ll a little child. "Out with it, lad--you are not quite happy about
Ventnor?"

"Father, how could you guess that?" returned David in a deprecating
voice. "If you knew how I hate myself for being so cowardly and
ungrateful. Promise me--promise me, dad, that you will never let
Elizabeth know how badly I feel about it; it would make her so unhappy."

"So it would, poor girl--so it would," rejoined Mr. Carlyon, for in his
eyes Elizabeth was still a girl, and the very dearest of daughters to
him.

"She and Dinah have planned it all for me," continued David. "I know
what a sacrifice it is to Dinah, for she does so dislike leaving home;
but she is doing it for Elizabeth's sake."

"You are doing it for Elizabeth's sake too, are you not, David?" asked
his father quietly. Then the harassed face brightened at once.

"Let me tell you all about it, dad," he returned eagerly--"it will be
such a comfort; you have often been my father-confessor before. If you
knew how my heart sank when Elizabeth begged me to go to Ventnor, and
yet how was I to refuse her when she said, with tears in her eyes, that
my consenting to the plan would probably give her a few more weeks of
happiness. You know how she meant it?"

"Oh yes, I know, David," in the same quiet tone.

"Of course, I could not refuse. I dared not be guilty of such
selfishness, for--after all, what does a little more pain matter?" and
here David drew a heavy sigh of intense weariness. "But I was so tired,
and then I knew that the battle would have to be fought all over again."

"I am not sure that I understand you, dear lad."

"No, because I am not making things clear; but I will try to do so, and
then you must help me. I have been a coward, father--that's the
truth--and have rebelled against my hard fate--God's will was not my
will, and I wanted to live and marry Elizabeth."

"Ay, David boy, I know."

"Yes, you know," with a sad, yearning look at the gray head bent now
upon the trembling hands. "You know that was how my mother felt when
she went so far away from us to die--she only consented to go because
she wanted to live."

"And it broke her heart to leave us," returned his father huskily.
"Dear heart, how she prayed that we might be spared that parting; but
the Divine Will ordered otherwise."

"I have prayed too," murmured David, "and then, thank God! the strength
and help I needed so sorely came. I have felt so peaceful lately, and
now the struggle will begin aga