uld be no letter from Sir Donald except "upon some important
development." Should Oswald stop long at any point, he was to write,
that unnecessary delay might be avoided.

They had decided that any attempt of Oswald at ferreting out these
crimes would be dangerous. Such action might hamper the London bureau
and hasten a crisis exculpating the Laniers.

Sir Donald had told Esther the cause of Oswald's sudden departure. She
was saddened, but made no protest. That the innocent should suffer such
unjust banishment shocked Esther's ideas of right providence. Why were
such straits permitted?

Esther begins to see that the world groans beneath weight of unmerited
burdens. Under fairest skies gleam sacrificial blades. Balmiest airs
minister to altar-fires. Bird-carols and zephyr-murmurs are but medley
variations to minor chords of vicarious pain.

Esther now has occasional convictions that some wrongs may continue
indefinitely. Can it be that transient evil is lasting good? Are there
more clamorous voices than those of physical need? Shall the less
ravenous, yet infinitely more real, soul-hunger wait on alms and
ambulance?

That such moods of questioning thought bear intimate reference to
Oswald's hard fate no way lessens their deep sincerity. Heart queries
are wonderfully profound.

No word of complaint escapes Esther's lips, nor does she doubt the
wisdom of their proposed course. Deeply solicitous for Oswald's
vindication, this loyally sympathetic girl would hesitate at no personal
sacrifice in his behalf. It is hard that she can do nothing to help him.

Aware of her father's interest in her every wish and aspiration, Esther
refrains from any suggestion which may cause additional care.

Sir Donald's observing vision notes each emotional clew. Many unspoken
queries find vocal reply. Delicate points are cleared by suggestive
indirection. Neither completely yields to profitless conjecture. They
magnetize Northfield.

One bright day Sir Donald and Esther take a stroll about the familiar
grounds. The air is laden with perfume of flowers. Both are charmed with
exquisite plant and foliage shades. Many exclamatory comments are
uttered by the enthusiastic daughter, more gravely confirmed by her
gently reserved father. They quit the mansion grounds for a stroll along
the wood-fringed lake. Past the family graves, where a pensive hour is
spent, they walk to where a small sail is locked fast by the pebbly
shore. Sir Donald fai