There had been no lack of firmness, and no lack of love, but the result, as at present seen, was terrible to the father and mother.
The squire heard the stifled sound of grief, and put out his hand to clasp that of his wife.
"Remember he is the child of many prayers," he said.

"We must believe that those prayers will be answered.

We must have faith in God." "I will try--I will try," answered the poor mother; "but oh, my husband, how shall I hope to cope with that wild spirit when you are gone ?" It was a hard question to answer, for the Squire himself had found his son more than a match for him many a time.

It was true that he had done all that man can do to protect wife and daughter from the reckless extravagance of an ungoverned nature; but he knew well that Tom was not one to see himself tamely set aside.

There were difficulties ahead for these two women, and the future of his son lay like a load upon his spirit.
"I would speak with Tom," he said, after a brief pause, during which Rachel administered a draught of the cordial which did most to support the failing strength of the dying man.