She spent half-an-hour in such reflections, and then Cornelia entered with a smiling face.  She would not permit Arenta to say another word of regret; she stifled all her self-reproaches in an embrace, and she took her back with her to her own home.  And no further repentance embarrassed Arenta.  She put her ready wit, and her clever hands to a score of belated things; and snubbed and contradicted the Van Dien and Sherman girls into a respectful obedience to her earlier friendship, and wider experience.  Everything that she directed, or took charge of, went with an unmistakable vigour to completion; and even Madame Van Heemskirk was delighted with her ability, and grateful for her assistance.

“The poor Arenta!” she said to Mrs. Moran; “very helpful she is to us, and for her brother’s fault she is not to blame.  Wrong it would be to visit it on her.”

And Arenta not only felt this gracious justice for herself, she looked much further forward, for she said to her father, “It is really for Rem’s sake I am so obliging.  By and by people will say ’there is no truth in that letter story.  The Marquise is the friend of Lady Hyde; they are like clasped hands, and that could not be so, if Rem Van Ariens had done such a dreadful thing.  It is all nonsense.’  And if I hear a word about it, I shall know how to smile, and lift my shoulders, and kill suspicion with contempt.  Yes, for Rem’s sake, I have done the best thing.”

So happily the time went on, that it appeared wonderful when Christmas was close at hand.  Every preparation was then complete.  The Manor House was a very picture of splendid comfort and day by day Cornelia’s exquisite wardrobe came nearer to perfection.  It was a very joy to go into the Moran house.  The mother, with a happy light upon her face, went to-and-fro with that habitual sweet serenity, which kept the temperature of expectant pleasure at a degree not too exhausting for continuance.  The doctor was so satisfied with affairs, that he was often heard timing his firm, strong steps to snatches of long forgotten military songs; and Cornelia, knowing her lover was every day coming nearer and nearer, was just as happy as a girl loving and well beloved, ought to be.  Sorrow was all behind her, and a great joy was coming to meet her.  Until mortal love should become immortal, she could hope for no sweeter interlude in life.

Her beauty had increased wonderfully; hope had more than renewed her youth, and confident love had given to her face and form, a splendour of colour and expression, that captivated everybody; though why, or how, they never asked—­she charmed, because she charmed.  She was the love, the honey, the milk of sweetest human nature.