“Good by, brother,” she said in a cheerful tone, coming up to the bed upon which Alfred lay, and stooping down and kissing him.  “You must try and sit up as much as you can to-day.”

“Good by, Anna.  I wish you didn’t have to go away and stay so long.”

To this, Anna could not trust herself to reply.  She only pressed tightly the hand she held in her own, and then turned quickly away.

It was nearly three quarters of an hour later than the time the different clerks were required to be at the store, when Anna came in, her side and head both paining her badly, in consequence of having walked too fast.

“It’s three quarters of an hour behind the time,” the storekeeper said, with a look and tone of displeasure, as he drew out his watch.  “I can’t have such irregularity in my store, Miss Graham.  This is the third time within a few days, that you have come late.”

A reply instantly rose to Anna’s tongue, but she felt that it would be useless—­and would, perhaps, provoke remarks deeply wounding to her feelings.  She paused, therefore, only a moment, with a bowed head, to receive her rebuke, and then passed quickly, and with a meek, subdued air, to her station behind the counter.  There were some of her fellow-clerks who felt for and pitied Anna—­there were others who experienced a pleasure in hearing her reproved.

All through that day, with only the respite of some ten or fifteen minutes, when she retired to eat alone the frugal repast of bread and cold meat that she had brought with her for her dinner, did Anna stand behind the shop-man’s counter, attending to his customers with a cheerful air and often a smiling countenance.  She spoke to no one of the pain in her breast, back, and side; and none of those around her dreamed that, from extreme lassitude, she could scarcely stand beside the counter.

To her, suffering as she did, the hours passed slowly and heavily away.  It seemed as if evening would never come—­as if she would have to yield the struggle, much as she strove to keep up for the sake of those she loved.

But even to the weary, the heavy laden, and the prisoner, the slow lingering hours at length pass on, and the moment of respite comes.  The shadows of evening at last began to fall dimly around, and Anna retired from her position of painful labour, and took her way homeward.  But not even the anticipation of speedily joining those she loved, had power so to buoy up her spirits, that her body could rise above its depressed and weakened condition.  Her weary steps were slowly taken, and it seemed to her that she should never be able to reach home.  Many, very many depressing thoughts passed through her mind as she proceeded slowly on her homeward way.  The condition of her sister Ellen troubled her exceedingly.  About one-third of her own and Mary’s earnings were required to keep her and her little ones from absolute suffering; and Mary, like herself, she too plainly perceived to be rapidly sinking under her burdens.