the
sorrowful mother and her children, he had seen a sadder sight that day.
In the dim grey of the bitter morning he had caught a glimpse of a
crouching, squalid figure hurrying with uncertain yet eager steps--
whither? His heart stood still as he asked himself the question, "To
the foot-bridge over Deering Brook? To the gaping hole beyond?"

Stephen Grattan had not what is called "a rapid mind." He was not bold
to dare, nor strong to do. But in the single minute that passed before
he found himself on Deering Bridge he realised all the miserable
circumstances of Morely's fall, balanced the chances of life and death
for the poor wretch, and took his own life in his hand for his sake. He
knew that one more wicked deed had been added to the tavern-keeper's
catalogue of sins,--that the children's bread had been stolen, and the
father brutalised and then cast forth in the bitter cold, to live or
die, it mattered little which.

"To live, it must be," said Stephen; "at least for repentance--perhaps
for a better life. He must be saved. But how?"

Stephen could have touched him with his hand as he asked the question.
Could he win him by persuasion and gentle words, or must he master him
by force, and save him from the death on which he was rushing? Must he
wrestle with the madman's temporary strength?--perhaps yield to it, and
share his fate?

If these two men knew just what happened, when, by a sudden movement of
Stephen, they were brought face to face, they never spoke of it, even to
each other. Dolly's brief "Thank God!" as she opened the door to let
them in, was like heavenly music to Stephen's ear, he told her
afterwards; but never, even to Dolly, would he go beyond the opening of
the door in speaking of that day.

After three terrible hours, Stephen left Morely in a troubled sleep, and
set out for the log-house on the hill with the help so much needed. All
the way there he had been going over the question in his mind whether or
not he should tell Mrs Morely of her husband's situation. His first
thought had been that she must not know it; but, seeing Morely as he had
seen him for the last few hours, he feared to take upon himself the
responsibility of concealment. Should his troubled sleep grow calm and
continue, a few days' rest and care would suffice to place him where he
was when he left home; but, otherwise, none could tell what the end
might be. Weakened by illness, by want of food, and by his late e