him. And yet, how father would have adored him, how proud he would have
been of his voice! But there, you must forgive me for bringing up this
painful subject. It is only when I think of father getting old and being
ill, possibly in want, with nobody in the world--"

"Now, now, my dear lady," said the bishop, "you are indulging in morbid
fancies. Your father knows that with a stroke of the pen he can procure
all the financial assistance from you he may desire. As to his being
unhappy, I doubt it extremely. My recollection of him is of a very
placid, amiable man living more in his dreams than in reality."

Mrs. Clarke smiled through her tears.

"You are quite right. He didn't ask much of life. A book in his hand and
a child on his knee meant happiness for him."

"And those he can have wherever he is," said her spiritual adviser. "Now
I want you to turn away from all these gloomy forebodings and leave the
matter entirely in God's hands."

"And you think I have done my duty?"

"Assuredly. It is your poor father who has failed to do his. You are a
model wife and an almost too devoted mother. You are zealous in your work
at the cathedral; you--"

"There!" said Mrs. Clarke, smiling, "I know I don't deserve all those
compliments, but they do help me. Now let's talk of something else while
I give you a fresh cup of tea. Tell me what the board did yesterday about
the foreign mission fund."