“Then, mother, let us change at once,” replied the young man.  “It would be better to shrink together in a single room than to continue as we are.  I will seek a clerkship in a store and earn what I can to help support the family.”

“I can think of nothing now but Miriam!” said Mrs. Darlington.  “Oh, if she were back again, safe from the toils that have been thrown around her, I think I would be the most thankful of mortals!  Oh, my child! my child!”

What could Henry say to comfort his mother?  Nothing.  And he remained silent.

Long after this, Mrs. Darlington, with Henry and Edith, were sitting together in painful suspense.  No word had been spoken by either for the space of nearly an hour.  The clock struck ten.

“I would give worlds to see my dear, dear child!” murmured Mrs. Darlington.

Just then a carriage drove up to the door and stopped.  Henry sprang down stairs; but neither Edith nor her mother could move from where they sat.  As the former opened the street door, Miriam stood with her uncle on the threshold.  Henry looked at her earnestly and tenderly for an instant, and then, staggering back, leaned against the wall for support.

“Where is your mother?” asked Mr. Ellis.

“In her own room,” said Henry, in a voice scarcely audible.

Miriam sprang up the stairs with the fleetness of an antelope, and, in a few moments, was sobbing on her mother’s bosom.

“Miriam!  Miriam!” said Mrs. Darlington, in a thrilling voice, “do you return the same as when you left?”

“Yes, thank God!” came from the maiden’s lips.

“Thank God! thank God!” responded the mother, wildly.  “Oh, my child, what a fearful misery you have escaped!”

In a few minutes, the mother and sisters were joined by Henry.

“Where is your uncle?” asked Mrs. Darlington.

“He has gone away; but says that he will see you to-morrow.”

Over the remainder of that evening we will here draw a veil.

CHAPTER XI.

On the next morning, only Mrs. Darlington met her boarders at the breakfast-table, when she announced to them that she had concluded to close her present business, and seek some new mode of sustaining her family; at the same time, desiring each one to find another home as early as possible.

At the close of the third day after this, Mrs. Darlington sat down to her evening meal with only her children gathered at the table.  A subdued and tranquil spirit pervaded each bosom, even though a dark veil was drawn against the future.  To a long and troubled excitement there had succeeded a calm.  It was good to be once more alone, and they felt this.  “Through what a scene of trial, disorder, and suffering have we passed!” said Edith.  “It seems as if I had just awakened from a dream.”

“And such a dream!” sighed Miriam.

“Would that it were but a dream!” said Mrs. Darlington.  “But, alas! the wrecks that are around us too surely testify the presence of a devastating storm.”