unexpectedness. We all saw that you were very unhappy
when you were here before, and we supposed it had gone wrong."

"It had, mother," said Dan. "She refused me at Campobello. But it was a
misunderstanding, and as soon as we met--"

"I knew you had met again, and what you had come home for, and I told
your father so, when he came to say you were here."

"Did you, mother?" he asked, charmed at her having guessed that.

"Yes. She must be a good girl to send you straight home to tell us."

"You knew I wouldn't have thought of that myself," said Dan joyously. "I
wanted to write; I thought that would do just as well. I hated to leave
her, but she made me come. She is the best, and the wisest, and the most
unselfish--O mother, I can't tell you about her! You must see her. You
can't realise her till you see her, mother. You'll like each other,
I'm sure of that. You're just alike." It seemed to Dan that they were
exactly alike.

"Then perhaps we sha'n't," suggested his mother. "Let me see her
picture."

"How did you know I had it? If it hadn't been for her, I shouldn't have
brought any. She put it into my pocket just as I was leaving. She said
you would all want to see what she looked like."

He had taken it out of his pocket, and he held it, smiling fondly upon
it. Alice seemed to smile back at him. He had lost her in the reluctance
of his father and sisters; and now his mother--it was his mother who had
given her to him again. He thought how tenderly he loved his mother.

When he could yield her the photograph, she looked long and silently at
it. "She has a great deal of character, Dan."

"There you've hit it, mother! I'd rather you would have said that than
anything else. But don't you think she's beautiful? She's the gentlest
creature, when you come to know her! I was awfully afraid of her at
first. I thought she was very haughty. But she isn't at all. She's
really very self-depreciatory; she thinks she isn't good enough for me.
You ought to hear her talk, mother, as I have. She's full of the noblest
ideals--of being of some use in the world, of being self-devoted,
and--all that kind of thing. And you can see that she's capable of it.
Her aunt's in a Protestant sisterhood," he said, with a solemnity which
did not seem to communicate itself to his mother, for Mrs. Mavering
smiled. Dan smiled too, and said: "But I can't tell you about Alice,
mother. She's perfect." His heart overflowed with proud delight in her,
a