"Oh, as happy as turtle-doves!" said Roland. For lovers can always see something amusing in the devotion of another pair of lovers, serious as is their own. "Waldberg is already looking out for the cottage of the future. He has steadied down, and forsworn speculation forever. Mr. Dunlop left him a legacy, too."
"And what of Harold Pomeroy? Has he found consolation yet?"
"I don't imagine he needed any. I don't know much of him. I met that poor Nelly, the other day, very much overdressed. I don't think she works in the mill, now."
"I wonder if he kept his promise to me," said Nora thoughtfully.
"Oh, some men's promises are poor things!" he replied. "By the way, I haven't told you of Miss Pomeroy's engagement to Mr. Archer. It's just been announced. I asked him if I might congratulate him, and he said, in his usual way, he supposed I might if I liked,—it wouldn't do any harm."
Nora laughed outright. But not then, nor for long after, did Roland know all the reason for her amusement.
"And Wharton's gone for a trip to Europe," he continued. "People say he's gone to look up Miss Harley; he says it's to inquire into the labor question over there. Whether she or Mr. Jeffrey converted him, I don't know; but he has certainly changed his position very much."
"And have you seen Mr. Chillingworth lately?" asked Nora.
"Yes," he replied, "I see him, now and then. His manner is always wonderfully kind, though I'm sure he can't have the pleasantest associations with me."
"Oh," said Nora, "I think you are wrong, there! He told Aunt Margaret that you had been of the greatest use to him, in helping him to realize, once more, truths that seemed to be drifting from his grasp."