There must have been something magnetic in his gaze, for she raised her
white lids just then, and met the earnest, wistful look bent upon her.

A flush leaped to her cheek, and her violet eyes dropped instantly upon
her plate again, while her heart fluttered like a caged wild bird.

"I will gladly wait your time, Mr. Heath," Mr. Abbot responded, in a
satisfied tone. "I begin to think that your losing your way and falling to
our care last evening was providential."

"I have no doubt of it, sir," was the grave and reverent reply. "I believe
that all our ways are ordered for us; that everything is arranged for us
by an All-wise Power."

Something very like a sneer curled the almost colorless lips of his host
at this unexpected assertion.

Mr. Abbot was no believer in the individuality of God, and had spoken both
lightly and at random when he had referred to the young man's visit as
being providential.

"What do you mean by an All-wise Power?" he asked, skeptically.

"I mean God, sir."

"You believe there is a God, then?"

"Certainly; do you not?" and Mr. Heath's kind, grave eyes looked pityingly
into the haggard, sunken face before him.