Widows who have children must be brave for their sakes. They must dry the tears, or drive them back and weep only at convenient seasons, and indulge in sweet memories when present work and plans for the future do not demand all their powers. And who does not know that there are sorrows, as well as joys, with which none may intermeddle, not even those of our own households, much less the mere acquaintance or the stranger? At first, no anxious thought about worldly matters entered into Mrs. Manning's mind. Her husband had been deemed a prosperous man, and she had never been required to count the cost of any reasonable indulgence. His illness had been too short to allow of any conversation on business matters, and when, after his death, these were looked into, all was in order. There was an apparently flourishing concern. There were no debts. Why should not all go on as before? Just because the clear head was not there to plan, the guiding hand to direct. There was no one to step into that place and keep the well-balanced machinery going. And so the business went down, and it became necessary to wind-up the concern in order to secure a pittance which would just keep mother and children above absolute want. Years of struggling followed. The widow kept a brave heart, cheered on her children, and the two eldest being boys, these soon began to help, instead of to require assistance. The worst of the fight was over, when an unexpected ally came forward in the shape of Uncle Edward, her late husband's half-brother. He had always been ready to help, both with his counsel and his purse, and perhaps the more so because the widow never sought the latter kind of assistance. Uncle Edward was the eldest son of a first marriage, and twenty years the senior of the widow's late husband. Having lost those who were nearest to him, he began to look round amongst his relatives for some who should cheer his lonely fireside, and selected his half-brother's widow and family. Once more, Mrs. Manning found herself the virtual mistress of a lovely home, and surrounded by all the comforts to which she had been accustomed during her happy married days. Her boys were getting on in the world, and had wives and homes of their own. Her eldest daughter was also married, and though she had not made a good match, as the world estimates marriages, she was happy in her country home, and the true helpmeet of her husband. Mrs. Manning had felt keenly disappointed when the Rev. Charles Peyton made his appearance and asked for her daughter. But what could she do? The look of happy confidence on his good, true face told her that he did not come to the mother without being pretty well assured of what the daughter would say on the subject. When she put him off for a little while, until she had talked with Mary herself, it was with little hope that the consent now deferred could be finally withheld.