m, looking long into each; first Aunt Wess's bedroom, then
Page's, then the "front sitting-room," then, lastly, her own room. It
was still in the disorder caused by that eventful morning; many of the
ornaments--her own cherished knick-knacks--were gone, packed and
shipped to her new home the day before. Her writing-desk and bureau
were bare. On the backs of chairs, and across the footboard of the bed,
were the odds and ends of dress she was never to wear again.

For a long time Laura stood looking silently at the empty room. Here
she had lived the happiest period of her life; not an object there,
however small, that was not hallowed by association. Now she was
leaving it forever. Now the new life, the Untried, was to begin.
Forever the old days, the old life were gone. Girlhood was gone; the
Laura Dearborn that only last night had pressed the pillows of that
bed, where was she now? Where was the little black-haired girl of
Barrington?

And what was this new life to which she was going forth, under these
leaden skies, under this warm mist of rain? The tears--at last--were in
her eyes, and the sob in her throat, and she found herself, as she
leaned an arm upon the lintel of the door, whispering:

"Good-by. Good-by. Good-by."

Then suddenly Laura, reckless of her wedding finery, forgetful of
trivialities, crossed the room and knelt down at the side of the bed.
Her head in her folded arms, she prayed--prayed in the little unstudied
words of her childhood, prayed that God would take care of her and make
her a good girl; prayed that she might be happy; prayed to God to help
her in the new life, and that she should be a good and loyal wife.

And then as she knelt there, all at once she felt an arm, strong, heavy
even, laid upon her. She raised her head and looked--for the first
time--direct into her husband's eyes.

"I knew--" began Jadwin. "I thought--Dear, I understand, I understand."

He said no more than that. But suddenly Laura knew that he, Jadwin, her
husband, did "understand," and she discovered, too, in that moment just
what it meant to be completely, thoroughly understood--understood
without chance of misapprehension, without shadow of doubt; understood
to her heart's heart. And with the knowledge a new feeling was born
within her. No woman, not her dearest friend; not even Page had ever
seemed so close to her as did her husband now. How could she be unhappy
henceforward? The future was already brightening.