ntial worth was
indicated by her talent to ask money from Thinkright for its
development, and certainly there was no one else to whom she would
turn. She reminded herself that right here came an opportunity to apply
the trust and confidence that her guardian was teaching her. It was
wrong to shiver under one shadow of doubt. The sun would not go out of
its course to shine upon her, but she was beginning to know that an
unfaithful consciousness was all that could prevent her coming into
that place where it would shine upon her.

"If it is right, the way will open. If it isn't right, then you don't
want it," was one of Thinkright's declarations; and for the rest she
had only to keep her mental home clean and fragrant, wholesome and
loving.

Sylvia's eyes rested on the graceful rolling billows advancing in
stately procession from the black clump of trees on Hawk Island.

The Father's Love had brought Edna Derwent a summer of play because she
needed it. The same love would bring Sylvia Lacey a season of work if
that were best. If it were not right to ask Thinkright for the help for
which she longed, then some other way would be provided. Supposing she
could succeed in some artistic line! Supposing instead of being a dead
weight upon her cousin, or at best an assistant to the housekeeper who
had been all-sufficient without her, she were able to help him; really
to help Thinkright as he grew older! The thought made her cheeks flush,
and her eyes grew soft. She bit her lip and closed her eyes.

"Not to send one doubting thought into the world," she reminded
herself. Then her thought arose. "Dear Father, Thou knowest my longing.
Help me to know the nothingness of every barricade to thy light that I
may receive what I need."

After a minute she looked up to see the waters foaming gently away from
her nest. They never reached it except in a storm. At the same moment
her eye caught a sailboat entering the broad path of water that led to
the Tide Mill. She leaned forward to see the better, and recognized
Benny Merritt. She noticed that he had a passenger, but the sail hid
all but the woman's skirt from the watcher.

"Miss Derwent is coming to see us," thought Sylvia in a flash, and
started to her feet. The tide was high enough for the boatman to go
into the basin and land at the nearest point to the farm.

Not so. Benny steered his craft for the same rock-sheltered point where
he had landed Miss Derwent the last time.

Sy