This tall, large and rather too portly woman had been in her youth a slender and elegant girl; a graceful creature though her calm and expressionless features had never been strikingly beautiful.  Age had altered them but little; her face was now that of a good-looking, plump, easy-going matron, which had lost its freshness through long and devoted attendance on the sick man.  Her birth and position gave her confidence and self-reliance, but there was nothing gracious or captivating in her individuality.  The joys and woes of others were not hers; still she could be moved and stirred by them, even to self-denial, and was very capable of feeling quite a passionate interest for others; only, those others must be her own immediate belongings and no one else.  Thus a more devoted and anxious wife, or a more loving mother would have been hard to find; but, if we compare her faculty for loving with a star, its rays were too short to reach further than to those nearest to her, and these regarded it as an exceptional state of grace to be included within the narrow circle of those beloved by her somewhat grudging soul.

She knocked at Orion’s sitting-room, and he hailed her late visit with surprise and pleasure.  She had come to speak of a matter of importance, and had done so promptly, for her son’s and Paula’s conduct just now urged her to lose no time.  Something was going on between these two and her husband’s niece was far outside the narrow limits of her loving kindness.

This, she began by saying, would not allow her to sleep.  She had but one heart’s desire and his father shared it:  Orion must know full well what she meant; she had spoken to him about it only yesterday.  His father had received him with warm affection, had paid his debts unhesitatingly and without a word of reproach, and now it was his part to turn over a new leaf:  to break with his former reckless life and set up a home of his own.  The bride, as he knew, was chosen for him.  “Susannah was here just now,” she said.  “You scapegrace, she confessed that you had quite turned her Katharina’s little head this morning.”

“I am sorry for it,” he interrupted in a tone of annoyance.  “These ways with women have grown upon me as a habit; but I have done with them henceforth.  They are unworthy of me now, and I feel, my dear Mother. . . .”

“That life is beginning in earnest,” Neforis threw in.  “The wish which brings me to you now entirely accords with that.  You know what it is, and I cannot imagine what you can have to say against it.  In short, you must let me settle the matter to-morrow with Dame Susannah.  You are sure of her daughter’s affection, she is the richest heiress in the country, well brought up, and as I said before, she has quite lost her little heart to you.”

“And she had better have kept it!” said Orion with a laugh.

Then his mother waxed wroth and exclaimed:  “I must beg you to reserve your mirth for a more fitting season and for laughable things.  I am very much in earnest when I say:  The girl is a sweet, good little creature and will be a faithful and loving wife to you, under God.  Or have you left your heart in Constantinople?  Has the Senator Justinus’ fair relation.—­But nonsense!  You can hardly suppose that that volatile Greek girl. . . .”