“Yes.  I used sometimes to wonder why Lewis didn’t fall in love with Jean.  Of course he was too old for her, but it would have been quite a feasible match.  Now I know that he cared for you all the time.  Oh, I’m not surprised that he looked at no one else.  But that you should have waited....  There must have been so many suitors....”

“A few.  But some people are born faithful.  Anyway, I’m so glad that when I thought he cared for Jean it made no difference in my feelings to her.  I should have felt so humiliated if I had been petty enough to hate her for what she couldn’t help.  My brother Biddy wants to marry Jean, and I’ve great hopes that it may work out all right.”

Mrs. Hope sat forward in her chair.

“I had my suspicions.  Jean has changed lately; nothing to take hold of, but I have felt a difference.  It wasn’t the money—­that’s an external thing—­the change was in Jean herself, a certain reticence where there had been utter frankness; a laugh more frequent, but not quite so gay and light-hearted.  Has he spoken to her?”

“Yes, but Jean wouldn’t hear of it.”

“Dear me!  I could have sworn she cared.”

“I think she does, but Jean is proud.  What a silly thing pride is!  However, Biddy is very tenacious, and he isn’t at all down-hearted about his rebuff.  He’s quite sure that Jean and he were meant for each other, and he has great hopes of convincing Jean.  I’ve never mentioned the subject to her, she is so tremendously reticent and shy about such things.  I talk about Biddy in a casual way, but if I hadn’t known from Biddy I would have learned from Jean’s averted eyes that something had happened.  The child gives herself away every time.”

“This, I suppose, happened before the fortune came.  What effect will the money have, I wonder?”

“I wonder too,” said Pamela.  “Now that Jean feels she has something to give it may make a difference.  I wish she would speak to me about it, but I can’t force her confidence.”

“No,” said Mrs. Hope.  “You can’t do that.  As you say, Jean is very reticent.  I think I’m rather hurt that she hasn’t confided in me.  She is almost like my own....  She was a little child when the news came that Sandy, my youngest boy, was gone....  I’m reticent too, and I couldn’t mention his name, or speak about my sorrow, and Jean seemed to understand.  She used to garden beside me, and chatter about her baby affairs, and ask me questions, and I sometimes thought she saved my reason....”

Pamela sat silent.  It was well known that no one dared mention her sons’ names to Mrs. Hope.  Figuratively she removed her shoes from off her feet, for she felt that it was holy ground.

Mrs. Hope went on.  “I dare say you have heard about—­my boys.  They all died within three years, and Augusta and I were left alone.  Generally I get along, but to-day—­perhaps because it is the first spring day, and they were so young and full of promise—­it seems as if I must speak about them.  Do you mind?”