The carriages rattled across the market-place, and drew up before one of the quaint, grey, green-shuttered houses.  The concierge rose lazily from his chair within the shadow of the court, and showed himself at the door.  The ladies alighted, and were ushered into the small plain abode where Madame Bonnemain had so long struggled for existence.  All were charmed with it and with her.  She made them feel at home at once.  Often Gladys looked at her, and felt her heart drawn towards her.  Yes, with that bright, sympathetic little woman, she could be happy at Bourhill.  But somewhat late that night Mrs. Fordyce came into her room and sat down by her bed.

’My dear, are you asleep?  We have come on a fruitless errand; Madame Bonnemain cannot come to you.  She is going to be married almost immediately, so what are we to do now?’

‘It is a great disappointment,’ said Gladys.  ’I like her so much.  Yes, what are we to do now?’

’You must just come to us for another winter, Gladys; there is nothing else for it.’

Gladys lay still a moment, revolving something in her mind.

’Would it be proper for me to have an unmarried lady to live with me, Mrs. Fordyce?’ she asked suddenly.

‘Quite, if she were old enough.’

‘How old?’

‘Middle-aged, at least.’

‘Then I know somebody who will do; it is a beautiful arrangement,’ cried Gladys joyfully.  ’In the little fen village where we lived, my father and I, there is a lady, Miss Peck—­we lived in her house.  She was very kind to us, and yet so poor; yes, I think she would come.’

‘Is she a lady, Gladys?’

’If to be a lady is to have a heart of gold, which never thinks one unselfish thought, she is one, Mrs. Fordyce,’ said Gladys warmly.

’These are the attributes of a lady, of course, Gladys, but there are other things, my dear, which must be considered.  If this Miss Peck is to sit at your table, help you to guide your household, and be your constant companion, she must be a very superior person.’

‘She was well brought up.  I think her father was a surgeon in Boston,’ said Gladys; and these words at once relieved the lawyer’s wife.

’If that is so, she may be the very person for whom we are seeking.  You are sure she is still there?’

‘Yes,’ replied Gladys reluctantly.  ’I wrote to her in the summer.  Mr. Fordyce allowed me to send her some money,—­not in charity, it was the payment of a just debt,—­and when she replied I knew by her letter that she was still very poor.  I have always meant to have her come to me at Bourhill, but it will be delightful if she can come altogether.’

’You have a good heart, Gladys; you will not forget those who have befriended you.’

’I hope not, I pray not; only sometimes I am afraid it is harder for some reasons to be rich than poor.’

These words slightly surprised Mrs. Fordyce, though she did not ask an explanation of them.