And as the days went by, and she forgot her past sorrows, she had only kind thoughts of her absent husband, and blamed only herself for their mutual misery. She wished with all her heart that she could "begin all over again," and try the effect of kindness and forbearance on Amos. But no such opportunity was given her, and she had little time for bitter thoughts or unavailing regret. The superintendent of the mill gave her eldest child, a lad of fourteen, a situation where he could earn $4 a week, and a girl a year younger found work in a millinery store. Thus Jane was relieved of much anxiety, and she was so skilful with her needle that she soon found herself able to "lay by something for a rainy day," as she expressed it. Gradually the children were provided with comfortable clothes and were sent to church and to Sunday-school, from which they had been debarred for several years, owing to a lack of decent apparel; the house was repaired, new furniture bought, a flower garden laid out in front of the cottage, and a new fence erected. People began to speak of Jane as a surprisingly smart woman, and to say that her husband's desertion had been a blessing in disguise. But in spite of her prosperity there was an ache ever at Jane's heart, and a regret which no good fortune could stifle. "If I'd only been kinder!" she would say to herself, as she lay awake at night and thought of her absent husband. "It was my fault he drank; I see that now. He was always telling me that my temper'd ruin him in the end, and now his word's come true." She felt as if she ought to make some atonement for her past sin, even though she was never to see her husband again, and with this end in view she determined to cure herself of the habit of scolding and fault-finding about which poor Amos had complained so bitterly. After a few struggles at first, she found her new path very pleasant to her feet, and was encouraged to persevere by the artless comments made by her children on the improvement in her temper. "You're so good, now, mother," they would say, when, instead of the sharp rebuke they had expected on the commission of some childish folly, came very kind words of regret and gentle reproof. "You are so different from what you used to be. If father could only come home and live with us now how happy we would all be." But Amos did not come. Year after year passed, and he sent no word or sign; and at length both wife and children grew to think of him as dead. Seven years! Seven years to a day had passed since Amos Derby had left his home, and up the street and past the mill came a tall man, with a cap of sealskin pulled low over his eyes, and handsome overcoat trimmed with the same costly fur over his arm. He whistled as he walked, and seemed in great good humor, for occasionally he would break out into a loud laugh. But as he came near the cottage where Jane Derby lived, he became more quiet, and an anxious expression stole into his face.