"I hope," replied Mrs. Palmer, "I did my duty by them. It saddened me at first to see so many young healthy faces, while there was death in that of my husband, but at last the sight of them quite heartened me. Poor dear Black never held up his head after his failure, but he used, as he sat in his easy chair, to like to hear the voices from the play-ground. I cannot tell you why, but my heart warmed more to him as he leant back pale and helpless in the little green-room, than it had ever done in our grand house in the Paragon. He was so patient, that I do believe he brought God's favour on all our doings. I never used to go up in the stage to London to get my groceries and things, but I always ran back from the door to beg B's blessing."
If a smile did rise to the lips of her young hearers, it was instantly repressed, the feeling was too sacred and too tender for mirth. "He lived for three years, and then went off like a sleeping child. I was reading the Bible to him at the time, and thought that the sunshine which came in at the window would be too strong for his eyes. I looked up, and that glad and beautiful light fell upon the face of the dead."
There was a deep silence, while Helen's vivid fancy conjured up the scene. She knew the small neat room—she had been with Mrs. Palmer to see it; the cheerful garden filled with flowers, the hum of the distant play-ground, the rosy clusters of an acacia-tree, whose branches almost came in at the window; where
