A few moments brought him panting to the abode described. Raising the latch, one bound brought him to the centre of the room. Amy uttered a cry of joy, and would have sprung to meet him, but her little limbs, weakened by long fasting, now stiff with cold, refused to support her trembling frame, and staggering forward, she fell upon the hard, damp floor, ere his outstretched arms could save her. Clasping her to his heart, he cried, “Amy, dear—dear sister! don’t, don’t die! see, I have brought you bread!” and he seized the loaf, which had rolled upon the floor, broke, and pressed some to her quivering lips. Raising her blue eyes to his, and clasping her little cold arms about his neck, she murmured, “Oh, Buhddy, you have been gone so long! and I have tried to keep dear mamma warm, and did not cry! The wind blew all my fire away—but I would not lie beside mamma, because I was so cold, and I would make her sick, you said. But mamma’s asleep now. I have been blowing on her cheeks to warm them, they are so cold. Shall we not wake her, Arthur, and give her some bread?” “No, Sissy, while she sleeps, she don’t feel hungry and cold. She don’t know that we are cold! We will sit beside her and wait till she wakes.” “Buhddy, don’t you think that God will send somebody to take care of dear mamma in the morning? I tried to pray when I was waiting for you, Buhddy. I know he will. I prayed for bread, and he gave you some.” Every word of the little prattler struck like a dagger on the poor boy’s heart. Yet, as he saw how greedily she swallowed the crusts, carefully laying aside the soft part for her sleeping mother, and felt her warm breath upon his cheek, a wild delight seemed to fill his heart that he had procured the bread. And he dared not pray, for he recollected his mother had told him he must be sorry for his fault, ere he asked God’s forgiveness. Wrapping her little purple feet in part of his own scanty covering, and pressing her closer in his arms, her little prattle soon ceased, and she lay asleep upon his breast. With his precious burden he crept nearer to his mother’s side, and anxiously watched her pallid countenance as the uncertain rays of the glimmering taper, flitted across that form, once so beautiful, still so loved, so reverenced. Dark shadows seemed to gather round him, as he kept his lonely vigils; and at every gust of wind, fear, to which he had before been a stranger, crept chillingly along his veins. Some genial influence seemed to have left him. No more he raised his eyes in confidence above. All was lone, and dark, and desolate.