mother saw it only as
a marked and offensive detail of the present. Lucy did nothing to help
the situation. In spite of the attention paid her, she knew that she was
unwelcome. "Your people do not like me, Harry," she complained; and
Harry said some unkind things concerning his people in reply.

So the parting was cool and constrained, and Harry went off with his
bride and his five thousand pounds, caring little at that time for any
other consideration.

"He will come to himself soon, mother," said John. "It isn't worth while
to fret about him."

"I never waste anything, John, least of all love and tears. I can learn
to do without, as well as other mothers."

But it was a hard trial, and her tired eyes and weary manner showed it.
John was not able to make any excuse she would listen to about Harry's
marriage. Its hurried and almost clandestine character deeply offended
her; and the young wife during her visit had foolishly made a point of
exhibiting her power over her husband, while both of them seemed
possessed by that egotistical spirit which insists on their whole world
seeing how vastly superior their love is to any other love that ever had
been. Undoubtedly the young couple were offensive to everyone, and Mrs.
Hatton said they had proved to her perfect satisfaction the propriety
and even the necessity for the retirement of newly married people to
some secluded spot for their honeymoon.

Soon after their departure Jane Harlow returned. She came home attended
by the rumor of her triumphs and enriched by a splendid wardrobe and
many fine pieces of jewelry. She told modestly enough the story of the
life she had been leading, and Mrs. Hatton was intensely interested in
it.

"Jane Harlow is a woman of a thousand parts, and you have chosen a wife
to bring you friendship and honor," she said to John. "Dear knows one
cannot weary in her company. She has an opinion on every subject."

"She has been in highly cultivated society and it has improved her a
great deal, mother. Perhaps if Lucy had had the same opportunity she
would have been equally benefited."

"I beg to remind you, John, of what you said about training trees--'the
nature of the tree has to be taken into account'; no amount of training
could make an oak out of a willow."

"True, mother. Yet there are people who would prefer the willow to the
oak."

"And you couldn't help such people, now could you? You might be sorry
for them. But there--what could y