles;' 'from all his
troubles' is a better thought to my mind: God wot, I have plenty on 'em,
and a little lot of gold would save us from them all."

"Gold, father? no, my father--God."

"I tell you, child," said Roger, ever vacillating in his strong
temptation between habitual religion and the new-caught lust of money,
"if only on a sudden I could get gold by hook or by crook, all my cares
and all your troubles would be over on the instant."

"Oh, dear father, do not hope so; and do n