God who was Love,--his God. One who
gave him happiness and content. Why should she resist? Was there really
such a God? if so, then He had led her to this unheard-of and
unsuspected cousin, the one being in the universe who granted her the
right to be, her right to rest in his care and protection.

With the thought came a novel rush of gratitude to the unknown God of
whom she had never thought as a friend, a Father, One to count upon.
She had turned her head on the pillow last night and buried her eyes
with a certain gladness and hope.

In quiet she had sat through the hurried breakfast hour this morning,
in serenity had bade the guest good-by, and with a novel ambition had
asked Mrs. Lem to be allowed to assist her. A wakened sense, a new
outlook on the world, filled her consciousness now while the
housekeeper rambled on.

Edna Derwent had everything. Very well, it was the lesson that
Thinkright had set her, to be willing that Edna should have it, to put
away that heat of envy which had been like a sharp tooth at her vain
heart. In the exaltation that followed yielding herself to the learning
of this lesson a sense of humor had little place; so she listened
intently to the substance of Mrs. Lem's information with scarcely a
smile at its manner.

"I tell you, though, money won't buy everything," went on the
housekeeper, scalding a fresh panful of china. "Here's a fresh wiper,
Miss Sylvy. Mr. Derwent's ben entirely incapacitated for business or
pleasure for years. What good's his money to him? All them luxuriant
carriages and high-steppin' charges,--he'd give 'em all, I guess, to be
able to walk off ten miles the way Thinkright can, and him his own
age."

"It must be hard for Miss Derwent," returned Sylvia, able to-day to
accept this idea.

"Jest so," agreed Mrs. Lem. "The more that her mother jest loves
society and fine doin's and pines after 'em, so that Edna, who loves
both father and mother, is caught betwixt the upper and nether
grindstone, as the old sayin' is, and has the life about squoze out of
her sometimes."

Sylvia bit her lip. "It's difficult to imagine it," she replied, "when
one sees her so bright and happy as she has been here."

"Yes, this is the Hawk Island Miss Derwent. I've heard the other side
from Thinkright. I lived over on the island summers when she and her pa
and ma used to be there together, but I never knew any of 'em. I used
to see the child rampagin' around the rocks in sneakers