ould not weep!"

"Leave her, my dear friend," said I, "in the hands of Him who sees
deeper into the heart than it is possible for our eyes to penetrate. Her
feet have left the soft, flowery ways they trod for a time, and turned
into rough paths, where every footfall is upon sharp stones; but it
may be that a blessed land is smiling beyond, he has been astray in the
world, and God may only be leading her homeward by the way of sorrow."

Mrs. Floyd wept freely as I talked.

"His will be done," she said, sobbing.

"Your daughter," said I, taking the occasion to bear my testimony on the
favorable side, "has been wronged without question. She was doubtless
imprudent, but not sinful; and the present attempt to disgrace her I
regard as a cruel wrong. It will recoil, I trust, in a way not dreamed
of."

"O Doctor, let me thank you for such words."

And Mrs. Floyd caught my arm with an eager movement.

"I speak soberly, madam, and from observation and reflection. And I
trust to see Delia live and triumph over her enemies."

"Won't you talk with the Squire, Doctor?" She still grasped my arm. "He
will not hear a word from me in favor of Delia. Mr. Dewey has completely
blinded him."

"Wait patiently, Mrs. Floyd," said I, in a tone of encouragement. "Your
daughter is not without friends. There are those upon her side, who
have the will and the power to defend her; and they will defend her, I
believe successfully."

A sigh fluttered through the room, causing us both to turn quickly
towards the bed on which Mrs. Dewey was lying. Her lips were moving
slightly; but no change appeared on her death-like face. I laid my
fingers upon her wrist, and searched for her pulse. It was very low and
thread-like; but with more vitality than on the occasion of my first
visit to her in the morning.

"The signs are favorable."

Mrs. Floyd did not respond. She was looking at her daughter with an
expression of unutterable grief upon her countenance.

I did not attempt to give medicine, but left unerring nature to do her
own work.

Mrs. Dewey did not again look upon the faces of her dead children. They
were buried ere her mind awoke to any knowledge of passing events. I
was at the funeral, and closely observed her husband. He appeared very
sober, and shed some tears at the grave, when the little coffins were
lowered together into the earth.

It was a week before Mrs. Dewey was clearly conscious of external
things. I visited her every da