Dorian was somewhat nonplused by this fulsome outburst.  He could not for a moment find anything to say.  The two men looked at each other for a moment as if each were measuring the other.  Then Mr. Lamont said: 

“If at any time I can help you, let me know—­call on me.  Now you’ll have to excuse me as I have some business matters to attend to.”

Dorian was dismissed.

The disappearance of Carlia Duke continued to be a profound mystery.  The weeks went by, and then the months.  The gossips found other and newer themes.  Those directly affected began to think that all hopes of finding her were gone.

Dorian, however, did not give up.  In the strenuous labors of closing summer and fall he had difficulty in keeping his mind on his work.  His imagination ranged far and wide, and when it went into the evil places of the world, he suffered so that he had to throw off the suggestion by force.  He talked freely with his mother and with Carlia’s parents on all possible phases of the matter, until, seemingly, there was nothing more to be said.  To others, he said nothing.

Ever since Dorian had been taught to lisp his simple prayers at his mother’s knee, he had found strength and comfort in going to the Lord.  With the growth of his knowledge of the gospel and his enlarged vision of God’s providences, his prayers became a source of power.  Uncle Zed had taught him that this trustful reliance on a higher power was essential to his progress.  The higher must come to the help of the lower, but the lower must seek for that help and sincerely accept it when offered.  As a child, his prayers had been very largely a set form, but as he had come in contact with life and its experiences, he had learned to suit his prayers to his needs.  Just now, Carlia and her welfare was the burden of his petitions.

The University course must wait another year, so Dorian and his mother decided.  They could plainly see that one more year would be needed, besides Dorian was not in a condition to concentrate his mind on study.  So, when the long evenings came on again, he found solace in his books, and read again many of dear Uncle Zed’s writings which had been addressed so purposely to him.

One evening in early December Dorian and his mother were cosily “at home” to any good visitors either of persons or ideas.  Dorian was looking over some of his papers.

“Mother, listen to this,” he said.  “Here is a gem from Uncle Zed which I have not seen before.”  He read: 

“’The acquisition of wealth brings with it the obligation of helping the poor; the acquisition of knowledge brings with it the obligation of teaching others; the acquisition of strength and power brings with it the obligation of helping the weak.  This is what God does when He says that His work and His glory is to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man’.”

“How true that is,” said the mother.