pang, yet relief, and sat with the young man from 'Omerton for a horrible hour or two, till the strain had all but killed her. But nobody came; nobody came all through the hideous night. Holding with half-frantic hands to the thread of life, which could ill bear this total want of all its usual sustenance, but which must not be sacrificed for her children's sake--keeping alive, she could not tell how, without food, without rest, without even prayer--nothing but a fever of dumb entreaty coming to her mind when she sought some forlorn comfort from the mere fact of going on her knees-- Mrs. Vincent lived through the night and the morning. Another horrible, sunshiny, cheerful day; but no sound in earth or heaven to say they were coming--no arrival, no letter--nothing but hopeless, sickening, intolerable suspense--suspense all the more intolerable because it had to be borne. CHAPTER II. TO-MORROW! to-morrow was Monday morning, a new day, a new work-week--cheerful, healthful, and exhilarating--bright with that frosty sunshine, which carried comparative comfort to many a poor house in Carlingford. The widow's face was sharper, paler, of a wonderful ashy colour. Nature could not go on under such a struggle without showing signs of it. Beecher, who was not to go until a late train, took leave of her as soon as he could, not without a little fright, and betook himself to Tozer's, where he said she overawed him with her grand manners, and where he was led to admit that Vincent had always been a little "high." If she could have abandoned herself to her dreadful vigil, perhaps Mrs. Vincent might have found it easier, perhaps harder--she herself thought the former; but she dared not give up to it. She had to set her face like a flint--she was Arthur's representative, and had still to show a steadfast front of battle for him, and if not discomfit, still confront his enemies. She had to call at Siloam Cottage, at Mrs. Tozer's, to do what else might be necessary for the propitiation of the flock. She never dreamed of saying to herself that she could not do it; there was no question of that; the flag had to be kept flying for Arthur. No friend of his must be jeopardised, no whisper allowed to rise which his mother could prevent: she had been a minister's wife for thirty years; well had she learned in that time, like Mrs. Tufton, that a deal of attention was needed to keep all things straight.