Zeph never breathed an opposing word when his wife, every Friday evening, lighted the lantern, and with all her sons about her set off to the evening prayer-meeting in the little red school-house, though after his quarrel with the Deacon he never went himself. Those weekly meetings, when she heard her minister and joined in the prayers and praises of her church, were the brightest hours of her life, and her serene radiant face, following his words with rapt attention, was a help and inspiration to her pastor. "There is a revival begun over there," he said to his wife as they were riding home from one of his services. "It is begun in the heart of that good woman. She has long been praying for a revival, and I am confident that _her_ prayers will be answered." They were answered, but in a way little dreamed of by any one. The prayers we offer for heavenly blessings often come up in our earthly soil as plants of bitter sorrow. So it proved in this case. CHAPTER XXIV. "IN SUCH AN HOUR AS YE THINK NOT." One morning in the latter part of spring Zeph Higgins received a shock which threw his whole soul into confusion. His wife, on rising to go forth to her wonted morning cares, had fainted dead away and been found lying, apparently lifeless, on the bed, when her husband returned for his breakfast. Instantly everything was in commotion. The nearest neighbor was sent for, and restoratives applied with such skill as domestic experience could suggest, and one of the boys dispatched in all haste for the doctor, with orders to bring Nabby at once to take her mother's place. The fainting fit proved of short duration, but was followed by a violent chill and a rise of fever, and when the doctor arrived he reported a congestion of the lungs threatening the gravest results. Forthwith the household was to be organized for sickness. A fire was kindled in the best bed-room and the patient laid there; Mis' Persis was sent for and installed as nurse; Nabby became housekeeper, and to superficial view the usual order reigned. Zeph went forth to the labors of the field, struggling with a sort of new terror; there was an evil threatening his house, against the very thought and suggestion of which he fought with all his being. His wife _could_ not, _should_ not, _ought_ not to be sick,--and as to dying, that was not to be thought of! What could he do without her? What could any of them do without her? During the morning's work that was the problem that he kept turning and turning in his mind--what life would be without her. Yet, when Abner, who was working beside him, paused over his hoe and stood apparently lost in thought, he snapped a harsh question at him with a crack like the sound of a lash. "What ye doin' there?" Abner started, looked confused and resumed his work, only saying, "I was thinking about Mother." "Nonsense! Don't make a fool of yourself. Mother'll come all right." "The doctor said"--said Abner.