For nearly five minutes, old Mr. Bacon stood with his axe resting on
the ground, lost in painful thought. Then he went slowly into the
house, and sitting down before the fire, let his head sink upon his
breast, and there mused on the trouble that was closing around him.
But there came no ray of light, piercing the thick darkness that had
fallen so suddenly.

Nothing was then said to his family on the subject, but it was
apparent to all that something was wrong, for the lips that gave
utterance to so many pleasant words, and parted so often in cheerful
smiles, were still silent."

"Are you not well, to-day?" asked Mrs. Bacon, as the family gathered
around the dinner-table, and she remarked her husband's unusually
sober face.

"Not very well," he replied.

"What ails you, father?" said Mary, with tender concern in her
voice, and her eyes were turned upon him with affectionate
earnestness.

"Nothing of much consequence, child," was answered evasively. "I
shall be better after dinner."

And as Mr. Bacon spoke he poured out a larger glass of brandy than
usual--he always had brandy on the table at dinner time--and drank
it off. This soon took away the keen edge of suffering from his
feelings, and he was able to affect a measure of cheerfulness. But
he did not deceive the eyes of Mrs. Bacon and Mary.