Ellis acquiesced; and so his wife held the cup to his lips while he drank.

“Oh, dear!  This is a dreadful state to be in Cara!”

The exclamation was spontaneous.  Had Ellis thought a moment, his pride would have caused him to repress it.

Mrs. Ellis did not reply, for she was afraid to trust herself to speak, lest her words or voice should express something that would check the better feelings that were in the heart of her husband.  But, ere she could repress it, a tear fell upon his hand.  Almost with a start, Ellis turned and looked up into her face.  It was calm, yet sorrowful.  The pale and wasted condition of that face had never so struck him before.

“Ah, Cara,” said he, dropping his knife and fork, “it is dreadful to live in this way.  Dreadful! dreadful!”

The poor, almost heart-broken wife could command herself no longer; and she laid her face down upon her husband and sobbed—­the more convulsively from her efforts to regain self-possession.

“Oh, Henry!” she at length murmured, “if the past were only ours!  If we could but live over our lives, with some of the experience that living gives, how differently should we act!  But, surely, hope is not clean gone for ever!  Is there not yet a better and a brighter day for even us?”

“There is, Cara!  There is!” replied Ellis, in tones of confidence.  “It has been a long, long night, Cara; a cold and cheerless night.  But the morning breaks.  There is not much strength left in this poor arm,” and he extended his right hand, that trembled like an aspen leaf—­“but it can yet do something.  It shall not be with us as it has been any longer.  In the sight of Heaven, and in the hope of strength from above, I promise that, Cara.  Will you help me to keep my promise?”

“Yes—­yes—­yes,” was the emphatic response.  “If there is in me a particle of strength, it is yours, and you may lean on it confidently.  Oh, Henry! trust in me.  The lessons of the past have not been learned in vain.”

“I am very weak, Cara; the pressure of a child’s hand might throw me over.  Do not forget this.  Never forget it!  If you will keep close to my side, if you will help me, and love me,”—­his voice quivered, and he paused, but regained himself in a few moments—­“I think all will be well with us again.  God helping me, I will try.”

“Oh, my husband!” sobbed Mrs. Ellis, drawing her arms lovingly about him—­“it will be well with us, for God will help you, I will help you, all will help you.  Forget?  Oh, no!  I can never forget.  Have we not all been thoughtful of you, and kind to you in the night that is passing away?”

“Yes, Cara, yes.”

“And will we not be kinder and more loving in the brighter future?  We will! we will, Henry!  Oh! how my glad heart runs over!”

“I saw Mr. Wilkinson yesterday,” said Ellis, after both had grown calmer; “and he said that he could and would get me a situation as clerk.  I am now going to see him, and, if he be as good as his word, this desert place”—­and he glanced about the room—­“will soon brighten as the rose.”