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:

“Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye.”

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.”