, Sylvia?"

"No, no!" she exclaimed vehemently, for instantly a vision of Nat rose
before her. "I"--she hesitated, looked out again to the water and back
at her cousin. She was sorely tempted to tell him, but the old motive
restrained her in time. That was not the way for the solution to come,
merely by making herself a heavier tax upon Thinkright's simple
fortunes.

"Then you have some definite idea of what you would like to do?" he
asked.

His manner was quiet, but there was a note of mental exultation within
him at the healthful symptom.

"Yes, but it isn't time yet to tell you of it."

He put his arm around her. "Very well. What more can we wish to be sure
of than Omnipotence and Omnipresence. You know that it is only good
that is constructive. Evil is destructive, and in the end even destroys
itself. So long as you want only good you are safe in the everlasting
arms and are blessed." The speaker changed his position and his tone.

"This is rest enough now for me, little girl. I must be up and doing,
for we want to get that boat of yours out of dry dock."

It was about a week later that Sylvia made her first visit to Hawk
Island. Thinkright sailed her over. It was the longest trip she had
made by water, and the changing aspect of mainland and islands from
each new viewpoint delighted her.

The landmark which most interested her was the dark clump of trees by
which she had always distinguished Hawk Island. It began to spread and
alter in form as they approached, until it became a low forest,
cresting the hill which gradually rose some seventy feet above the
water. At last they entered a still cove which made a natural harbor in
the island's side, and there Thinkright moored his boat. As soon as
they stepped out upon the shore Sylvia saw a girl hurrying toward them
down the sloping grass, and waving her hand. She wore a short dark
skirt and a white waist and no hat.

"We've been watching you with the glass," she said, greeting them.
"Your note came last night. I'm so glad you had such a perfect
morning."

Her cheeks were brown and her eyes danced with good cheer. "Why, Miss
Sylvia, your aunt told me; yet I was not prepared to see such a change.
There's nothing like Casco Bay, is there?"

Sylvia's gaze clung to the vivacious face, and she had a realization of
the small part which time plays in our mental processes. It seemed to
her that transforming years had passed since that evening when she
shivered o