"I don't think we are rewarded if we do right, but we are punished if
we lie. It's the fashion to laugh at poetic justice, but I do believe
in half of it. Cast bitter bread upon the waters, and after many days it
really will come back to you." These were the words of Mr. Failing. They
were also the opinions of Stewart Ansell, another unpractical person.
Rickie was trying to write to him when she entered with the good news.

"Dear, we're saved! He doesn't know, and he never is to know. I can't
tell you how glad I am. All the time we saw them standing together up
there, she wasn't telling him at all. She was keeping him out of the
way, in case you let it out. Oh, I like her! She may be unwise, but she
is nice, really. She said, 'I've been a fool but I haven't been a fool
twice.' You must forgive her, Rickie. I've forgiven her, and she me; for
at first I was so angry with her. Oh, my darling boy, I am so glad!"

He was shivering all over, and could not reply. At last he said, "Why
hasn't she told him?"

"Because she has come to her senses."

"But she can't behave to people like that. She must tell him."

"Because he must be told such a real thing."

"Such a real thing?" the girl echoed, screwing up her forehead.
"But--but you don't mean you're glad about it?"

His head bowed over the letter. "My God--no! But it's a real thing. She
must tell him. I nearly told him myself--up there--when he made me look
at the ground, but you happened to prevent me."

How Providence had watched over them!

"She won't tell him. I know that much."

"Then, Agnes, darling"--he drew her to the table "we must talk together
a little. If she won't, then we ought to."

"WE tell him?" cried the girl, white with horror. "Tell him now, when
everything has been comfortably arranged?"

"You see, darling"--he took hold of her hand--"what one must do is to
think the thing out and settle what's right, I'm still all trembling and
stupid. I see it mixed up with other things. I want you to help me.
It seems to me that here and there in life we meet with a person or
incident that is symbolical. It's nothing in itself, yet for the moment
it stands for some eternal principle. We accept it, at whatever costs,
and we have accepted life. But if we are frightened and reject it, the
moment, so to speak, passes; the symbol is never offered again. Is this
nonsense? Once before a symbol was offered to me--I shall not tell you
how; but I did accept it, and c