A TIME of heavy tribulation to the widow followed the horrors of that night. John Carey was not indeed killed, the spark of life glimmered still, but he lay for weeks in a dangerous state, sometimes buried in stupor, sometimes raving with fever, never able to give a clear account of what had occurred. It was evident that he had been the victim to violence; the fact of his having gone to London to cash a cheque for a considerable sum was soon known far and wide, and it was, of course, concluded that the "young lion" had been waylaid on his return home, and robbed of the money. Search was made at once for the man who had committed the crime, a reward was offered for his apprehension. Suspicion fell upon Soames, who was proved to have heard from John's own lips of the cheque, and whose character and wretched circumstances made him appear one not unlikely to have committed an act of violence to save himself from destitution. The sudden disappearance of Soames from the neighbourhood confirmed the suspicion; but the wretched man succeeded in eluding pursuit; he was reserved to suffer, at a later period, the punishment due for other crimes. In anguish, the widow watched and prayed by the bedside of her suffering son, imploring God, day and night, to spare his life and his reason. The crisis was over at length; the fever was subdued, consciousness returned, but the once powerful young man lay weak and helpless as a child. His tawny locks shorn away, the bandage over his brow, his eye dim, his cheek hollow, who, in that languid invalid, would have recognised the "young lion!" The doctor forbade any subject being mentioned to John that could produce excitement; he must be kept as quiet as possible, and have as much good wine and generous nourishment as he could take to restore his exhausted strength. Good wine, generous nourishment! How were they to be procured? That question which she could not answer, went to the mother's heart. Mrs. Carey had earned her livelihood by charing and washing, but during her son's illness she had been unable to earn a sixpence by either, nursing him had engaged all her time, and taxed her utmost strength. During the first fortnight, his mother had felt the press of poverty but little; John could hardly touch food, the doctor had not sent in his bill, much interest was excited in the neighbourhood, little presents were received, and the few tradesmen who supplied necessaries let their accounts run up, without troubling the afflicted mother for immediate payment. Thus for a while, as has been said, Mrs. Carey, watching by the sick-bed of John, and absorbed by the anxiety caused by his critical state, felt no actual want of money. But this did not last very long.