finger towards the inner room; but as Mary lifted up her faded, weary
face to hers, her whole soul seemed to heave towards her like a billow,
and she took her up in her arms and broke forth into sobbing, and,
carrying her in, as if she had been a child, set her down in the inner
room and sat down beside her.

Mrs. Marvyn and her husband sat together, holding each other's hands,
the open Bible between them. For a few moments nothing was to be heard
but sobs and unrestrained weeping, and then all kneeled down to pray.

After they rose up, Mr. Zebedee Marvyn stood for a moment thoughtfully,
and then said,--"If it had pleased the Lord to give me a sure evidence
of my son's salvation, I could have given him up with all my heart; but
now, whatever there may be, I have seen none." He stood in an attitude
of hopeless, heart-smitten dejection, which contrasted painfully with
his usual upright carriage and the firm lines of his face.

Mrs. Marvyn started as if a sword had pierced her, passed her arm round
Mary's waist, with a strong, nervous clasp, unlike her usual calm self,
and said,--"Stay with me, daughter, to-day!--stay with me!"

"Mary can stay as long as you wish, cousin," said Mrs. Scudder; "we have
nothing to call her home."

"_Come_ with me!" said Mrs. Marvyn to Mary, opening an adjoining door
into her bedroom, and drawing her in with a sort of suppressed
vehemence,--"I want you!--I must have you!"

"Mrs. Marvyn's state alarms me," said her husband, looking
apprehensively after her when the door was closed; "she has not shed any