"How beautiful it all is!" she cried, "and it is all mine—my own! I am going to be happy here—I will be happy here!"
Her black eyes flashed strangely upon her husband walking by her side, and the hand clenched, as if she defied Fate from henceforth.
"I hope so," Paul Wyndham said, gravely. "I hope, with all my heart, you may be happy here."
Laura looked from one to the other in silent wonder. Mr. Wyndham turned to her as they finished the tour of the house.
"I suppose Rosebush Cottage is hardly equal to this, Miss Laura? Have you been there lately?"
"Yes," said Laura. "Val and I—he stops with us now, you know—went through it last week. The rooms are very pretty, and the garden is one wilderness of roses; and Midge reminds me of Eve in Eden, only there is no Adam."
"And Midge does not exactly correspond with our ideas of our fair first mother," laughed Mr. Wyndham. "I must go there to-morrow and see the place. Will you come, Olive?"'
"No, thank you," she said, coldly. "Rosebush Cottage has very little interest for me."
Again Laura stared.
"Why is she so cross?" she thought. "How can she be cross, when he seems so kind? How soon do you expect your mother, Mr. Wyndham?" she said aloud.