d Gwen,
musing: '"Trust in the Lord, and do good, . . . and verily thou shalt
be fed." You have proved that promise true, for you are the only one
of us all that is provided for life.'

I think we have all been cared for so far,' said Agatha quietly. 'You
will find your verse no less true than mine: "Commit thy way unto the
Lord, trust also in Him, and He shall bring it to pass."'

Gwen was silent. She could not talk freely about her feelings to any
one, but she had, as she expressed it to Deb, 'learnt her lesson.' Her
self-confidence had been shaken to the roots, and she was no longer
desirous of following her own plans to the exclusion of all advice from
others. Having discovered that she could make mistakes, she began to
wonder whether her life had not been full of them; and the gradual
conviction of this drove her to her knees, and led her to the feet of
the great Teacher as a little child.

One evening, soon after poor Deb's death, Agatha and Gwen were sitting
down to a cosy evening together, when they were surprised by the sudden
entrance of Alick Lester. He seemed strangely perturbed, and very
anxious to pour out his trouble into Agatha's ears. When Gwen made a
movement to go, he begged her to remain.

'You will all know it soon. It will be no secret, but I'd give a good
deal to have prevented it coming out now. May I begin from the
beginning?'

Then, taking a seat, he plunged into it at once.

'You know I found some papers in my father's cupboard. He knew of
them, but had never given me a hint of it, except that he had made me
promise to be home if possible last autumn. It appears that my
grandfather before he died made a codicil to his will, and handed it
over to the keeping of my father, forbidding him to ever show it to any
one, until the right time came to act upon it. I suppose the poor old
man may have wished to right matters a little, and had got over his
bitterness about my father's marriage. I know he took a good deal of
notice of me as a small boy, but I never dreamt he had any special
reason for it. The codicil simply transferred the whole of his
property from the hands of my uncle to myself when I should reach my
twenty-sixth year. This I did last September, and this accounts for my
father's anxiety to have me back at that time. It appears now that my
uncle's valet got wind of this--how, and where, I can't imagine--but he
told my uncle he knew my father held some important pape