“What did you say to him?  I will know!” exclaimed Mrs. Evringham passionately.

Eloise was mute, and her eyes besought her mother.

“Speak, I say!  Was it Christian Science?  Did you dare, Eloise Evringham, did you dare spoil your life—­my life—­our future, by scaring Dr. Ballard with that bugbear?” The angry woman was breathing fast.

“Mother dear, don’t give us something so painful to remember.  Don’t, I beg of you.  Dr. Ballard does not reproach me.  He thinks I shall change, and he wishes to give me time to see if I do.  Think of him, if you will not think of me.  He would be so shocked to have you take it this way.  If you could have seen how kind he was, how patient.  Dear mother, don’t cry.  It isn’t anything I can help, unless I should deliberately turn dishonest.”

But Mrs. Evringham did cry, and heartily.  She hurried away to her own room as quickly as possible, and locked the door against Eloise, who lay awake for hours with a strange mingling of regret and joy at her heart, and a constant declaring of the truth.

At midnight the girl heard the door unlock and saw her mother emerge.

“Darling mamma!” she exclaimed, springing out of bed.

“Oh, Eloise,” moaned the poor woman, dissolving again upon her child’s shoulder.  “I never went to bed without your kiss, and I can’t bear it.  How can you be so cru—­cru—­cruel!”

“Darling, everything is going to come right,” returned Eloise, holding her close.  “Nothing good would come of doing wrong.  I never loved you so much as now.  I never saw duty so plainly.  Dearest, in one way I suffer for you, but still I was never so happy.  I have grasped the end of the clue that will surely lead us safely through the labyrinth, no matter what life brings.  You will see, mamma dear, after a while you will see.  Don’t go back.  Come into my bed.”

Disconsolately Mrs. Evringham obeyed, and in a few minutes, worn out with emotion, she had sobbed herself to sleep in her child’s arms; and although for many days afterward she wore a languid air, and declared that there was nothing to live for, she yielded herself to Eloise’s courageous and quietly joyful atmosphere, with silent wonder at her child’s altered outlook.

On the morning following the painful interview with her mother, Eloise presented herself in Jewel’s room at the usual hour.

Smiling, she approached the child and exhibited three fresh new books.  India paper editions of the Bible and “Science and Health,” and the little brown pamphlet were in her hands.

“Yours?” exclaimed the child.

Eloise nodded.

“Good, good!” Jewel hopped up and down, and forthwith brought Anna Belle to have her share in the rejoicing.

“You were afraid you couldn’t get them.  Now see!” cried the child triumphantly.  “As if Divine Love couldn’t send you those books!”

“He showed me a way,” returned the girl.  “See where I’ve written my name.  I want you to put ‘Jewel’ right under it in each one.”