t, won't you?'

'I don't want to live at all if you do not live!' was the passionate
answer.

'For our child's sake, Joel.'

No reply.

'What a kind, loving husband you have been to me--been to me always! I
loved you--loved you before you knew it, Joel.' Here she opened her eyes
languidly, and essayed to turn them on him. 'But we have not lived
right.'

There was still no response, save by audible sobs.

'I think I have made my peace with God. Are you glad, Joel?'

'Now I don't care what happens, if you only feel happy!' he cried. 'But
to have you die in distress of mind! It would drive me crazy.'

'Give God the praise, Joel. I _am_ happy. It is so sweet to trust in
Him! You won't neglect--neglect--you won't----' She fell into a stupor,
from which she never fully awoke. Although she lived another day, she
exhibited no signs of consciousness. Joel fancied that she was aware of
his presence; but she never spoke again.

The funeral was attended by a large concourse of people--very different
from that of Joel's mother, whom three selectmen followed to the grave.
When it was over, Joel and his daughter went back to their desolate
house, while the village set to work to speculate as to whom the widower
would marry. '_Such_ a match! _So_ rich, and only one child! Emily Parks
would make him a good wife; only Emily was rather old--at least
twenty-seven or eight--and Mr. Burns would marry a young girl, of
course. Why shouldn't he, with the amount of money he had? He might take
a fancy to Julia Davis--she had just left school.' 'Why shouldn't he
marry Lizzie?' said Mrs. Barron to herself. And Lizzie was sent over
that very day to 'see to things' for Mr. Burns.

His trials were not ended. Sarah, who was now in her twelfth year, was
taken ill the following week. The fever was no doubt going through the
family, said the doctors. Joel's faith in medical men was a good deal
shaken, but he had to call them in, and Sarah grew worse. Three weeks
she lay, submitting to the old treatment, waiting for the 'crisis.' Joel
could endure it no longer. He started for New-Haven, changing horses
every ten miles. He found the doctor he went in quest of at home; but he
said it was impossible for him to go.

'I have lost my wife, and shall lose my child,' said Joel Burns
hoarsely.

'My friend,' said the doctor in a mild tone, 'people are dying every
where. I have my own patients, whom I ought not to neglect.'

'Go with me, I, implore y