"I'm so glad you told me, for I must say, Hertha, you haven't shown much common sense. Why, Lee Merryvale's the one man in the world you can trust. You know that he resisted temptation. It isn't likely that the Lord'll lead him down such a difficult path again." "You mean----" Hertha cried excitedly. Ellen went on: "As to his not caring for you--if you'd seen him wandering around this place as I have, looking like a dog that's lost his mistress, you'd understand he isn't the sort that changes his mind every few weeks. He was worried sick when he couldn't find you in New York. We were all frightened, I'll confess now, but he was the worst. I've seen him digging in his garden, hour after hour, or working among the trees, acting as if he hadn't a friend in the world. I'm not excusing anything, don't think that, but I do believe in giving people credit for what they are and in understanding when they turn from wrong and do right." Suddenly her matter-of-fact mood changed. With a sob she took her little sister in her arms and kissed her again and again: "Don't say it was chance!" The tears were on her face. "I don't believe in chance. The Lord was watching over you all the time." CHAPTER XXXVII Hertha slept through the quiet night without moving but awakened with the birds at dawn. The first low twitterings fell upon deaf ears, but as the sounds grew brighter and more numerous, as one singer after another joined in the chorus, she moved lazily and opened her eyes. "Come to me, come to me," the red bird whistled; and his mate answered with a call of sweet compliance. "See what I'm doing, hurry up, hurry up," cried the mockingbird, repeating over and over his song of welcome. Rising from her bed, Hertha went to the window. The soft, dim light of dawn gained minute by minute in radiance as she stood looking out upon the familiar world. Beneath her window grew white lilies, wafting her with their fragrance. Violets, red roses, pink phlox, nodded their heads in greeting. The tall pines murmured a good-morning, and overhead stretched the great vault of sky each moment losing its depth of blue, its stars imperceptibly fading from sight. Every sight and sound and odor breathed the joy and hope of the dawning day. When she had taken her fill of deep breaths of the summer air she turned back to her room. On the floor were her two bags with which she had started on her journey eight months ago. Kathleen had gone to her Brooklyn home, packed and sent them on to her. They had arrived yesterday, but she had left them untouched, dreading to look at the contents. The morning however brought courage, and kneeling on the floor she took the larger of the two and pressed the lock.