He held the letter out to me.

“Read it, Helen?” he asked me.

“Please,” I said, “just tell me about it.  It is her own letter, John, and meant for you only.”

“She tells me I have been the best friend a girl ever had, and that if she gives me pain it will not be without a pang on her own part.  She says that the object of her being on earth is now revealed to her.”

“Yes,” I answered, “and then....”

“Then she announces her coming marriage with Dr. Farquhar, the man who has been in charge of the medical work of the Settlement.”

“You must write and tell her how happy you are to hear the good news, John, and you must tell her our plans.  And I want to talk very seriously to you, John.”

“What is it, dear?” he asked.

“Well,” I said, “I want to say that you have been very bad, because you didn’t believe me, or you only believed a little bit, when I told you she didn’t love you.  Now I expect you to have a great deal of respect for my opinions, in future.”

He promised, and said I was perfectly wonderful, and that he was the happiest man in the world.  And then, Aunt Jennie, we sat again ever so long without saying more than a few words.  And the stillness was like bars of a wonderful music whose notes one can’t remember but which leaves in one’s heart an impression of glorious melody.  One can’t write of such things, for I am sure that ink never flowed from a pen able really to describe that which lies in the hearts of men and women at such times.

And then Daddy came, smiling all over, for he spoke the truth indeed when he said my happiness was his only concern.  He’s the dearest Daddy in all the world.

CHAPTER XXII

Dr. Johnson to Mrs. Charlotte Johnson

Dearest Mother: 

You will rejoice to know that your son is now a happy man.  At one time the wrecking of the old Chandernagore bade fair to make me despair of ever being able to justify the sacrifices you underwent to help me with my education.  And now things look so bright and splendid that I can scarcely believe the marvelous luck that has befallen me.

Dr. Grant is strong and well again.  He is a fine fellow who has been doing great work in this place, and I have actually been chosen to continue it during his absence of a few months.  Mr. Jelliffe and he sent for me, a few days ago, after I returned from a trip to a near outport to see a sick woman, and asked me if I were willing to undertake it.  They also said that they were about to build a small hospital here, and that there would doubtless be work enough for two men during most of the year.  They offered me a steady compensation sufficient to mean surcease from worry and an opportunity to take a little care of you at last.  And the best part of it all lies in the character of the work, which is a fine one,