formed the centre
table. The seats were of the same material, and were substantial enough,
while the extreme cold weather lasted. On the table was placed the
entertainment provided by Emily, to which the party did all possible
justice, considering that they had just risen from a plentiful dinner at
home. After the feast, Robert and Alfred entertained them with feats of
agility on the ice, dragging one or the other of the children after them
upon the sled, and when they returned home, even Emily's usually pale
cheeks were in a glow.

Towards evening Agnes began to be uneasy, and to watch at the window for
her aunt's return. "I will not see aunty, cousin Emily," she said, "but
I cannot go to bed till I hear how Lewie is to-night."

At length her uncle and aunt returned, and Agnes heard that her little
brother was very ill; but the doctor was of opinion that his disease was
a brain fever, and therefore there was no danger of contagion. Agnes
went to bed with a heavy heart, and cried herself to sleep.

The next morning, as soon as breakfast was over, Mrs. Wharton again
ordered the sleigh and drove to "the Hemlocks." She found Mrs. Elwyn in
a state bordering on distraction.

"Oh, Ellen," she said, "how I have wanted you! Lewie has had a night of
dreadful suffering, and now he is unconscious. He does not know me,
Ellen! He does not hear me when I call. I think he does not see. Oh,
Ellen, what would life be to me if I lose my darling. And now I want you
to _pray!_ You can pray, Ellen, and God answers your prayers. Pray for
the life of my child! Mammy prays, but she will only say, 'The will of
the Lord be done!'"

"And I can say no more, Ellen. I _do_ pray; I _have_ prayed, that your
darling boy's life may be spared, if it be the will of God, but more
than that I cannot say."

"And what if it be His will to take my darling from me, Ellen?"

"Then, Harriet, I hope you might learn to acquiesce without a murmur,
and to say from your heart, 'It is the Lord, let Him do what seemeth to
Him good.'"

"No, Ellen, never! I cannot contemplate the bare possibility of losing
my boy. If you will not pray as I wish, I will try to pray myself;" and
falling on her knees, she prayed for the life of her child. "Take
whatever else thou wilt, oh God," she cried, "but oh, spare me my
child."

"Harriet, this seems to me most horrible impiety," said Mrs. Wharton,
"to ask God to grant your desires, whether agreeable to His will, or
not; I s