"There is no doubt of his affection for you, Helga," said Mrs. Hardy, "and it is a joy to me to see it; but come into my sitting-room, and tell me what you have done about your wedding-dress."
"Here is the money you kindly gave me," replied Helga. "I have thought it over, and I think that John would rather marry me just as I am than that I should appear any different; and my father, I feel, would wish it so." Mrs. Hardy recollected the cloud on the Pastor's open face when her son had referred to giving Helga a wedding-dress. "I have, therefore, not used any of the money, Mrs. Hardy," added Helga; "but I am very grateful for your considering me as if I were your daughter."
"I will always act a mother's part to you, Helga," said Mrs. Hardy; "your freedom from selfishness, as well as honesty of feeling, make me love and respect you. It is not money, or money's worth, that is everything. I have always taught my son that kindliness is the real gold of life."
"When John came here first," said Helga, "he said that, and my father has liked him from that moment."
"But you did not, Helga?" said Mrs. Hardy, as if asking the question, and smiling.
"I did, really," replied Helga; "but I thought it was wrong to think of him, and I treated him in a manner of which I am ashamed. I would give anything to recall what I said to him."
John Hardy came bustling in. "Mother!" he exclaimed, "I really cannot let you take up all Helga's time with discussions."
"What we have discussed, John, is yourself," said his mother, "and I can wish for nothing better for you than Helga's golden truth and love. You can take her for a walk in the woods until lunch, but mind, John, to be back punctually at one."
"Why, that is only an hour, mother," protested John, who was becoming quite unreasonable and impatient.
"And twelve times as long as you would let your mother speak to her daughter that is to be," said Mrs. Hardy.