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CHAPTER XVII.

DELUSIONS DISPELLED.

RS. HILL had buried her baby, and the close and kind attentions of Mr. and Mrs. Field had kept less faithful friends away, so that the influences for good had for a time another opportunity. But there were days when even they could not be always at hand, and Jane had learned to find resources against thought and conscience.

Matthew did not come, neither had Benjamin Field heard from him again, and the suspense was trying. The sufferings of the little girl, "father's pet," were a perpetual reproach to her unhappy mother, and often she pretended that occupation about her household duties kept her from the child's bedside.

For Daisy was very weak and pale, and did not care to get up, though the doctor had said she might run about again, provided she was careful not to play too roughly.

And you must mind and not knock her about," said he to her brother, who heard joyfully that his little playmate might come down-stairs.

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I don't knock her about," said the boy, his eager smiles turning to indignant frowns; "it was- He paused suddenly, his face crimsoned, and he hid it in Daisy's pillow. "Well, my child," said the doctor, "I'm glad to see that you cannot tell a falsehood without feeling ashamed of it. How could your sister get such a hurt except in some rough gambols that you got up to together? Well, well, you'll both be careful in future, I dare say. Mrs. Hill, if you could borrow somebody's perambulator, a ride would do the little

maid good." And so the doctor felt it safe now to give up the case into the mother's hands. Who could bring a sick child round so well as a kind and watchful mother?

Mrs. Hill said nothing. She could not comfortably look her own children in the face, and a sort of fear, almost dislike, sprang up against her own boy, who had so nearly defended himself at her expense.

And had she not allowed a false imputation to rest upon him? How would he feel towards her? She felt despicable in his eyes, and in her own; and, unsoftened by true penitence, made herself harder and colder than ever.

ment.

Daisy begged to lie still; no perambulator was sought forMrs. Hill did not like "borrowing;" and there was no improveOften the little feverish lips would utter the dear name of "father," and Jane knew that a kind word from her would bring him to that bedside, but she would not speak or write it, and the little one longed in vain. It was affecting to see how the children, in the habit of former days, tried to keep themselves and their room tidy even now.

'Brother, what are you doing?" Daisy asked one day, when he had been very quiet for some time.

"Only cutting out some letters," said he; "I'll show you soon." So Daisy tried to be patient. At last he jumped up from the floor, bringing his slate and showing her some letters cut out of any odd papers or advertisements, such as are constantly left at people's doors. "You can't read it, Daisy, but I can. I've written it on my slate first to be sure.

I've

got all the letters, and now I'll read them to you." So, feeling very proud and happy, he read :

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DEAR FATHER, COME HOME; DAISY WANTS YOU.'" "Oh, how nice!" cried Daisy, her bright eyes dilating. "Will he come?"

"I hope so. I'm going to make Mr. Field send it in a

letter he knows where. I shall stick them on a paper if I can find a bit."

"Will mother let you?" asked his sister, apprehensively.

"I haven't told her; I don't want to," he replied, with a cloudy face. "You mustn't tell her either." After a long search in every place he could think of, a half sheet of white paper was found; he begged a morsel of gum, and the letters, in tolerable order, were stuck upon it. He was always ready to run on errands when anything was wanted, and impatiently waited his opportunity.

At last it came, and, running into Mr. Field's, he hastily confided the paper to Mrs. Field, begging her to get it sent as soon as possible, for poor Daisy sadly wanted her father, and so did he. Mrs. Field, deeply touched, clasped the little fellow in her arms, and the tears came into the eyes of both.

"Oh, if mother would do so," said he; "but I must run back," and rubbing away the drops, he set off amidst assurances that the letter should go that day. And it did so.

'Well!" said Daisy, eagerly, as, out of breath, he rushed up to her side.

"It's all right; it will go," said he.

"And father will come and see Daisy again. Oh, brother, but what if I was to go away like baby-would you mind?" said she, softly.

"Oh, Daisy, don't say that; I can't bear it," said the boy, quickly.

"I won't if you don't like, but it was only Jesus taking her away in her sleep, because perhaps He thought mother wasn't -couldn't mind her well enough," she added, hesitatingly.

“But I'm minding you, He needn't come for you," said the brother, anxiously.

"Where's your mother, children?" asked a loud, sharp voice of some one who stood looking on them from the end