All records of past suffering, all anxiety for the present, all prayer for the future, were driven away, and solitary and alone the image of the dead child filled their place, and in that lone thought was concentrated all that had transpired in her life for months past.

It was the last remaining bulwark to her tottering mind, and though it still held reason dominant, the foundation of sanity had been shaken to such an extent that the slightest touch and the fabric would fall from its throne and crumble to dust at the feet of madness.

But this was unknown to God.

He who knoweth all things still kept his eyes away from the mother and her children.
"Dead! dead!" said, Mrs.Wentworth, swaying her body to and fro.

"My angel child dead! Oh, God!"' she continued, passing her hand across her brow.