was silent not knowing what to say.

"O do not look so hopeless, dear Mrs. Tinknor," said Little Wolf
eagerly, "tell me there is something to live for."

"We may, to be good, and do good," said Mrs. Tinknor slowly, as if to
make quite sure of answering wisely.

Little Wolf caught at the words, "that is just what you are doing,"
she said, "and why may not I? I know you think I could not do as you
have done; but you do not know how my heart is in this thing. I did
not know myself until the trial came, why, Mrs. Tinknor, I could
sacrifice my soul for his sake."

"O darling, darling, I cannot bear to hear you say so. I cannot bear
to have you sacrifice yourself to one who would not even control a
vitiated appetite for your sake. Believe me you will regret it, if you
become the wife of an inebriate."

"O he is not that, he is not that."

"He may not have come to that yet, dear child, but you have seen and
heard enough to convince you that he is on the road from which few
turn back. He has already felt the debasing effects of intoxicating
drink and still he keeps on, and shall that noble soul of yours be for
a whole life time bound to one with whom eventually there can be no
sympathy? God forbid. You may remember, although you were very young,
what your dear mother's sufferings were; could she speak to you now,
what think you would be her advice?"

"O my dear, patient, loving, broken hearted mother," and Little Wolf
burst into a paroxysm of tears.

Mrs. Tinknor leaned very tenderly over her young friend and kissed her
cheek, and, after this little act of love and sympathy, she went down
stairs, without so much as having hinted at the object for which she
came. However to the surprise of all, Little Wolf spent the evening in
the parlor with her guests, and at her earnest solicitation, they
consented to delay their intended departure for a few days.

It was a sore disappointment to Edward Sherman to be obliged to meet
Little Wolf day after day under the watchful eye of Tom Tinknor. But,
to Little Wolf it was an infinite relief, for Mrs. Tinknor's words
"think no more of one who if you were to become his wife, would make
your life beyond all expression, miserable," rang continually in her
ears: and, while her heart prompted her to a different course, her
intellect in a measure approved the advice. Consequently she naturally
shrank from a private interview, before her mind was fully prepared to
meet the exigency.

T