thought of Him seemed to have dwelt in their minds. Religious faith
had never been of any practical help, and now in their extremity it
seemed utterly intangible, and in no sense to be depended on.

When Mrs. Allen recovered from her swoon, and Laura had gained some
self-control, they sent for Dr. Mark, and eagerly suggested both their
hope and fear.

"It's only a fainting fit, doctor, is it not? Will he not soon be
better?"

"My dear madam, we will do all we can," said the doctor, with that
professional solemnity which might accompany the reading of a death
warrant, "but it is my painful duty to tell you to prepare for the
worst. Your husband has an attack of apoplexy."

He had scarcely uttered the words before she was again in a swoon, and
Laura also lost her transient quietness. Leaving his assistant and
Mrs. Allen's maid to take care of them, he went back to his graver
charge.

Mr. Allen lay insensible on his bed, and one could hardly realize that
he was a dying man. His face was as flushed and full as it often
appeared on his return from his club. To the girls' unpracticed ears,
his loud, stentorous breathing only indicated heavy sleep. But neither
they nor the doctor could arouse him, and at last the physician met
Edith's questioning eyes, and gravely and significantly shook his
head. Though she had borne up so steadily and quietly, he felt more
for her than for any of the others.