When she returned to that room again, they had forgotten her, as they had forgotten all the doubts, fears, jealousies, harsh words that had stood between them, preventing their reunion. They were lovers again, and were happy once more--for the first time, since he had taunted Harriet with pitying _him_, as Mattie had taunted him that very day! Mattie forgave them--asked to be forgiven for intruding on their reverie, and bringing them back to thoughts of others sat down with them, and listened to their stories of what their future was to be--to really be this time!--and how, in their generous hearts, they had built a plan for Mattie's share in it. They saw only Mattie's effort to bring them together, nothing else, in that hour; and they were very grateful, and not selfish in their joy. "To think it has all ended as you wished at last--as you have prophesied it would end!" said Harriet; "and to think that I even mistrusted you at one time, and was cold towards you, who sacrificed so much for me, in the old days." "_In the old days!_" thought Mattie. "It makes a great difference when one is unhappy," said Harriet; "we look at things sceptically, and are mistrustful of all good intentions." "For awhile!" added Mattie. "Ah! for awhile!" repeated Sidney, "for we are three together now in heart, and there is no mystery or misconception in the midst of us. For ever after this--the sunshine!" * * * * * Sidney and Harriet were there when Mr. Gray returned; they spoke of their reconciliation, and Mattie's share in it, and he listened very patiently, betraying but little animation at the recital. He was more anxious to speak of giving up the business, having other views, he said--and still more anxious to see Sidney, the young man whom he had loved like a son, and who had done such irreparable mischief, out of the house. He knew Mattie would have to endure more, if Sidney called that place home ever again; and Sidney, who thought of the natural embarrassments which would attend his further stay there, was ready to return to Red-Hill, and his uncle's home, after he had accompanied Harriet to her father's. They were gone at last, and Mattie and her father were facing each other. Mattie's face was white, and her lip was quivering just a little as they went out together. "Courage, Mattie," he said, "we shall not give way now. We have fought well, and the worst is over." "Yes, the very worst!" "You will not envy them their happiness--two weak addlepated mortals, only fitted for each other. You will keep strong!" "For ever after to-day. But you must not be too critical with me now that he is gone, and I have no longer any occasion to keep firm. Oh! father, I loved him very, very much!" "It is hard to lose him, I know that," said he, as Mattie flung herself into his arms, and wept there. "Harder to think that he never loved me after all!"