ney could give
her."

"And she shall not want now," he answered gravely.

Only once he remarked to Mabel afterwards, showing perhaps the trend of
his thoughts: "We appear to be furnishing our house to please your
mother, Mabel; seems a pity I cannot save you the trouble of marrying me
by asking her instead."

Mabel stirred a little uneasily. "In pleasing her you are pleasing me,"
she answered, and with a shrug of his shoulders he turned away from the
subject.

Mrs. Grant had her own rooms papered with white satin paper and very
delicately outlined in gold; she ransacked the Jarvis heirlooms to find
appropriate furniture for such a setting, and succeeded very well. The
bills for her various suggested improvements passed through Mr. Jarvis'
hands, and he commented on them to Mabel with a grim smile.

"She knows how to spend money," he said. "Dick must certainly have found
the responsibility heavy."

"She has never learned how not to spend," Mabel explained; "but you must
not pass what you think unnecessary."

"My dear, it is part of our bargain," he answered; "I shall not shrink
from my share any more than you will."

Mrs. Grant fought very strenuously for a wedding in London, but here for
once Mabel opposed her firmly, and the idea had to be abandoned.

"It means, of course, that most of my dearest friends will not be able
to come, but I suppose I need not expect that to weigh against your
determination," was one of the many arguments she tried, and: "I never
dreamed that a daughter of mine would insist upon this hole-and-corner
way of getting married" another.

"It almost looks as if you were ashamed of the man," she said somewhat
spitefully to Mabel, the day the wedding-dress was tried on. "When your
father and I were married the church was simply packed. I had a lovely
gown"--her thoughts wandered into kindlier channels--"and Harry was very
much in love. I remember his hand shaking as he tried to slip the ring
on to my finger. I suppose you love Mr. Jarvis?"

The abrupt question coming after the vague memories startled Mabel into
sudden rigidness. "I suppose I do," she answered, her white-clad figure
mocked her from the glass. "One does love one's husband, doesn't one?"

"Mabel"--Mrs. Grant's voice sounded righteous indignation--"you do say
such extraordinary things sometimes and about such solemn subjects. But
if you do really love him, then why this desire for secrecy?"

"Dear Mother, being married i