"God takes men's hearty desires and will instead of the deed where they
have not the power to fulfill it; but he never took the bare deed instead
of the will."--_Richard Baxter_.
Prue opened the door, and sprang into Marjorie's arms in her old,
affectionate way; and Marjorie almost forgot that she was not in Maple
Street, when she was led into the front parlor; there was as much of the
Maple Street parlor in it as could be well arranged. Hollis was there on
the hearth rug, waiting modestly in the background for his greeting;
he had not been a part of Maple Street. The greeting he waited for was
tardy in coming, and was shy and constrained, and it seemed impossible to
have a word with her alone all the evening: she was at the piano, or
chatting in the kitchen with old Deborah, or laughing with Prue, or
asking questions of Linnet, and when, at last, Mr. Holmes took her
upstairs to show her his study, he said good night abruptly and went
away.
Marjorie chided herself for her naughty pride and passed another
sleepless night; in the morning she looked so ill that the plans for the
day were postponed, and she was taken into Mrs. Holmes own chamber to be
petted and nursed to sleep. She awoke in the dusk to find Aunt Prue's
dear face beside her.
"Aunt Prue," she said, stretching up her hands to encircle her neck, "I
don't know what to do."
"I do. Tell me."
"Perhaps I oughtn't to. It's mother's secret."
"Suppose I know all about it."
"You can't! How can you?"
"Lie still," pushing her back gently among the pillows, "and let me tell
you.
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