that he was obliged to reply 'No.' It was easy for him to discern that
the death-blow was before received.

'Oh thank you,' replied the poor mother, joyfully, 'I was sure he must
get well.' Mr Maurice was about to speak, but interrupted
himself--should he undeceive her? Should he tear from her her last hope?
perhaps it was weakness, but he could not do it. The blow was too
sudden, too heavy, and it must be softened to her. She said nothing of
poverty, but he knew by the rapidity with which she plied her needle in
the intervals of conversation that she was toiling for her bread and
fuel, and he secretly resolved to place her in a condition to devote
herself entirely to the care of the child.

As Mr Maurice glanced around the room, noting each article it
contained, and gaining from thence some item of knowledge concerning the
character of its owner, his eye fell upon a shelf on which lay a few
tracts, a Bible, and a hymn-book. 'I see,' said he, pointing to them,
'that whatever trial you may be called to pass through, you are provided
with a better comforter than any earthly friend.'

The poor woman shook her head, 'They were my husband's, sir.'

'Your husband was a pious man, then?'

'He used to read the Bible and have family worship. Sometimes I went
with him on Sunday to hear the minister, but I was always tired and
drowsy, and could not keep awake.'

'I suppose you don't go at all now?'