s-roots where he was born, he would not have been caught. Yes,
conduct is fate for a captive caterpillar as well as for man."

"And yet who can foresee?" said Alick. "We all walk in the dark
blindfold."

"As you say, who can foresee? That makes perhaps the hardship of it, but
it does not alter the fact. Blindly walking or with our eyes wide open,
our steps determine our destiny, and our goal is reached by our own
endeavors. We ourselves are the artificers of our lives, and mould them
according to our own pattern."

"But that part of our lives which is under the influence of another? How
can we manipulate that?" said Alick. "Love and loss are twin powers
which create or crush without our co-operation."

"I only know one irreparable manner of loss--that by death," said Mr.
Gryce steadfastly. "For all others while there is life there is hope,
and I hold nothing, beyond the power of the will to remedy."

"I wish I could believe that," Alick sighed again; and again Mr. Gryce
said cheerily, "Then take that too on trust, and believe me if you do
not believe in your own inborn elasticity, your own power of doing and
undoing."

"There are some things which can never come right when they have once
gone wrong," said Alick.

"You think so? I know very few," his companion answered in the hearty,
inspiriting manner which he had used all through the interview, talking
with a broader accent and lisping less than usual, looking altogether
more manly and less cherubic than his wont. "I am a believer myself in
the power of the will and holding on." After a pause he added suddenly,
"You would be really glad of a small living, no matter where situated,
nor how desolate and unimportant, where you would be sole master?"

"Yes," said Alick. "If I could win over one soul to the higher life, I
should count myself repaid for all my exertions. We must all have our
small beginnings."

"I am an odd old fellow, as you know, Mr. Corfield," laughed Emmanuel
Gryce. "Give me your hand: I can sometimes see a good deal of the future
in the hand."

Alick blushed and looked awkward, but he gave his bony, ill-shaped hand
all the same.

After a little while, during which Mr. Gryce had bent this finger this
way and that finger another way, had counted the lines made by the
bended wrist, and had talked half to himself of the line of Jupiter and
the line of Saturn, the line of life and that of Venus, he said quietly,
"You will have your wish, and so