the large
round-hand note, with nursery spelling and folding, in which Johnnie
announced that he had a little brother.

An interval of peace to Violet ensued. Arthur did not nurse her as in
old times; but he was gentle and kind, and was the more with her as the
cough, which had never been entirely removed, was renewed by a chill in
the first cold of September. All went well till the babe was a week old,
when Arthur suddenly announced his intention of asking for a fortnight's
leave, as he was obliged to go to Boulogne on business.

Here was a fresh thunderbolt. Violet guessed that Mr. Gardner was there,
and was convinced that, whatever might be Arthur's present designs,
he would come back having taken a house at Boulogne. He answered her
imploring look by telling her not to worry herself; he hoped to get
'quit of the concern,' and, at any rate, could not help going. She
suggested that his cough would bear no liberties; he said, change of air
would take it off, and scouted her entreaty that he would consult Mr.
Harding. Another morning, a kind careless farewell, he was gone!

Poor Violet drew the coverlet over her head; her heart failed her, and
she craved that her throbbing sinking weakness and feverish anxiety
might bring her to her final rest. When she glanced over the future, her
husband deteriorating, and his love closed up from her; her children
led astray by evil influences of a foreign soil; Johnnie, perhaps, only
saved by separation--Johnnie, her precious comforter; herself far from
every friend, every support, without security of church ordinances--all
looked so utterly wretched that, as her pulses beat, and every sensation
of illness was aggravated, she almost rejoiced in the danger she felt
approaching.

Nothing but her infant's voice could have recalled her to a calmer mind,
and brought back the sense that she was bound to earth by her children.
She repented as of impatience and selfishness, called back her
resolution, and sought for soothing. It came. She had taught herself the
dominion over her mind in which she had once been so deficient. Vexing
cares and restless imaginings were driven back by echoes of hymns and
psalms and faithful promises, as she lay calm and resigned, in her
weakness and solitude, and her babe slept tranquilly in her bosom, and
Johnnie brought his books and histories of his sisters; and she could
smile in thankfulness at their loveliness of to-day, only in prayer
concerning hersel