ent one from that to which she has been accustomed."

"As to removing her from home, my house shall be her home, and my wife
shall supply the place of her mother."

"I will give to your kind proposal the consideration which it deserves; but
I must say, again, that it is very doubtful whether I can bring myself to
consent to it."

"I can't say that I have any doubt about the matter," said her husband, who
entered the room as she uttered the last remark. "To be plain, my dear
brother, if there were no other reasons against the plan, I should not dare
to place her in a family where the voice of prayer is not heard, especially
as her character is now in process of formation."

Richard was silent. At first, he felt an emotion of anger; but he
remembered that they were in the room in which their excellent father was
accustomed to assemble his family each morning and evening for social
worship. On no occasion was that worship neglected, even for a single day.
After a long silence, he remarked, "You may think better of it, my
brother," and retired to his room.

* * * *

CHAPTER II.

For some time after Richard Clifton had exchanged the quiet of agriculture
for the bustle of commercial life, he read his Bible daily, and retained
the habit of secret prayer which had been so carefully taught him in
childhood. But, at length, the Bible began to be neglected, and the altar
of mammon was substituted for the altar of God. In his business
transactions, the laws of integrity were never disregarded, nor was his
respect and reverence for religion laid aside, but he had no time to be
religious. When he became the head of a family, the Word of God lay
unopened on his parlor table, and family worship was a thing unknown.
Though God had guarded him at home and abroad, on the sea and on the land,
and had made him rich even to the extent of his most sanguine expectations,
yet he had forgotten the source of his prosperity, and had never bowed his
knee in thanksgiving. The education of his wife, a daughter of one of the
"merchant princes," had been such that she found nothing to surprise or
shock her in the practical atheism of her husband's course.

On the morning after the occurrence of the events recorded in the chapter
above, as Susan returned from the village post-office, she handed her uncle
a letter. Having perused it, he remarked--

"I must return to the city tomorrow. Will you go with me, Susan?"

"I s