"Is it," said he at last, "because my father was drowned at sea, that
you beg so hard, mother?"

"Oh, no--no!" exclaimed the sobbing woman. "Would to God--"

"Would to God what, mother?"

"Nothing--nothing. Be merciful--be merciful, O God!" replied the
mother, sliding from her seat on the couch, and kneeling by the side
of it, in which attitude she remained for some time in fervent prayer.

At last she resumed her seat, and her face wore an aspect of more
composure.

Philip, who, during this, had remained silent and thoughtful, again
addressed his mother.

"Look ye, mother. You ask me to stay on shore with you, and
starve,--rather hard conditions:--now hear what I have to say. That
room opposite has been shut up ever since I can remember--why, you
will never tell me; but once I heard you say, when we were without
bread, and with no prospect of my uncle's return--you were then half
frantic, mother, as you know you sometimes are--"

"Well, Philip, what did you hear me say?" enquired his mother with
tremulous anxiety.

"You said, mother, that there was money in that room which would save
us; and then you screamed and raved, and said that you preferred