“What is to be done when we fail, heaven only knows!” she murmured, as a vivid consciousness of approaching extremity arose in her mind.

As she said this, the idea of her brother presented itself, with the hope that he would now exert for them a sustaining and supporting energy—­that he would be to them at last a brother.  But this thought, that made her heart leap in her bosom, she put aside with an audible—­

“No,—­no,—­Do not rest on such a feeble hope!”

At last her hand was upon the latch, and she lifted it and entered.

“I am glad to see you home again, Anna,” Alfred said, with an expression of real pleasure and affection; as she came in.

“And I am glad to see you sitting up and looking so well, brother,” Anna replied, her gloomy thoughts at once vanishing.  “How do you feel now?”

“O, I feel much better, sister.  In a few days I hope I shall be able to go out.  But how are you?  It seems to me that you do not look well.”

“I do feel very much fatigued, Alfred,” Anna said, while her tone, in spite of her effort to make it appear cheerful, became sad.  “We are not permitted in our store to sit down for a moment, and I get so tired by night that I can hardly keep up.”

“But surely, Anna, you do not stand up all day long.”

“Yes.  Since I left this morning, I have been standing every moment, with the exception of the brief period I took to eat my dinner.”

This simple statement smote upon the heart of the young man, and made him silent and thoughtful.  He felt that, but for his neglect of duty—­but for his abandonment of himself to sensual and besotting pleasures, this suffering, this self-devotion need not be.

Anna saw that what she had said was paining the mind of her brother, and she grieved that she had been betrayed into making any allusion to herself.  To restore again the pleased expression to Alfred’s countenance, she dexterously changed the subject to a more cheerful one, and was rewarded for her effort by seeing his eye again brighten and the smile again playing about his lips.

Instead of sitting down after tea and assisting Mary with her embroidery, as she usually did, Anna took a book and read aloud for the instruction and amusement of all; but most for the sake of Alfred-that he might feel with them a reciprocal pleasure, and thus be enabled to perceive that there was something substantial to fall back upon, if he would only consent to abandon the bewildering and insane delights to which he had given himself up for years.  The effect she so much desired was produced upon the mind of her brother.  He did, indeed, feel, springing up within him, a new-born pleasure,—­and wondered to himself how he could so long have strayed away from such springs of delight, to seek bitter waters in a tangled and gloomy wilderness.

When the tender good-night was at last said, and Mary stretched her wearied limbs in silent thoughtfulness beside her sister, there was a feeble hope glimmering in the dark and gloomy abyss of doubt and despondency that had settled upon her mind—­a hope that her brother would go forth from his sick chamber a changed man.  On this hope, fancy conjured up scenes and images of delight, upon which her mind dwelt in pleased and dreamy abstraction, until sleep stole upon her, and locked up her senses.