But as Stephen, her only son, advanced to manhood she relinquished the
responsibility and devoted her time almost entirely to her household
affairs. This change was so gradual as to be almost imperceptible. Stephen
disliked the drudgery of farm life and left the work to the hired men. So
long as he could draw upon his father's careful savings to pay the wages
and supply his own needs, he did not worry. The neighbours shook their
heads and prophesied trouble as they saw the land producing less each
year, and its acres, formerly rich with grain, covered with bushes. Parson
John reasoned and remonstrated, though all in vain. Stephen always
promised to do better, but in the end continued the same as before. At
last the awakening came, sudden and terrible. The bank account had been
overdrawn to a considerable extent, and payment was demanded. The only
thing to do was to mortgage the farm, and with a heavy heart Mrs. Frenelle
signed the pledge of death to the dear homestead. For a time Stephen tried
to settle down to steady work, but the old habit of carelessness was too
strong upon him, and ere long he drifted back to his former ways. The
interest on the mortgage remained unpaid. Foreclosure was the inevitable
result, and the farm was accordingly advertised for sale.

At last the day of doom had arrived.

Parson John found Mrs. Frenelle in the cosy sitting-room with her invalid
daughter, Nora. The latter was endeavouring to comfort her mother. The
girl's face, although worn with care and suffering, was sweet to look
upon. She was not what one would call pretty, but it was impossible to be
long in her presence without feeling the influence of her strong buoyant
disposition. The angel of pain had purged away much of the dross of her
nature, leaving the pure gold undimmed. She inherited, too, much of her
father's strength of character which seemed to be lacking in her brother.