struggle
this night out on the prairie strengthen my soul to bear it all, I
wonder.

The next morning a package addressed in Marjie's round girlish hand was
put before me. Forgetful of resolve, I sent back by its bearer an
imploring appeal for a chance to meet her and clear up the terrible
misunderstanding. The note came back unopened. I gave it with the bundle
to Aunt Candace.

"Keep this for me, auntie, dear," I said, and my voice trembled. She
took it from my hand.

"All right, Phil, I'll keep it. You are not at the end of things,
dearie. You are only at the beginning. I'll keep this. It is only
keeping, remember." She pointed to a stain on the unopened note, the
round little blot only a tear can make. "It isn't yours, I know."

It was the first touch of comfort I had felt. However slender the
thread, Hope will find it strong to cling to. Rachel's visit ended that
day. Self-centred always, she treated me as one who had been foolish,
but whom she considered her admirer still. It was not in her nature to
be rejected. She shaped things to fit her vanity, and forgot what could
not be controlled. I refused to allow myself to be alone with her again.
Nobody was ever so tied to a woman's presence as I kept myself by Aunt
Candace so long as I remained in the house.

My father, I knew, was grieved and indignant. With all my fair promises
and pretended loyalty I seemed to be an idle trifler. How could my
relation to Lettie Conlow be explained away in the light of this visit
from a handsome cultured young lady, who had had an assurance of welcome
or she would not have come. He loved Marjie as the daughter of his
dearest friend. He had longed to call her, "daughter," and I had
foolishly thrown away a precious prize.

Serious, too, was my reckless neglect of business. I had disregarded his
request to manage a grave matter. Instead of going alone to the cabin, I
had gone off with a pretty girl and reported that I had found nothing.

"Did you go near the cabin?" He drove the question square at me, and I
had sullenly answered, "No, sir." Clearly I needed more discipline than
the easy life in Springvale was giving me. I went down to the office in
the afternoon, hoping for something, I hardly knew what. He was alone,
and I asked for a few words with him. Somehow I seemed more of a man to
myself than I had ever felt before in his presence.

"Father," I began. "When the sea did its worst for you--fifteen years
ago--you came to