Perhaps Sara Lee would have agreed in the end.  There seemed to be nothing else to do, though by the end of the first week she was no longer in any doubt as to what her feeling for Harvey really was.  It was kindness, affection; but it was not love.  She would marry him because she had promised to, and because their small world expected her to do so; and because she could not shame him again.

For to her surprise she found that that was what he had felt—­a strange, self-conscious shame, like that of a man who has been jilted.  She felt that by coming back to him she had forfeited the right to break the engagement.

So every hour of every day seemed to make the thing more inevitable.  Belle was embroidering towels for her in her scant leisure.  Even Anna, with a second child coming, sent in her contribution to the bride’s linen chest.  By almost desperately insisting on a visit to Aunt Harriet she got a reprieve of a month.  And Harvey was inclined to be jealous even of that.

Sometimes, but mostly at night when she was alone, a hot wave of resentment overwhelmed her.  Why should she be forced into the thing?  Was there any prospect of happiness after marriage when there was so little before?

For she realized now that even Harvey was not happy.  He had at last definitely refused to hear the story of the little house.

“I’d rather just forget it, honey!” he said.

But inconsistently he knew she did not forget it, and it angered him.  True to his insistence on ignoring those months of her absence, she made no attempt to tell him.  Now and then, however, closed in the library together, they would fail of things to talk about, and Sara Lee’s knitting needles would be the only sound in the room.  At those times he would sit back in his chair and watch the far-away look in her eyes, and it maddened him.

From her busy life Belle studied them both, with an understanding she did not reveal.  And one morning when the mail came she saw Sara Lee’s face as she turned away, finding there was no letter for her, and made an excuse to follow her to her room.

The girl was standing by the window looking out.  The children were playing below, and the maple trees were silent.  Belle joined her there and slipped an arm round her.

“Why are you doing it, Sara Lee?” she asked.

“Doing what?”

“Marrying Harvey.”

Sara Lee looked at her with startled eyes.

“I’m engaged to him, Belle.  I’ve promised.”

“Exactly,” said Belle dryly.  “But that’s hardly a good reason, is it?  It takes more than a promise.”  She stared down at the flock of children in the yard below.  “Harvey’s a man,” she said.  “He doesn’t understand, but I do.  You’ve got to care a whole lot, Sara Lee, if you’re going to go through with it.  It takes a lot of love, when it comes to having children and all that.”

“He’s so good, Belle.  How can I hurt him?”