She wrote a kind and friendly letter in reply, telling him frankly just how she and her father were situated—that they had lost everything, and were both about to learn from practical experience what it meant to have to work for a living.
“But”—and there was an undercurrent of reserve force and triumph in every line—“even though the future seemed to point to a far humbler sphere in life than they had ever known, she was by no means unhappy in view of the prospect, for she hoped now to learn just what she was best fitted for, and to prove the mettle of which she was made.”
There was no word or even hint of any tenderer sentiment in her letter, and Philip Wentworth heaved a sigh of relief as he read it, while he “thanked his lucky stars” that she had reserved her answer to his rash and impulsive proposal that day when they floated down the sunlit Charles, and thus he had escaped an entanglement that would have been exceedingly awkward for him to have broken away from.
Nevertheless, such is the perversity of human nature, he chafed in secret because he had failed to subjugate the heart he had coveted most of all, and so add another to the many victories of that kind which he flattered himself he had won.
He sent her a note of regret and condolence, and intimated that he should expect to hear from her often, and to be kept posted regarding any change of location, and hoped the time was not far distant when he should see her again.
But it was a long time after that before he heard from her again, and henceforth his letters to Gertrude Athol took on a tenderer tone, although he did not definitely refer to any consummation of their hopes, yet mentioned casually that he was contemplating getting settled in some business as soon as he could find a favorable opening.
Mollie Heatherford, however, realized that her old-time lover had proved recreant, even though he was too cowardly to confess it. But she did not grieve for him; she was far too busy, even if she had been inclined to do so, during those trying days when she was assisting her father in the settlement of his affairs and superintending the packing of their household-furnishings and treasures, which were to be sent to various places to be sold.
Not a murmur escaped her, not a sigh nor a tear, as one after another of the dear and beautiful things were removed from their accustomed places. She was cheerful, sunny, and intensely practical through it all, and chased many a gloomy cloud from her father’s brow by a merry laugh, a sparkling jest, and now and then by a mock reproof because he “didn’t obey orders from his superior any better.”
At last these sad duties were completed, and Mr. Heatherford, having obtained through the influence of a friend a situation in the post-office department at Washington, they removed to that city, where, taking a tiny house in a quiet but respectable locality, Mollie became mistress of the very modest home which their means would allow.
The enterprising girl wanted to put in an immediate application for a position as teacher in the public schools, but her father would not listen to the project, and appeared so sensitive upon the subject that she finally yielded, though reluctantly, and tried to be content with doing all in her power to make home pleasant and attractive for him.