“I’ll tell you what I meant, Tom—what you have never understood—never realized.” Her face was very earnest, very serious. “You say my stepfather is—is no good. Well, you’re right. He is no good as the world judges those things—and maybe as God judges them, too. But he’s the man my mother loved—there’s no getting away from that, Tom—she loved him; and she died loving him, and with the whisper on her lips telling me to help him and care for him as long as he lived.” She laughed—a curious little laugh that seemed to catch in her throat. “I never told you that, did I, Tom? I was only fourteen then—but that day, talking there with mother, I thought out my creed—my religion. To do the right thing always. Tom—that’s it—that’s all there is to it. Not the thing that may look best for me at the time or even right for me—but the just thing—the right thing in the eyes of God.” Her delicate little face grew wistful with the memories the words evoked. She had never spoken to Tom—or to any one—like this before. She had hardly realized until now as she put it into words, how much this simple creed of hers had come to mean to her—how unconsciously she had used it as her guiding star, through all these dreary, mournful years that followed her mother’s death. She had been unhappy, she knew; and yet not unhappy, either, since happiness came with the knowledge that she was doing the right thing. And then Tom had come—Tom with his love that had awakened hers, with the promised fulfilment of all her girlish dreams. It was hard for Tom—hard for her, too, when now the right thing made them deny love. But still, she had gone on trusting—hoping, blindly hoping—just waiting for God to work it out in His own way—the way that would be right for them all. And she was sorry now—and a little frightened—that she had never let Tom understand. Her eyes were dim and soft with tenderness as she leaned forward toward him. “_That_ you can understand, Tom. It’s very simple, isn’t it? And don’t you see, that’s just what father never has done. It has always been the right thing as he saw it, yes—but the right thing for himself—always the right thing for himself. “And somehow, Tom, it doesn’t seem to work out, when you only figure the right thing for yourself. I don’t just mean that it hurts or sacrifices others—but somehow, some way, it don’t work out for you—yourself. It looks all right—you can’t see why it isn’t all right. But there’s something working against it—some law of nature—or God maybe—or something—and it just don’t work out. I believe that, Tom—I believe it absolutely—and—and no matter how hard it is, I’m trying to live up to it. I promised mother that.” Tom moistened his dry lips. “Then so long as he lives you—you—” She put her hand over his mouth.