“You need the evening to rest in too, dear child, after working steadily all day,” said Gertrude affectionately.  “And I am very glad when there is a piece of work like this that I can do.  I want him to find everything as it used to be, when he comes home.  I think that with care and industry I can manage so that I shall not be obliged to give up this house while he is away.  I am sure it will be a great comfort to him to find that he still has his home.  And besides I feel that it will help him to begin life anew, and bring him back to his old right-minded way of thinking.  Oh, if he would only come home!”

“Mother, mother, that is no reason why you should work beyond your strength.  You have taken care of me all these long years, and now it is fairly my turn to take care of you.  Do not worry about the house, dear; I have made an arrangement with the cattle-dealer.  When you told me that he threatened to take it, I went to him and got him to let me settle with him instead.  He was very glad that I wanted it, for he said that he didn’t see what good it would be to him, and he gave me my time about paying for it.”

“Is that true, Veronica?” said Gertrude, and a happy smile stole over her face.  “You do not know what a load you have taken from my heart!  Oh, you are good and brave!  If I could only see you look happy, how glad I should be!  If I could find out how to make you happy!  I would do anything in the world for you, if I only knew how!”

“There is no use in thinking about it, mother dear.  Happiness is not for me.  It may be for others, but not for me.”  Veronica spoke with strong emotion.  “I have worked and struggled for it ever since I can remember anything, but all in vain.  Cousin Judith told me that work was the way to fortune, and that ‘fortune’ meant whatever one wanted most; and so I worked, always, even when I did not know what it was that I wanted most.  Afterwards when I learned that for me happiness was the best fortune, I worked on, for I wanted to be happy, but I was not.  I always brooded over my work, thinking of all the unpleasant and troublesome things that had happened.  Then Sabina told me how, when she was terribly unhappy about her deformity, she had found relief in books, in reading,” and Veronica went on to tell how Sabina had sent her delightful books and how she had tried to drive away her own sorrow by the new interests which she found in them.  “But you see,” she added with a sigh, “it did not help me; nothing helps me.  When I read, I was still unhappy.  What difference did it make to me, all that was written in the books; it did not make my troubles less.  The old thoughts came right in and left me no peace.  Even while I was reading I could not fix my mind on the book, and when I laid the book down, I had gained nothing, but was as sad and hopeless as ever.  Happiness is not for me, and the little motto upon my rose may be true for others; it is not true for me.  I cannot ‘grasp’ the only ‘fortune’ I care for.”