In so far as I could feel anything, the knowledge that I was still to have my club work gratified me.  The twenty dollars a week which it paid me, while not large, would preserve my independence until I could gain courage to go back to my teaching.

For one feeling obsessed me, was strong enough to penetrate the lethargy of mind and body into which Dicky’s letter had thrown me.  I spoke of it to Lillian one day.

“Do—­not—­use—­any—­of—­Dicky’s—­money,” I said slowly and painfully.  “My—­own—­bank—­book—­in—­desk.”

She took it out, and I also gave her the bank book and papers my father had given me the day before he left for South America.

“Keep—­them—­for—­me,” I whispered, and then at her tender comprehending smile, I had a sudden revelation.

“Then—­you—­know—­” Astonishment made my voice stronger.

“That Robert Gordon is your father?” she returned briskly.  “Bless you, child, I’ve suspected it ever since I first heard of his emotion on hearing the names of your parents.  But nobody else knows, I didn’t think it necessary to tell your mother-in-law or Katie, unless, of course, you want me to do so.”

Her smile was so cheery, so infectious, that I could not help but smile back at her.  There was still something on my mind, however.

“This house must be closed,” I told her.  “Try to find positions for Katie and Jim.”

“I’ll attend to everything,” she promised, and I did not realize that her words meant directly opposite to the interpretation I put upon them, until after myself and all my personal belongings had been moved to Lillian’s apartment in the city, and I had thrown off the terrible physical weakness and mental lethargy which had been mine.

“I had to do as I thought best about the house in Marvin, Madge,” she said firmly.  “I thoroughly respect your feeling about using any of Dicky’s money for your own expenses, but you are not living in the Marvin house.  It is simply Dicky’s home, which as his friend, commissioned to see after his affairs, I am going to keep in readiness for his return, unless I receive other instructions from him.  Jim and Katie will stay there as caretakers until this horrible mistake, whatever it may be, is cleared up.  Thus your home will be always waiting for you.”

“Never my home again, I fear, Lillian,” I said sadly.

There is no magic of healing like that held in the hands of a little child.  It was providential for me that, a short time after Lillian took me to the apartment which had been home to her for years, her small daughter, Marion, was restored to her.

The child’s father died suddenly, after all, and to Lillian fell the task of caring for and comforting the old mother of the man who had done his best to spoil Lillian’s life.  She brought the aged and feeble sufferer to the apartment, established her in the bedroom which Lillian had always kept for herself, and engaged a nurse to care for her.  When I recalled Lillian’s story, remembered that her first husband’s mother without a jot of evidence to go upon had believed her son’s vile accusations against Lillian, my friend’s forgiveness seemed almost divine to me.  I am afraid I never could have equaled it.  When I said as much to Lillian, she looked at me uncomprehendingly.