as expressing indifference for himself, and his
quick retort involved, palpably, the same impression in regard to
his wife.

Madeline answered not farther, but her husband's words were not
forgotten--"My children will feel my loss." This thought became so
present to her mind, that none other could, for a space, come into
manifest perception. The mother's heart began quickening into life a
sense of the mother's duty. Thus it was, when her oldest
child--named for herself, and with as loving and dependent a
nature--opened the chamber door, and coming up to her father, made
some request that he did not approve. To the mother's mind, her
desire was one that ought to have been granted; and, she felt, in an
instant, that the manner, as well as the fact of the father's
denial, were both unkind, and that Madeline's heart would be almost
broken. She did not err in this. The child went sobbing from the
room.

How distinctly came before the mind of Mrs. Leslie a picture of the
past. She was, for a time, back in her father's house; and she felt,
for a time, the ever-present, considerate, loving kindness of one
who had made all sunshine in that early home. Slowly came back the
mind of Mrs. Leslie to the present, and she said to herself, not
passively, like one borne on the current of a down-rushing stream,
but resolutely, as one with a purpose to struggle--to suffer, and
yet be strong--

"Yes; my children will feel my loss. I could pass away and be at
rest. I could lie me down and sleep sweetly in the grave. But, is
all my work done? Can I leave these little ones to his tender mer--"

She checked herself in the mental utterance of this sentiment, which
referred to her husband. But, the feeling was in her heart; and it
inspired her with a new purpose. Her thought, turned from herself,
and fixed, with a yearning love upon her children, gave to the blood
a quicker motion through the veins, and to her mind a new activity.
She could no longer remain passive, as she had been for hours,
brooding over her own unhappy state, but arose and left her chamber.
In another room she found her unhappy child, who had gone off to
brood alone over her disappointment, and to weep where none could
see her.

"Madeline, dear!" said the mother, in a loving, sympathetic voice.

Instantly the child flung herself into her arms, and laid her face,
sobbing, upon her bosom.

Gently, yet wisely--for there came, in that moment, to Mrs. Leslie,
a clear pe