"My poor little wife," said John Temple, when he could again speak, "I am frail and human, but there is One mighty and eternal. I am weak and erring, but there is One strong and infallible. Put your trust in One worthier than I; lay your hand in His who shall lead you by the still waters of peace; in His which shall never fail you, neither in life, death, nor eternity." CHAPTER XIX. "IN SUCH AN HOUR AS YE THINK NOT." During the following week Juliet Temple was more serious than usual. She often found herself wondering why her husband had spoken to her in such mournful words. They haunted her the more she attempted to drive them away; she could not even reflect with indignation upon his avowed purpose as regarded the children. His solemn tones and manner had taken the sting from his unwelcome resolutions. Once she referred to the subject: "Your sermon of last Sunday has sunk deep in my heart. It is the only sermon that has ever done me any good--or harm," she added. "I did not intend to trouble you; but you know I would like to see you more thoughtful." Had John Temple taken this course long ago with his wife, she would have become perhaps a wiser, better woman. But he loved peace and quiet; and he probably thought also that no serious words from him could make impression upon her preoccupied, impervious mind. John Temple was true to his word. For several mornings his children were kneeling by his side at Mass, ere their mother had awakened from her slumbers. He himself heard their daily lessons in Catechism. When Saturday came around Juliet began to think about the children going to St. Patrick's next day. She was so surprised at herself for having acquiesced so readily. True, she knew it was no use to combat her husband upon the point, but she might not have appeared to him to yield so easily. Instead, however, of any disposition to disapprove, she began to think how it would be were she to go herself. Pshaw! Where was all her pride, that she should begin to think of going to church with her Jim, Bridget, and Ann? But somehow, for the first time, she did not like to think of her husband going without her. He had spoken so solemnly of the possibility of his some time leaving her! Hereafter she should feel as if he must not go out of her sight. She put away her embroidery for her crochet. In turn, her crochet was tedious, and dropping it, she took up a book which her husband had been reading at leisure moments the last day or two. The book she had never before observed. It was "The Following of Christ." She opened where was his mark; and this mark was, for this time, a tiny rose she had handed him that very morning. She pressed to her lips the rose, which was yet fragrant, though faded. She commenced to sing carelessly: "Ye may break, ye may ruin the vase if ye will, But the scent of the roses will hang round it still," when the heading of the Chapter, which the rose had marked, caught her eye, "Of the thoughts of death."