He rose softly while she was speaking, and bent his head, as if in
reverence at her words, and the solemn injunction which they conveyed.
When she had spoken, he said, in so subdued a voice that she was almost
surprised at the sound, "Mother, I will."

"I may be dead and gone; but, all the same, thou wilt take home the
wandering sinner, and heal up her sorrows, and lead her to her Father's
house. My lad! I can speak no more; I'm turned very faint."

He placed her in a chair; he ran for water. She opened her eyes, and
smiled.

"God bless you, Will. Oh! I am so happy. It seems as if she were found;
my heart is so filled with gladness."

That night Mr. Palmer stayed out late and long. Susan was afraid that he
was at his old haunts and habits--getting tipsy at some public-house; and
this thought oppressed her, even though she had so much to make her happy
in the consciousness that Will loved her. She sat up long, and then she
went to bed, leaving all arranged as well as she could for her father's
return. She looked at the little rosy, sleeping girl who was her bed-
fellow, with redoubled tenderness, and with many a prayerful thought. The
little arms entwined her neck as she lay down, for Nanny was a light
sleeper, and was conscious that she, who was loved with all the power of
that sweet, childish heart, was near her, and by her, although she was
too sleepy to utter any of her half-formed words.

And, by-and-by, she heard her father come home, stumbling uncertain,
trying first the windows, and next the door fastenings, with many a loud
incoherent murmur. The little innocent twined around her seemed all the