still remained lowered,
and there was perfect silence. It was broken by Elfie's return from
the garden with the girls; and without a word Clare crept softly away
up to her own room, and Miss Villars left without seeing her again.

But up in her room Clare was kneeling by her bedside in a passion of
tears.

'O God, help me, help me! I want to be right with Thee, I want this
rest of soul; give it to me. Oh, if Thou art waiting to bless, I am
ready, I am willing. Forgive me and save me for Christ's sake. Amen.'

She had never prayed so earnestly before.

CHAPTER XI

Agatha's Legacy

One by one, bright gifts from Heaven,
Joys are sent thee here below;
Take them readily when given,
Ready, too, to let them go.'--_Adelaide Procter._

'Why, Agatha, what is the matter? You look quite scared! No bad news
by the post, is it?'

Elfie asked the question one morning as she came into the dining-room
to breakfast, and found Agatha staring out of the window with troubled
eyes, and letting the brass kettle boil over on the white tablecloth
with the greatest indifference.

She turned round and faced Elfie with pale cheeks.

'Mr. Lester is dead. It seems so sudden. He caught cold and died on
the voyage out to Australia. And his lawyer writes to tell me about
it.'

Elfie looked startled.

'Must we turn out of the house?'

'That is the strange part of it. The lawyer says he had a visit from
Mr. Lester before he went, in which he informed him he was going to
leave this house to me unconditionally, and a codicil has been added to
his will to that effect.'

'Why, Agatha, I can hardly believe it! He must have fallen in love
with you on the spot. Whatever induced him to think of such a thing?'

'I am sure I don't know, unless he was afraid of his cupboard. When I
say he leaves the house to us unconditionally, that is the only
condition he makes, that we live in the house and keep that cupboard
locked till his son returns, and then let him have the contents. He
told the lawyer he had left it to me as a trust, and he knew I was a
woman of honour, so he would have no anxiety about it. And in return
for this he bequeaths to us the house for good and all. I wonder what
his son will say to it, if he ever does come back! I hardly know what
to do about it. It seems so very extraordinary!'

But, extraordinary as it was, Agatha found on further correspondence
that it was a fact. The house was