“I try to think of Gabriella,” she answered, “but I oughtn’t to forget poor Jane.  Whenever I remember her, I begin to reproach myself.”

“Don’t reproach yourself, Fanny.  There is nothing on earth for which you can justly be blamed.  I am sure you have never considered your own wishes for a minute in your life.  If ever a mother gave up everything for her children, you have done so, Fanny, and you needn’t deny it.  But tell me about Gabriella.  How thankful you ought to be that she has given up that work in a store!”

“If it had been God’s will, I suppose I must have borne it, Lydia, but I felt as if it was killing me.”

“The dear child has a strong character,” observed Mrs. Peyton, and it seemed to her, while she thought of Gabriella, that a strong character was a beautiful and wonderful thing.

“You would hardly know Gabriella, she is so changed,” replied Mrs. Carr.  “I declare I sometimes think that I never saw a girl so wildly in love as she is.  She positively worships George, and when I look at her, I remember Becky Bollingbroke’s saying that a smart woman in love is worse than a silly one.  She has that much more to get foolish with, poor Becky used to say.

“How happy it must make you,” murmured the other.  “There is nothing in life I’d rather see than my Arthur happily married.”

“I always thought that he and Gabriella were made for each other, but one never can tell—­”

“That must be Gabriella now,” said Mrs. Peyton as the bell rang.  “Is she coming for you?”

“Yes, Cousin Jimmy was to bring her, and then drive me out to Hollywood.  Isn’t that Arthur’s voice talking to her?”

“Poor boy,” whispered Mrs. Peyton, and then she rustled forward and enveloped Gabriella in a warm embrace.  “My darling girl, your mother has just told me,” she said.

“And Gabriella has just told me,” added Arthur at her elbow.  Though there was a hurt look in his eyes, his manner was perfect.  Years afterwards, whenever Gabriella thought of him, she remembered how perfect his manner was on that morning.

“I wanted you to know first of all,” said Gabriella.

As the old lady looked at her with loving eyes, it seemed to her that the girl was softly glowing with happiness.  She accepted joy as she accepted sorrow, with quietness, but there was a look in her face which made her appear, for the moment, transfigured.  A radiance like that of a veiled flame shone in her eyes; the cool tones of her voice had grown richer and gentler; and at last, as Mrs. Peyton said to herself, Gabriella, the sensible and practical Gabriella, was sweet with the honeysuckle sweetness of Jane.

“She must be over head and ears in love,” she thought; and the next minute, “I wonder how it will end?”

The question brought a pang to her kind old heart, which longed to make everybody, and particularly her boy Arthur, happy.  Then, because her eyes were filling, she stroked the girl’s arm gently, and said: