y,
Miss Prudence seemed old to eighteen-years-old Marjorie. Not as old as
her mother; but nearly forty-five was very old. When she was forty-five,
she thought, her life would be almost ended; and here was Miss Prudence
always _beginning again_.

Answers to her letters arrived duly. They were not long; but they were
conventionally sympathetic.

One daughter wrote: "Morris took you away from us to place you with
friends whom he thought would take good care of you; if you are satisfied
to stay with them, I think you will be better off than with me. Business
is dull, and Peter thinks he has enough on his hands."

The other wrote: "I am glad you are among such kind friends. If Miss
Pomeroy thinks she owes you anything, now is her time to repay it. But
she could pay your board with me as well as with strangers, and you could
help me with the children. I am glad you can be submissive, and that you
are in a pleasanter frame of mind. Henry sends love, and says you never
shall want a home while he has a roof over his own head."

The mother sighed over both letters. They both left so much unsaid. They
were wrapped up in their husbands and children.

"I hope their children will love them when they are old," was the only
remark she made about the letters.

"I am your child, too," said Marjorie. "Won't you take me instead--no,
not instead of Morris, but _with_ him?"

In April Will came home. He spent a night in Maple Street, and almost
satisfied the mother's hungry heart with the comfort he gave her.
Marjorie listened with tears. She went away by herself to open the tiny
box that Will placed in her hand. Kissing the ring with loving and
reverent lips, she slipped it on the finger that Morris would have
chosen, the finger on which Linnet wore her wedding ring. "_Semper
fidelis._" She could see the words now as he used to write them on the
slate. If he might only know that she cared for the ring! If he might
only know that she was waiting for him to come back to bring it to her.
If he might only know--But he had God now; he was in the presence of
Jesus Christ. There was no marrying or giving in marriage in the
presence of Christ in Heaven. Giving in marriage and marrying had been in
his presence on the earth; but where fullness of joy was, there was
something better. Marriage belonged to the earth. She belonged to the
earth; but he belonged to Heaven. The ring did not signify that she was
married to him--I think it might have m