"Well, I did wrong then. You persuaded me into it. I'd no business tohave listened to you and Jim and got all this load on my shoulders."

Yet Mary Pitkin knew in her own calm, clear head that she had not beenreckless of expense. The weekly interest money was ever before her, andher own incessant toils had wrought no little portion of what was neededto pay it. Her butter at the store commanded the fairly highest price, herstraw braiding sold for a little more than that of any other hand, andshe had calculated all the returns so exactly that she felt sure that theinterest money for that week was safe. She had seen her husband passthrough this nervous crisis many times before, and she had learned to beblamed in silence, for she was a woman out of whomm all selfness had longsince died, leaving only the tender pity of the nurse and the consoler.Her soul rested on her Saviour, the one ever-present, inseparable friend;and when it did no good to speak to her husband, she spoke to her God forhim, and so was peaceful and peace-giving.

Even her husband himself felt her strengthening, rest-giving power, andfor this reason he bore down on her with the burden of all his tremors andhis cares; for while he disputed, he yet believed her, and rested uponher with an utter helpless trust, as the good angel of his house. Had_she_ for a moment given way to apprehension, had _her_ step been athought less firm, her eye less peaceful, then indeed the world itselfwould have seemed to be sinking under his feet. Meanwhile she was to himthat kind of relief which we derive from a person to whom we may sayeverything without a fear of its harming them. He felt quite sure that,say what he would, Jane would always be hopeful and courageous; and hefelt some secret idea that his own gloomy forebodings were of service inrestricting and sobering what seemed to him her too sanguine nature. Heblindly reverenced, without ability fully to comprehend, her exaltedreligious fervor and the quietude of soul that it brought. But he did notknow through how many silent conflicts, how many prayers, how many tears,how many hopes resigned and sorrows welcomed, she had come into that lastrefuge of sorrowful souls, that immovable peace when all life's anguishceases and the will of God becomes the final rest.