Murmur, indeed! Why does not your voice ascend to heaven with one loud wail against the cruelty of man ?" Then he went forth from the room into an empty chamber on the other side of the passage; and his wife, when she followed him there after a few minutes, found him on his knees, with his forehead against the floor, and with his hands clutching at the scanty hairs of his head.

Often before had she seen him so, on the same spot, half grovelling, half prostrate in prayer, reviling in his agony all things around him,--nay, nearly all things above him,--and yet striving to reconcile himself to his Creator by the humiliation of confession.
It might be better with him now, if only he could bring himself to some softness of heart.

Softly she closed the door, and placing the candle on the mantel-shelf, softly she knelt beside him, and softly touched his hand with hers.

He did not stir nor utter a word, but seemed to clutch at his thin locks more violently than before.

Then she kneeling there, aloud, but with low voice, with her thin hands clasped, uttered a prayer in which she asked her God to remove from her husband the bitterness of that hour.