"Yes, that is so; but still he wanted us to go." Stephen was looking intently into the fire, evidently weighing some thought over. "Perhaps I had better tell you, Ralph secured his berth to Sydney three months ago." "One berth?" "Yes." "May I ask how you know?" "I made inquiries, as I thought it would rest your mind to know exactly where he had gone." "And you think----" began Phebe. "I think," interrupted Stephen, anxious to save her all the pain he could, "that it was not his intention to take you with him." Only God knew what it cost that man to say those words; it seemed to him that he was giving this crushed woman an extra stab, but it was only to save her all he could of future pain. He wanted to keep her from building on the hope that her husband would send for her, for he believed in his heart that Ralph was only too glad to be relieved from the responsibility of providing for wife and children. "Perhaps it was much better he should go with a free hand," was all Phebe said. She wanted very much to ask Stephen to tell her all he knew, all he thought, but dared not do so; something held her back--something which told her there was a wound in that man's heart she might not touch nor look upon. "He will send for me some day," she said, after another pause; but still Stephen did not answer. It was such a hard struggle to keep himself well in hand--so hard to keep from cursing the man who had stolen his love from him, and who, because she had not brought him the dowry he had hoped for, had basely deserted her! Phebe thought he was busy turning over ways and means as to how she was to run the business; instead of that he was praying for strength and calmness. She got up from her seat and, standing by him, put her hand on his arm and said gently, "Stephen!"--that was how she used to call him--"you must not trouble about me. I shall battle through all right. God will help me. See these beautiful words I came across yesterday," and she picked up the Bible and read the words over again. He took the Bible and looked at the page, but the words were all in a mist. "There is not the slightest doubt but that He will help you," he managed to say. "My heart is not perfect," she continued, "but He knows I want it to be." "But don't forget, Phebe--Mrs. Waring," he said, turning towards her, as they both stood facing the fire, "that God works through human agents--very often does so." "I know He does," she replied, "and I think He prompted my sister last night to offer me the use of her money. I would have said 'Yes' at once, only I know it would vex father. Still, if no other way opens I shall accept her kind offer. So you see things will shape themselves--no, be shapened--all right. Reynolds is such a good 'stay-by' for me, and a commercial this morning let me order a lot of things, although I could not pay his account."