CHAPTER VI.

A Way Opened.

THE next six weeks were for Martin, weeks of sore trial. His wife's sufferings brought on her an attack of low fever; his night's rest was broken, his strength exhausted by watching, his business was failing at the very time when comforts were most urgently needed. Martin locked his sorrow in his own heart, and let not a word escape that could distress his suffering wife. He strengthened himself in the Lord, comforting himself with the words of Scripture, "If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as sons" . . . thus dealing with His children that they may be "partakers of His holiness." *

* Heb. xii. 7-10.

The visits of Mr. Vale were likewise a great comfort to Martin Laver, especially as they seemed to have a softening effect upon Ann. She was often, indeed, irritable and complaining; the pain which she had to endure well accounted for that, but she would at least listen to the truth, and never again did she venture to taunt her husband with being a saint.

At the end of six weeks Ann was sufficiently recovered to be able to come again into her shop, and even to take her place behind the counter for a short time, while Martin went to make some necessary purchase.

"Things seem little changed here," said Ann to herself, as she glanced around. "There are the pipes which I tied up myself with a bit of old ribbon, the ballads too in their place, not a soul seems to have bought them. I fear that business has been terribly slack, and my poor Martin looks ill too; he has never had a chance of getting up his strength. He must have had a hard time of it while I was keeping my bed. Oh! Mrs. Batten," cried Ann, as the portly figure of the fishmonger's wife appeared at the door of the shop, "you see I'm again at my post."

"Glad of it, mighty glad of it!" said Mrs. Batten, coming up to the counter, but with little of gladness upon her good-humoured face. "I'm afraid you've been hard put to it," she added, lowering her voice, "or your good man would not have had his umbrella and greatcoat in pawn."

"In pawn!" exclaimed Ann, with a startled look; for she had little idea of the extent of the difficulties which Martin had had to encounter. "Are you sure that he has them in pawn?"

"As sure as that my name is Betsy Batten. I saw him coming out of the shop, and asked him about it, just as he was turning into the chemist's, next door, to pay a precious long bill."

Ann bit her lip, and silently turned away to busy herself with sorting cigars. Here was a startling confirmation of a fear which had often crossed her mind during her illness, that her husband's business was not thriving, and that, unless matters mended, ruin might soon stare them both in the face.

The tobacconist's wife said nothing more on the subject, though it was never out of her thoughts, until she and Martin were at their quiet evening meal, with little Annie sitting, as usual, upon her father's knee.

"Martin, you're a-hiding something from me," said Ann, abruptly, looking full at her husband. "Don't think I'm afraid to hear truth; I'd rather know it right out at once, and so be prepared for the worst. We'll be bankrupt before the winter sets in."

"No, not so bad as that," replied Martin, calmly; "but now that you are—thank God!—so much stronger, it is better that you should know all. There should never be a secret between man and wife. Ann, I can't get on with this business; it is to me a losing concern; I don't make enough to pay rent and cover expenses."

"And they have been so heavy, so heavy of late!" sighed Ann.

"It is a relief to me to find that Mason, our neighbour round the corner, is willing to take the whole concern off our hands at Michaelmas, if you and I agree in thinking that it is better to give up the business before we are entangled in debt. If this arrangement be settled, we shall then be clear of the world, though," added Laver, with a melancholy smile. "We shall have little enough left, I fear, with which to begin life again."

Ann covered her eyes with her hand, and moaned aloud in her bitterness of spirit. "There's no use in going on longer, struggling to get a livelihood here," she murmured. "My father is dead, my brothers won't help us; I'm sure don't know which way to look."

"Upwards!" said Martin, hopefully.

The word had scarcely escaped his lips when a tap was heard at the door, and on Martin's rising and opening it, the now familiar form of Mr. Vale, the rector, entered the parlour. Even little Annie had always a smile with which to welcome the kindly old man, who used to pat her on the head, and give her his cane to play with.

"I ask pardon for interrupting you at your meal," said the clergyman, motioning to Martin and his wife to resume their seats, while he took that which was instantly placed for him by Ann. "I thought, Laver, that you might be the man to help me out of a little difficulty in which I unexpectedly find myself now. My Scripture reader, John Hallam—you know him?—came to me an hour ago to inform me that he had just received a telegram from Wales. His father, who lives in a farm there, has been taken dangerously ill, and Hallam is wanted at home. Now, it so happens that at this time there is a particular press of work in our parish, and my curate is absent on leave. It has occurred to my mind that you might take my Scripture reader's place for a week, or longer, if his return be delayed. What do you say to the suggestion?"

Martin and his wife exchanged glances; it seemed as if a door had been unexpectedly opened before them.

"There is no kind of work which I should like better, sir," said Laver, "were I only fit to undertake it. But you see, sir, I've no experience, and I should but disappoint you and wrong the people, by attempting to do that which I could not perform well."

"I know enough of your character, Laver," observed the rector, "to feel sure that your heart would be in the work, and this is one of the first of qualifications. Besides, it appears to me that you have studied your Bible, and love it. It would be a real relief to my mind if I could have one in whom I could put confidence to take Hallam's place, if but for a week."

"There could be no harm at least in trying me for a week, sir," said Laver, deeply gratified at having been chosen by Mr. Vale to fill, even for a short period, such a responsible office.

Martin little guessed at that time, that the engagement for a week was to last through many years. The father of Hallam died, leaving to him, as his eldest son, the management of his farm and the care of his widow. But Mr. Vale, in the meantime, had found Martin Laver so zealous and useful, so diligent in his work, and so judicious in his way of performing it, that the clergyman was glad to retain him in the office of Scripture reader.

Martin had now entered upon the happiest as well as the most useful portion of his life. It was his delight, as well as his duty, to visit the widows in their affliction, support the weak, comfort the sorrowful, and direct sinners to the Saviour. It was given to the humble labourer to win many souls from darkness into light.

But perhaps Martin's deepest source of happiness was to be found in his own home. Annie grew up to be all that a father's heart could desire—his helper in all good works. Mrs. Laver also learned to realise the blessedness of living the life, as well as of holding the faith, of a saint. She learned that whom the Lord pardons and saves, He purifies also, and that faith and obedience are closely linked together in this world, as in Heaven holiness and happiness will both be made perfect together.

A CONQUEROR

OR,

A CHRISTIAN IN LIFE'S STRUGGLE.