"'Yes; but as a wife,' he replied, 'she would have had treble power.' "'She is forbidden to be your wife,' I said, 'by the very religion she professes--and would her acting in opposition to its laws have convinced you of its truth?' "'There was no love in the case,' said he, not heeding me, 'and now she wishes to be my friend,' he continued, with a sneer, 'as if there were any medium with me between love and hate, except utter forgetfulness.' "'Madam,' he exclaimed, as if suddenly remembering himself, 'forgive me what I have been saying; had she let me, I would have been to you more than a son--as it is--fare well.' "Without another word to Mabel, he left us, and I have never seen him since. "I dare say a great deal passed more than I have told you; but I am very forgetful now--though I well remember how miserable I was that day, and for a very long time afterwards, for poor Mabel was very ill, and never left her bed for weeks. I sent to our good Mr. Ware, and told him everything, and asked him to come and comfort Mabel; and so he did, most effectually. Night after night did I sit by her, terrified by her fits of delirium and the dreadful exhaustion which followed them. I took cold then, and my nurse wanted me to go to bed, and leave her to watch by her; but what was life and rest to me, without my child? "Amy sat upon her pillow nearly all day, and would whisper, 'don't cry, dear Mabel.' There was not much comfort in her baby words; but I think Mabel liked to hear her. "Mr. Ware was unwearied in his attentions to her; and, at length, she began to rally. Then I became ill, with anxiety, perhaps, or the cold I took from the night-watching, and it was quite touching to see how hard she tried to get well, that she might nurse me in turn. Oh, what a comfort it was when she began to smile again. You see how well she is now--she is never ill, and how cheerful and happy she seems. I try to think it all for the best, though it is difficult sometimes." "Well, you have, indeed, had a great deal to vex you," said Mrs. Villars, much touched. "I have, however, much happiness to look back upon," said Mrs. Lesly, sighing gently, "in my William's kindness for so many years; but my health is failing sadly--and I have one care certainly, when I think of leaving my children without a friend in the world to take care of them--particularly as with my life, my pension, which is the only source of our income, will cease." "Yes," said Mrs. Villars, "it was almost a pity she did not marry the young man--what a provision it would have been for both." "I think you would have acted as I did," said Mrs. Lesly, "would you not?" "Why you know," she replied, "I never thought of those things as seriously as you do, and my love for my orphan children would have been a great temptation. Indeed, that love for my family guides me in almost everything, and after all, why his staying away from church would not have prevented her going."