“By daylight; the earlier the better,” she returned, earnestly. “Every moment here is full of pain for me.” “Very well; there is a six o’clock train—the workingmen’s train—into New York; we will take it, and find a home for ourselves somewhere in the city. But how about your school, Star? They will seek for you there.” “I will go to Professor Roberts and tell him that circumstances compel me to leave, and ask him for a recommendation to some other institute. There are others in the city where they would never dream of looking for me, and where I can graduate next year, as I have planned to do.” “It shall be just as you wish, my dear; I feel that I am doing you no wrong in gratifying you. You shall be like a young daughter to me, and I—I promise I will be no burden to you, notwithstanding that I am old and feeble,” Mr. Rosevelt answered, with a sad smile. “A burden!” Star repeated, with quivering lips. “Oh, please do not imagine such a thing! It is _you_ who are to take care of me and shield me until I graduate, for without you to help me bear the responsibility, I should not dare to take such a step.” Mr. Rosevelt smiled again. “You try to make the obligation appear all your own; but I share it, nevertheless; and I think you and I will be far happier away from the unpleasant influences which have surrounded us during the past year. I am quite anticipating the change, I assure you. Now you must go to rest. You look more like a ghost than a star just now; and my heart has been deeply pained to-night for the suffering that you have had to endure; but I believe it will yet be made up to you in some way,” he concluded, with grave thoughtfulness. He sat regarding her earnestly for a few moments. Then he said, while his eyes were fixed questioningly on her face: “This is a different kind of a storm, child, from the one which you and I passed through at sea. Your faith was strong then; you were not afraid to die; how is it now? Do you believe your God rules this kind of a storm also?” There was a skeptical smile on the old man’s lips, and a bitterness in his tone as he asked this, which filled the young girl’s heart with remorse. She looked up at him with a startled glance, while her pained face almost instantly relaxed into an expression of trustfulness and peace. “Uncle Jacob,” she said, with a solemn sweetness which impressed him deeply, “you could not have said anything for which I should thank you more—you have recalled me to myself. I should not have forgotten for a moment that God rules everywhere and over everything. Yes, I _believe_ He knows best, even though I cannot _understand_ why I must suffer this bitter trial.” The old man sighed deeply, and his face was very grave. “Good-night!” he said, abruptly, and rising, led her to the door.