xcess,
Stephen well knew the chances were against his recovery; and ought not
his wife to be made aware of his situation? The first glance at Mrs
Morely's pale face decided him. She must not know of this new misery
that had befallen her husband, at least not now.

So it was no wonder that Stephen turned towards home with a sad face and
a heavy heart, knowing all this. He had not been so downcast for a long
time. It broke his heart to think of poor Morely. Even the misery and
destitution that seemed to lie before the poor wife and children were
nothing to this; and, as he dragged himself through the heavy snow,
panting and breathless, he was praying, as even good men cannot always
pray, with an urgency that would take no denial, that this poor soul
might have space for repentance,--that he might not be suffered to go
down into endless death. He did not use many words. "Save him, Lord,
for Thy Name's sake--for Thine own Name's sake, Lord!" These were
nearly all. But his hand was on the hem of the Lord's garment.
Hundreds of times the cry arose. Sometimes he spoke aloud in his agony,
never knowing it, never seeing the wondering looks that followed him
over the bridge and up the street to his own door.

"Well, Dolly!" he said, faintly, going in.

Dolly was never a woman of many words; she nodded her head towards the
closed door and said, "A leetle quieter, if anything."

"Thank God!" said Stephen, and the tears ran down his brown old face
with a rush that he could not restrain. Dolly did not try to comfort
him. She did better than that; she took from the stove a vessel
containing soup, and having poured some into a basin and broken some
bread into it, she set it before him, saying, "It's no wonder you feel
miserable. Eat this."

"Can I, do you suppose?" said Stephen.

"You've got to!" said Dolly, taking such an attitude as a hen-sparrow
might be supposed to assume should she see fit to threaten a barn-yard
fowl. And he did eat it, every drop.

"I feel better," he said, with a grateful sigh.

"I expect so," said Dolly, briefly, as she removed the basin. It was
Mrs Grattan's acknowledged "object in life," her recognised "mission,"
to provide her husband with "something good to eat." In the old days,
when Stephen's reformation was new, she had many a time satisfied
herself with a crust, that he might have food to strengthen him to
resist the old fierce craving for stimulants, and thus doing, she
helpe