All the rest were asleep, and having assured himself of this, he drew up a low chair and leaned his elbow on his knee and hi head on his hand, and told the whole adventure of the evening to his mother, and then dropped his head on her lap and wept in a still way.

And the sweet-eyed, weary Moravian mother laid her two hands upon his head and prayed.

And Wilhelmina knelt instinctively by the side of her brother.
[Illustration: THE MOTHER'S BLESSING.] Perhaps there is no God.

Or perhaps He is so great that our praying has no effect.

Perhaps this strong crying of our hearts to Him in our extremity is no witness of his readiness to hear.