Not that even a brick, followed by the contents of a dozen chimneys, could have really overthrown the happiness of home had it been based on a solid foundation, but when tempers are so touchy that one must feel "like walking on eggs" when near them, and resolutions are so weak that they must not be risked by a temptation, the security is, indeed, small against the outbreak of the one and the fall of the other. The same remedy alone can avail either; a heart brought. under the power of God's grace may conquer any temper and bring resolution safe through any danger. Less will no more bind the strong enemies of peace than the green withes of the Philistines the limbs of Samson.

However, everything now testified that Mrs. Hill was in a most propitious mood, and meant that everything should show it.

Four o'clock. The children stationed themselves at the bright window, so clean that you could scarcely tell there was any glass to look through; the baby's clean bib was tied on; the little heads were smoothed again, and the kettle was placed in a convenient attitude for its song in due time.

Five o'clock. Perhaps Matthew might not be able to walk very fast yet, but presently, of course, he would get home.

Six o'clock. The children were tired of watching after two wonderfully patient hours, and, pitying them, their mother bade them come and have tea, and then they would enjoy seeing father get his by-and-by.

A disagreeable, cross sensation was beginning to rise that, after all, Matthew might choose to call somewhere else before coming home.

"May we have some of the cakes, mother?"

"Oh yes, I thought- But it doesn't matter, we can eat them ourselves." But Mrs. Hill ate not any. In vain, after a

D

hasty tea, the children resumed their watch; they had to go, bitterly disappointed, to bed.

The last little one was asleep, and Mrs. Hill had leisure to reflect. She had been softening all the day; she had intended to surprise her husband with a real welcome when no one else should see her come down from "the high horse" of her indignant displeasure, and, if he seemed really to regret the past, she would certainly forgive and forget, and they would be happy once more.

But this delay overthrew all her calculations, and she was getting extremely uncomfortable, when a gentle tap announced a visitor. She started and sprang forward, to be met by the kind, pleasant faces of Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin Field.

"Didn't you say that Matthew would be out of the infirmary to-day?" she asked, with as much composure as she could.

"Yes, is he not come?" replied and asked Benjamin, with a kind of gasp of dismay, adding kindly, "My wife and I couldn't help stepping down just to see if we should all have a bit of thanksgiving together."

"You must have been mistaken," faltered Mrs. Hill; "it couldn't be to-day."

"Well, I am very sorry," said Mr. Field; "but something may have happened to keep him another day or so. I'll go over the first thing in the morning and see, so we must bear our disappointment as well as we can."

But Benjamin was something more than disappointed, and nothing but the distance prevented him from going at once, but the next morning's post explained the mystery. A letter from Matthew Hill ran thus:

"DEAR FRIEND,-I am out of ward, and am very much obliged to everybody who has shown me kindness. I have

1

never heard nor seen any sign that I should be welcome at home, and, as change of air will be good for me, I have determined to get it. I shall work somewhere and send my earnings to my family, so no one need think evil of me for going. Please give my love to my dear children, and don't let them forget me, and tell their mother to use any money of mine as she thinks best.

"I am, dear friend,
"Yours truly,

"MATTHEW HILL.

"To Mr. Field,
"Foreman at

"

Mr. Field would almost as soon have stood in the pillory as convey this miserable intelligence to the waiting wife; but it must be done, and as tenderly as true and delicate feeling could do it, it was done.

It's all one. If he don't care, no more do I," said Mrs. Hill, with a desperate effort to avoid choking: "so, if you please, Mr. Field, we'll say no more about it."

Never was the washing done so quickly as on that morning, never did clothes get such a wringing, and all in such solemn' silence, while the children, awed and quiet, felt that something terrible had happened.

Kind Mrs. Oakland was soon with the stricken woman, but no sign of the disturbance within was allowed to betray the truth.

"Dear Jane," said Mrs. Oakland, "you feel more than you say, and I should not like to suppose you indifferent to this unexpected conduct. But let us hope the best. Our good friend Mr. Field will be sure to find him, and then a few lines from you will set all right."

Jane was "much obliged, but she didn't want any inter

ference; he could come back when he pleased, and she should never ask him. If he chose to act in such a brutish manner she and the children were better without him, that was all."

And the unhappy woman shut herself up again in her proud temper, desperately parrying any sympathy that penetrated beyond the external facts of the case, but accepting all that could be offered to her as the victim of a husband's selfishness and ingratitude, the hardworking mother of forsaken children, and the most patient and persecuted of modern martyrs.

Mrs. Oakland and the Fields thought they saw deeper into her heart, and believed that real feeling, dreadful mortification, and wounded self-love strove with natural affection in a perpetual tempest there, without anything to comfort or subdue; and they prayed that the only One who can go where He will and act as He sees best, would breathe over the storm of passion, and open the stubborn heart to the influences of love and peace.

In the meantime they left no means untried to trace the misguided truant, and many were the fruitless errands to different places where it was probable he might seek employ

His letter spoke of sending his earnings to his family, and they then hoped for some clue; but the earnings arrived in the form of a note in an envelope addressed to Mr. Field, with the request that it might be given to "Mrs. Hill," and the information that he was not yet in full health, and should go to "foreign parts."

37

CHAPTER VII.

EVIL COMMUNICATIONS.

ELL to be sure, Mrs. Hill, you do bear your troubles! Mrs. Smith, she says to me, says she, If there's a true hero in the world it's Mrs. Hill; she don't ask nobody's pity, nor nobody's help, but she goes and works herself to death before anybody will hear a complaint.' That's true, I says, but then it'll tell inwardly, poor thing, and we do feel it a duty, Mrs. Hill, to warn you, because you don't look the woman you did three months ago, and you'll be in your grave before you know it. You'll excuse me for venturing to speak, because it seems a liberty like; but, as I says, if it's done respectful and in real kindness, Mrs. Hill's too good a woman to take it amiss."

Mrs. Hill's countenance underwent several changes during this unexpected speech. She had never been a gossip, and this woman, and the set to which she was supposed to belong, had been considered altogether beneath her notice. Neither had any of the neighbours presumed to make free with her and her griefs to her face. But she was not insensible to the charm of notoriety among them, if it took a form so flattering to her self-love, and her sense of injury and oppression.

She had opened the door, and assumed the coldest expression of reserve when she perceived her visitor, but the knock had been modest, and the woman stood so respectfully