s like a leaden weight on my feelings. Debt, or severe
privation, is inevitable. If, with eight hundred dollars, we only
come out even at the end of each year, what will be the result if our
income is suddenly reduced to five hundred?"

"Let us do what is right, Edward," said his wife, laying her hand upon
his arm, and looking into his face in her earnest, peculiar way. Her
voice, though it slightly trembled, had in it a tone of confidence,
which, with the words she had spoken, gave to the wavering heart of
Claire an instant feeling of strength.

"But what is right, Edith?" he asked.

"We know not now," was her reply, "but, if we earnestly desire to do
right, true perceptions will be given."

"A beautiful faith; but oh, how hard to realize!"

"No, Edward, not so very hard. We have never found it so: have we?"

Love and holy confidence were in her eyes.

"We have had some dark seasons, Edith," said Claire sadly.

"But, through darkest clouds has come the sunbeam. Our feet have
not wandered for want of light. Look back for a moment. How dark
all seemed when the question of leaving Jasper's service came up for
decision. And yet how clear a light shone when the time for action
came. Have you ever regretted what was then done, Edward?"

"Not in a sane moment," replied the young man. "O no, no, Edith!"
speaking more earnestly; "that, with one exception, was the most
important act of my life."

"With one exception?" Edith spoke in a tone of inquiry.

"Yes." Claire's voice was very tender, and touched with a slight
unsteadiness. "The _most_ important act of my life was"--

He paused and gazed lovingly into the face of his wife. She, now
comprehending him, laid, with a pure thrill of joy pervading her
bosom, her cheek to his--and thus, for the space of nearly a minute,
they sat motionless.

"May God bless you, Edith!" said Claire at length, fervently, lifting
his head as he spoke. "You are the good angel sent to go with me
through life. Ah! but for you, how far from the true path might my
feet have strayed! And now," he added, more calmly, "we will look at
the present difficulty steadily, and seek to know the right."

"The right way," said Edith, after she had to some extent repressed
the glad pulses that leaped to her husband's loving words, "is not
always the way in which we most desire to walk. Thorns, sometimes, are
at its entrance. But it grows pleasanter afterward."

"If we can find the right way, Edith,