But this or that, Martha Hatton spent more than two hours with the Harlow ladies, and she left them full of hope and enthusiasm.  And oh, how good, how charming, how strengthening is a new hope in life!  The two ladies were ten or twelve degrees higher in moral atmosphere when Mrs. Hatton left them than they had been before her call.  And she went away laughing and saying pleasant things and the last flirt of her white kerchief as her victoria turned up the hill was like the flutter of some glad bird’s wing.

In four days there was a letter of great interest and kindness from Lord Harlow.  He said that he was well acquainted with Mr. John Hatton from many favorable sources and that the marriage arranged between him and his niece Jane Harlow was satisfactory in all respects.  Further she was informed that Lady Harlow requested her company during the present season in London.  It would, she said, be her duty and her pleasure to assist in getting ready her niece’s wedding outfit, but she left her to fix the day on which she would come to London.

This letter was a little thunderbolt in the Harlow villa, and Jane said she could not go away until her mother was settled at Harlow House.  John was much troubled at this early break in his love dream, but Mrs. Harlow would not listen to any refusal of Lord and Lady Harlow’s invitation.  She said Jane had never seen anything of life, and it was only right she should do so before settling down at Hatton.  Besides, her uncle and aunt’s gifts would be very necessary for her wedding outfit.  In the privacy of her own thoughts—­yes, and several times to her daughter—­she sighed deeply over this late kindness of Lord and Lady Harlow.  She wished that Jane had been asked before she was engaged; nobody knew in that case what good fortune might have come.  It was such a pity!

Mrs. Harlow’s removal was not completed until Christmas was so close at hand that it was thought best to make it the time for their return home.  It was really John and Mrs. Hatton who managed the whole business of the removal, and to their efforts the complete comfort—­and even beauty—­of the old residence was due.  But the days spent in this work were days full of the sweet intimacies of love.  John could never forget one hour of them, and it added to their charm to see and hear Martha Hatton everywhere, her hands making beauty and comfort, her voice sounding like a cheerful song in all the odd corners and queer places of the house.

Upon the whole it was a wonderful Christmas, but when it was over the realities of life were to face.  Jane was going to London and John wondered how he was to bear the days without her.  In the spring he would begin to build the house for himself he had long contemplated building.  The plan of it had been fully explained to Jane, and had been approved by her, and John was resolved to break ground for the foundation as soon as it was possible to do so.  And he calculated somewhat on the diversion he would find in building a home for the woman he so dearly loved.