Things hadn't been so unequal after all. The wise God, who had set her life thus far in the midst of poverty, had given her with which to fight it the wit and resource which fashion weapons out of materials which more favoured mortals cast away. That greatest of gifts bestowed upon the daughters of men had been hers--the creative touch. At last she recognized it, and knew it for what it was. Using this good gift she had learned other things than the making of clothes! A great warm surge of joy and understanding enveloped Georgiana Warne as Jefferson Craig, having led her into the dining-room and placed her ceremoniously in her chair, bent over her where she sat, saying softly: "This place has been waiting a long time at the bachelor's board. Now that I see it filled--like this--I know how well worth while it's been to wait." He took the place opposite her. With a nod at the boy Thomas, he dismissed him for the moment. He looked across the table, rich with the finest appointments in his house, arranged by a housekeeper who heartily approved his everyday simplicity of life, but who exulted to-night in the chance to show the lady of his choice the fine old heirlooms of silver and damask which were to come to her. Smiling, he lifted a delicately chased goblet of water which stood beside his plate. "To my wife!" he said. Georgiana, raising the face of a rose, took up her own glass. She looked at it a moment, her eyes like dark twin fires, her lips taking on lovely curves. Then she lifted it toward the man opposite. "To--_you_!" "Still afraid?" asked Jefferson Craig, watching her as one watches only that which is the delight of his eyes. "Never mind; I'll teach you by and by the word I want to hear." * * * * * Upstairs, the slender figure on the bed stirred from the brief sleep which had claimed it. Father Davy opened his eyes again upon the firelit room and the pleasant comfort which surrounded him. "Before they come," he thought, "I must tell my Father how I feel about it. I was too tired even to pray. But I am quite rested now." He slipped down gently to his knees and closed his eyes, folding his thin hands on the heavy white counterpane before him. "Dear God," he said, "I have the desire of my heart--the answer to my prayers--and I am very glad to-night. Yet Thou knowest my heart is heavy, too--with longing for my Phoebe. Tell her, Father, that her child is happy in the love of the best man she could have asked for. And tell her that David loves and longs for her to-night with the love that will never die. For that love that will not die in spite of years and pain I thank Thee. If it may be, give our child the same blessed experience. And teach us to love and serve Thee, world without end, Amen." CHAPTER XXIII WHY NOT? "There's just one more thing to be settled," observed Dr. Jefferson Craig. "While we are settling things, suppose we attend to that."