This little rift in the home-music had puzzled as well as troubled Phebe, but all at once it struck her that God perhaps meant her to see a parable in it, and that was how it was to work good for her. "Perhaps Ralph got away from God as Jack went away from me, because things weren't as he wanted them. But he'll get back again to God, as Jack has got back to me." And the parable comforted her, and inspired her. For God can take even the wayward doings of a petted child to teach His lessons and do His work. Jack made his way upstairs at once. "Good-morning, father," he said in his cheeriest tone, "it must be nice for you to be home again." "Yes, nicer for me than you, I suppose"--the words were snappish, but Ralph looked at the boy with a kind of look which plainly said: "You will do." The business books were brought, but he was far too weak to master them: "I'll attend to them when I'm stronger," he said. But each new day found him weaker. If ever a man lived in an atmosphere of love Ralph Waring did. How much of the old love had revived it would be difficult to say, if even any had. But it was a love which was willing to forego self to the utmost, and what love could be richer, more Christlike, than that? It was a true testing-time to Phebe. It was not easy to relinquish every thread of work in which she had been so deeply interested, and it was harder still, after being her own mistress so long, to submit patiently to that dictatorial voice! It was as though the Great Gardener had taken His cherished plant on to a bleak moorland to see how its blossoms would thrive where the winds blew all around it. All the town soon knew of Ralph Waring's return, and many were the comments on it. Some said it was "mighty good of Phebe to take the rascal back again," and showed how loving her heart was. Others said it showed that Ralph still loved her in spite of her having driven him from home, and that he could not die in peace away from her. It was not till the last day came that there was any proof that love had conquered. The doctor's prophecy had not come true, for he had lingered week after week, and even on this last day there seemed no change, except in manner and voice. "Phebe," the tone was even stronger than usual, but quite startling in its tenderness, "my life has been a failure. I see it all so plainly now." "This part may have been so, dear; but you must remember this is not all." She had a great longing to soothe and comfort him, but the moments were too precious and solemn to allow her to cover up the truth, however much she might be tempted. "Yes, but the future must be a good deal according to what the past has been." "Yes, maybe; but I love to think that out of all our tangles God can produce a beautiful design if we turn to Him with all our hearts."