"We must sell our furniture, mother!"
"For a quarter of what it's worth? Never, girl! No! The Lord will provide," said she, between her clenched teeth, with a sort of hysteric chuckle. "The Lord will provide!"
"I believe it; I believe it," said poor Grace; "but faith is weak, and the day is very dark, mother."
"Dark, ay? And may be darker, yet; but the Lord will provide. He prepares a table in the wilderness for his saints that the world don't think of."
"Oh, mother! and do you think there is any door of hope?"
"Go to bed, girl; go to bed, and leave me to see to that. Find my spectacles. Wherever have you laid them to, now? I'll look over the books awhile."
"Do let me go over them for you."
"No, you sha'n't! I suppose you'll be wanting to make out your poor old mother's been cheating somebody. Why not, if I'm a thief, Miss, eh?"
"Oh, mother! mother! don't say that again."
And Grace glided out meekly to her own chamber, which was on the ground-floor adjoining the parlour, and there spent more than one hour in prayer, from which no present comfort seemed to come; yet who shall say that it was all unanswered?