Other matters also prospered.  Alfred Lancaster had obtained a position in the Mission, and seemed mysteriously inclined to hold it, and to conquer his besetting weakness.  And Georgie’s affair was at a peaceful standstill.  Georgie had her old place in the house, was changed in nothing tangible, and, if she cried a good deal, and went about less than before, she was not actively unhappy.  Dr. O’Connor came once a week to see her, an uncomfortable event, during which Georgie’s mother was with difficulty restrained from going up to the parlor to tell Joe what she thought of a man who put his mother before his wife.  Virginia was bravely enduring the horrors of approaching darkness.  Susan reproached herself for her old impatience with Jinny’s saintliness; there was no question of her cousin’s courage and faith during this test.  Mary Lou was agitatedly preparing for a visit to the stricken Eastmans, in Nevada, deciding one day that Ma could, and the next that Ma couldn’t, spare her for the trip.

Susan walked in a golden cloud.  No need to hunt through Peter’s letters, to weigh his words,—­she had the man himself now unequivocally in the attitude of lover.

Or if, in all honesty, she knew him to be a little less than that, at least he was placing himself in that light, before their little world.  In that world theatre-trips, candy and flowers have their definite significance, the mere frequency with which they were seen together committed him, surely, to something!  They paid dinner-calls together, they went together to week-end visits to Emily Saunders, at least two evenings out of every week were spent together.  At any moment he might turn to her with the little, little phrase that would settle this uncertainty once and for all!  Indeed it occurred to Susan sometimes that he might think it already settled, without words.  At least once a day she flushed, half-delighted, half-distressed,—­under teasing questions on the subject from the office force, or from the boarders at home; all her world, apparently, knew.

One day, in her bureau drawer, she found the little card that had accompanied his first Christmas gift, nearly two years before.  Why did a keen pain stir her heart, as she stood idly twisting it in her fingers?  Had not the promise of that happy day been a thousand times fulfilled?

But the bright, enchanting hope that card had brought had been so sickeningly deferred!  Two years!—­she was twenty-three now.

Mrs. Lancaster, opening the bedroom door a few minutes later, found Susan in tears, kneeling by the bed.

“Why, lovey! lovey!” Her aunt patted the bowed head.  “What is it, dear?”

“Nothing!” gulped Susan, sitting back on her heels, and drying her eyes.

“Not a quarrel with Peter?”

“Oh, auntie, no!”

“Well,” her aunt sighed comfortably, “of course it’s an emotional time, dear!  Leaving the home nest—­” Mrs. Lancaster eyed her keenly, but Susan did not speak.  “Remember, Auntie is to know the first of all!” she said playfully.  Adding, after a moment’s somber thought, “If Georgie had told Mama, things would be very different now!”