the sleepless hours of the
preceding night, and though the future was far from opening clearly
to her straining vision, her mind rested in a well-assured confidence
that all things would work together for their good. She knew in whom
she trusted. On the Rock of Ages she had built the habitation where
dwelt her higher hopes; and the storms of this world had no power to
prevail against it.

How little dreamed gentle Fanny Elder--or Fanny Claire, as she
was called--when she laid her cheek lovingly to that of her sick
"father"--she knew him by no other name--and drew her arms around his
neck, that he was suffering alone on her account. In her unselfish
love, Claire felt a sweet compensation--while all he endured on her
account had the effect to draw her, as it were, into his very heart.

As quickly as it could be done, Mrs. Claire got through with the most
pressing of her morning duties, and then, the older children away to
school, she came and sat down by her husband's bedside, and took his
hand in hers. As he looked into her face, pale from sleeplessness and
anxiety, tears filled his eyes.

"O, Edie!" said he, his voice tremulous with feeling, "isn't this
disheartening? What _are_ we to do?"

"_He_ careth for us," was the low, calmly spoken reply; and, as Edith
lifted a finger upward, a ray of heavenly confidence beamed in her
countenance.

"I know, Edie; I know, but"--

The sick man left his sentence unfinished. A heavy sigh marking his
state of doubt and darkness.

"We must feel as well as know, Edward," said his wife. "God is good.
In looking back through all our past life, does not the retrospection
lead to this undoubting conclusion? I am sure you will say yes. Has
he not, in every case, proved better to us than all our fears?--Why,
then, should we distrust him now? In the beautiful language of Cowper,
let us say in these dark seasons--

'Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.'

"Shall we doubt the sun's existence, because the night has fallen? No,
dear husband, no! There are bright stars smiling above us in token of
his unerring return. We know that the morning cometh after a season of
darkness; and so, after our spirits have lingered awhile in the realm
of shadows, the light will brea