, that is his affair. He is willing to trust you, and to
win your love. When we act from a sense of duty the way is apt to open
to us. I have never told you of my own earlier experience. I was not
so young as you are when I married Mr. Henderson, but I had not been
without the fancies and experiences of a young girl. I might have
yielded to one of them but for family reasons. My father had lost his
fortune and had died, disappointed and broken down. My mother, a lovely
woman, was not strong, was not capable of fighting the world alone,
and she depended upon me, for in those days I had plenty of courage and
spirit. Mr. Henderson was a widower whom we had known as a friend before
the death of his accomplished wife. In his lonesomeness he turned to me.
In our friendlessness I turned to him. Did I love him? I esteemed him,
I respected him, I trusted him, that was all. He did not ask more than
that. And what a happy life we had! I shared in all his great plans. And
when in the midst of his career, with such large ideas of public service
and philanthropy, he was stricken down, he left to me, in the confidence
of his love, all that fortune which is some day to be yours." Mrs.
Mavick put her handkerchief to her eyes. "Ah, well, our destiny is not
in our hands. Heaven raised up for me another protector, another friend.
Perhaps some of my youthful illusions have vanished, but should I have
been happier if I had indulged them? I know your dear father does not
think so."

"Mother," cried Evelyn, deeply moved by this unprecedented confidence,
"I cannot bear to see you suffer on my account. But must not every one
decide for herself what is right before God?"

At this inopportune appeal to a higher power Mrs. Mavick had some
difficulty in restraining her surprise and indignation at what she
considered her child's stubbornness. But she conquered the inclination,
and simply looked sad and appealing when she said:

"Yes, yes, you must decide for yourself. You must not consider your
mother as I did mine."

This cruel remark cut the girl to the heart. The world seemed to whirl
around her, right and wrong and duty in a confused maze. Was she, then,
such a monster of ingratitude? She half rose to throw herself at her
mother's feet, upon her mother's mercy. And at the moment it was not
her reason but her heart that saved her. In the moral confusion rose the
image of Philip. Suppose she should gain the whole world and lose
him! And it was