the emergency, and she greeted her ruined husband with a kindness
towards him, a solemn indignation against those who grind the poor, and
a sober courage to confront evil, which he little had imagined.

"Bear up, Roger; here, goodman, take the child, and don't look quite so
downcast; come what may, I'll share your cares, and you shall halve my
pleasures; we will fight it out together."

Moreover, cross, and fidgetty, and scolding, as Mary had been ever
heretofore, to her meek step-daughter Grace, all at once, as if just to
disappoint any preconcerted theory, now that actual calamity was come,
she turned to be a kind good mother to her. Roger and his daughter could
scarcely believe their ears.

"Grace, dear, I know you're a sensible good girl, try and cheer your
father." And then the step-dame added,

"There now, just run up, fetch your prayer-book down, and read a little
to us all to do us good."--The fair, affectionate girl, unused to the
accents of kindness, could not forbear flinging her arms round Mary
Acton's neck, and loving her, as Ruth loved Naomi.

Then with a heavenly smile upon her face, and a happy heart within her
to keep the smile alight, her gentle voice read these words--it will do
us good to read them too:

"Out of the deep have I called unto thee, O Lord: Lord, hear my voice.
O let thine ears consider well the voice of my complaint.
If thou, Lord, wilt be extreme to mark what is done amiss,
O Lord, who may abide it?