eception of Miss Filbert by
the Simpsons would involve any strain upon the affection his friends
bore him, the event must have relieved him in no small degree. He was
soon made aware of its happy character and constantly kept assured.
Indeed, it seemed that whenever Mrs. Simpson had nothing else to do she
laid her pen to the task of telling him once again how cherished a
satisfaction they found in Laura and how reluctant they would be to lose
it. She wrote in that strain of facile sympathy which seems part of an
Englishwoman's education, and often begged him to believe that the more
she knew of their sweet and heavenly-minded guest the more keenly she
realised how dreary for him must have been the pang of parting and how
arid the months of separation. Mrs. Simpson herself was well acquainted
with these trials of the spirit. She and her husband had been divided by
those wretched thousands of miles of ocean for three years, one week,
and five days, all told, during their married life; she knew what it
meant. But if Duff could only see how well and blooming his beloved one
was--she had gained twelve pounds already--Mrs. Simpson was sure the
time of waiting would pass less heavily. For herself, it was cruel, but
she smiled upon the deferred reunion of hearts: she would keep Laura
till the very last day, and hoped to establish a permanent claim on her.
She was just the daughter Mrs. Simpson would have liked, so unspotted,
so pure, so wrapped in high ideals, and then the page would reflect
something of the adoring awe in which Mrs. Simpson would have held such
a daughter. It will be seen that Mrs. Simpson knew how to express
herself, but there was a fine sincerity behind the mask of words; Miss
Filbert had entered very completely into possession.

It had its abnormal side, the way she entered into possession.
Everything about Laura Filbert had its abnormal side, none the less
obvious because it was inward and invisible. Nature, of course, worked
with her--one might say that nature really did it, since in the end she
was practically unconscious, except for the hope that certain souls had
been saved, that anything of the sort had happened. She conquered the
Simpsons and their friends chiefly by the simple impossibility that they
should conquer her, walking immobile among them even while she admired
Mr. Simpson's cauliflowers and approved the quality of Mrs. Simpson's
house linen. It must be confessed that nothing in her surround