That dinner was the most soothing meal of which I had ever partaken.  I did the carving, my companions did the questioning, and nearly all the conversation was about myself.  Ordinarily I would not have liked this, but every word which was said by these two fair ladies—­for the sweetness of the mother was merely more seasoned than that of the daughter—­was so filled with friendly interest that it gratified me to make my answers.

They seemed to have heard a great deal about me during my wanderings through Cathay.  They knew, of course, that I had stopped with the Putneys, for I had told them that, but they had also heard that I had spent a night at the Holly Sprig, and had afterwards stayed with the Larramies.  But of anything which had happened which in the slightest degree had jarred upon my feelings they did not appear to have heard the slightest mention.

I might have supposed that only good and happy news thought it worth while to stop at that abode of peace.  As I looked upon the serene and tender countenance of Mrs. Burton I wondered how a cloud rising from want of sympathy with early peas ever could have settled over this little family circle; but it was the man who had caused the cloud.  I knew it.  It is so often the man.

When we had finished dinner and had gone out to sit in the cool shadows of the piazza, I let my gaze rest as often as I might upon the fair face of that young girl.  Several times her eyes met mine, but their lids never drooped, their tender light did not brighten.  I felt that she was so truly glad to see me that her pleasure in the meeting was not affected one way or the other by the slight incident of my looking at her.

If ever a countenance told of innocence, purity, and truth, her countenance told of them.  I believe that if she had thought it pleased me to look at her, it would have pleased her to know that it gave me pleasure.

As I talked with her and looked at her, and as I looked at her mother and talked with her, it was impressed upon me that if there is one thing in this world which is better than all else, it is peace, that peace which comprises so many forms of happiness and deep content.  That the thoughts which came to me could come to a heart so lacerated, so torn, so full of pain as mine had been that morning, seemed wonderful, and yet they came.

Once or twice I tried to banish these thoughts.  It seemed disrespectful to myself to entertain them so soon after other thoughts which I now wished to banish utterly.  I am not a hero of romance.  I am only a plain human being, and such is the constitution of my nature that the more troubled and disturbed is my soul, the more welcome is purity, truth, and peace.

But, after all, my feelings were not quite natural, and the change in them was too sudden.  It was the consequence of too violent a reaction, but, such as it was, it was complete.  I would not be hasty.  I would not be deficient in self-respect.  But if at that moment I had known that this was the time to declare what I wished to have, I would unhesitatingly have asked for beauty, purity, and peace.