deeply
lamenting my "perversion", held, by some strange unpriestlike charity,
that my "unbelief" was but a passing cloud, sent as trial by "the Lord",
and soon to vanish again, leaving me in the "sunshine of faith". He
marvelled much, I learned afterwards, where I gained my readiness to work
heartily for others, and to remain serenely content amid the roughnesses
of my toiling life. To my great amusement I heard later that his elder
daughters, trained in strictest observance of all Church ceremonies, had
much discussed my non-attendance at the Sacrament, and had finally
arrived at the conclusion that I had committed some deadly sin, for which
the humble work which I undertook at their house was the appointed
penance, and that I was excluded from "the Blessed Sacrament" until the
penance was completed!

Very shortly after the illness above-mentioned, my mother went up to
town, whither I was soon to follow her, for now the spring had arrived,
and it was time to prepare our new home. How eagerly we had looked
forward to taking possession; how we had talked over our life together
and knitted on the new one we anticipated to the old one we remembered;
how we had planned out Mabel's training and arranged the duties that
should fall to the share of each! Day-dreams, that never were to be
realised!

But a brief space had passed since my mother's arrival in town, when I
received a telegram from my brother, stating that she was dangerously
ill, and summoning me at once to her bedside. As swiftly as express train
could carry me to London I was there, and found my darling in bed,
prostrate, the doctor only giving her three days to live. One moment's
sight I caught of her face, drawn and haggard; then as she saw me it all
changed into delight; "At last! now I can rest."

The brave spirit had at length broken down, never again to rise; the
action of her heart had failed, the valves no longer performed their
duty, and the bluish shade of forehead and neck told that the blood was
no longer sent pure and vivifying through the arteries. But her death was
not as near as the doctor had feared; "I do not think she can live
four-and-twenty hours," he said to me, after I had been with her for two
days. I told her his verdict, but it moved her little; "I do not feel
that I am going to die just yet," she said resolutely, and she was right.
There was an attack of fearful prostration, a very wrestling with death,
and then the grim shadow drew