“It’s all right, Dan,” she said gently. “William just called your mother. It’s made up.”
Daniel drew a deep breath, his eyes on her face. He thought he had never seen her look so beautiful.
“It’s your doing, Virginia,” he said softly.
She shook her head, coming out and standing beside him in the sunshine.
“It’s God’s doing, Dan,” she replied gravely.
He said nothing. He was still gazing at her. She looked so beautiful and so happy that he wondered if, after all, she cared for William. Then he reflected that angels must always look beautiful in acts of love and renunciation.
She turned and smiled at him again.
“Let’s walk down to the end of the garden,” she said gently. “It’s cool there under the old mulberry.”
They walked slowly, not because of his lameness, for he was limping very little to-day, but because the walk through the old garden-paths was sweet.
“My roses are still blooming,” remarked Virginia. “I’m going to set out some more of these late ones this autumn. How sweet the air is to-day!”