len again? She could not hope for immediate
help from him, even if he were to hold firm after his arrival in
Montreal and get immediate employment. How were the next few weeks to
be got through? She thought and planned, till she grew weary and
discouraged; but she never quite let go of the hope that had come to her
through the children's reading in the afternoon. He who had cast out
devils, He who had raised the dead, could He not also save her husband?
He who had been merciful to the poor woman who trusted in Him, would He
not be merciful to her? Was not His love unchanged, and were not His
promises the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever? She clung to the
thoughts of the wonderful works of Jesus, going over and over them in
her mind, turning the poor woman's words into prayer to suit her own
case; and so the night wore away.

Sophy slept now and then; but she might just as well have kept awake,
for in her dreams she fancied she was lost in the snow, and that she was
struggling on through it with the baby in her arms. The night seemed as
long as a whole winter to her, she told her mother afterwards; but it
came to an end at last.

The first thing that Mrs Morely saw, on waking from a momentary
slumber, was her little daughter taking a coverlet from the bed to
fasten it over the low window. She must have fallen asleep again; for
the next thing she saw was Sophy standing by her bed, with a cup of tea
and a bit of toast in her hand. There was a small, bright fire on the
hearth; but there was no other light in the room. It seemed early to
her; but the children were all awake, and clamouring to be allowed to
rise, notwithstanding their sister's entreaties that they would lie
still till the room was warm. But little Harry was cold and hungry, and
would not be persuaded; and at last he made a rush towards his mother's
bed. In passing the window he caught hold of the coverlet that hung
over it; and down it fell, and the bright sunlight streamed in. A cry
of surprise, which soon changed to indignation, burst from the children.

"Mother," exclaimed Sophy, entreatingly, "I did it to keep out the cold,
and to make the day seem shorter."

"But, dreary as the days are, surely the nights are drearier," said her
mother, wonderingly.

"Yes, mother; I know--but--" She paused. What could she say, but that
she wished to keep the children asleep, because there was so little to
give them when they awoke? She saw fro