"It is my dream. The very thing I wished and managed so vilely. If

Lovedy were alive! Though perhaps that is not the thing to wish. But I

can't bear taking your--"

"Hush! You can't do worse than separate your own from mine. This is no

part of the means I laid before Mr. Martin by way of proving myself

a responsible individual. I took care of that. Part of this is

prize-money, and the rest was a legacy that a rich old merchant put me

down for in a transport of gratitude because his son was one of the sick

in the bungalow where the shell came. I have had it these three or four

months, and wondered what to do with it."

"This will be very beautiful, very excellent. And we can give the

ground."

"I have thought of another thing. I never heard of an industrial school

where the great want was not food for industry. Now I know the Colonel

and Mr. Mitchell have some notion floating in their minds about getting

a house for convalescents down here, and it strikes me that this might

supply the work in cooking, washing, and so on. I think I might try what

they thought of it."

Rachel could only weep out her shame and thankfulness, and when Alick

reverently added that it was a scheme that would require much thought

and much prayer, the pang struck her to the heart--how little she had

prayed over the F. U. E. E. The prayer of her life had been for action

and usefulness, but when she had seen the shadow in the stream, her

hot and eager haste, her unconscious detachment from all that was

not visible and material had made her adhere too literally to that

misinterpreted motto, laborare est orare. How should then her eyes be

clear to discern between substance and shadow?




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