She is my ministering angel--and I miss her so much."
It was only on this evening that Mr. Verne had become communicative.
He was always looked upon as a cold, reticent man, who had no
sympathy with humanity in general; but there were those who could
say "God bless you, Mr. Verne," from the bottom of their hearts. Who
will presume to say that those grateful invocations were lost upon
the winds--that they were not wafted to the Throne of Mercy, and
received the plaudits of the King of Kings?
"I have long been thinking of having a talk with you, Stephen, and I
feel now is the time," said Mrs. Montgomery, in confidential tone,
yet betraying some hesitation. "We all know Stephen, that your
family is living beyond your means, and that you are robbing
yourself of health, strength and peace of mind to keep up an
extravagant appearance. I ask you if that is right?"
"Hester, it is this that is killing me by inches, yet I cannot
prevent it. What can I do? I cannot breast the current that is
carrying along everything with it in maddening fury. One day I must
make the plunge!"
Mr. Verne buried his face in his hands and wept like a child, while
Mrs. Montgomery sat motionless, her eyes fixed upon the quaintly
carved case of the eight day clock, whose solemn tick made the
stillness more oppressive.
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