A Great Matter Calls Her Son With

I Dare Not Hope. I Never Was Fainthearted Before; But I Cannot Believe Such A Creature Cares For Me.

When Prayers Were Ended, And His Mother Had Wished Him Good-night With That Long Steady Look Of Hers Which Conveyed No Expression Of The Tenderness That Was In Her Heart, But Yet Had All The Intensity Of A Blessing.

Of All Faults The One She Most Despised In Others Was The Want Of Bravery; The Meanness Of Heart Which Leads To Untruth.

But I Was Right. I Think That Must Be An Hereditary Quality, For My Father Says He Is Scarcely Ever Wrong.

He Came Up Straight To Her Father, Whose Hands He Took And Wrung Without A Word - Holding Them In His For A Minute Or Two, During Which Time His Face, His Eyes, His Look, Told Of More Sympathy Than Could Be Put Into Words.