"Why should I? Prosperity brings many friends, and then it is one least cares about them." Greta looked pained at the bitterness of tone. "She is your mother," she said, softly; and seeing it was a painful subject she turned to talk of other things. A short time after, Rufus was walking homeward with knitted brows and determined, closed lips. Yet a softened smile came over his face as he entered his own gate, and he muttered under his breath, "My little Greta! I will win her and no other!" CHAPTER V HIS STORY FINISHED IT was not long before Rufus called upon Mrs. Warren, who was a gentle, fragile old lady, and reminded him much of Greta's mother. She assured him he would always be welcome at her house, and he was soon a constant visitor there. "Greta is a capital nurse," Mrs. Warren said to him one day. "She makes me more comfortable than any one else, and I fear I am selfish in keeping her from London gaiety, but I do not think it will be for very long." "You will be better soon," the young man said, cheerfully. But Mrs. Warren shook her head. And Greta hastened to say, "Aunt Catherine, you know I love to be with you, so don't talk of keeping me from gaiety." "How is it," Rufus said one day, as they walked across the moor together, "that duty and right is such a strong principle with you? Do you put it all down to your early training? I don't believe your own wants or wishes are ever consulted. I am longing to hear you say, 'I like, I want, I shall have,' but I listen in vain for the words." "I don't think I ever do want anything different to what I have," Greta replied, laughing. "You see I am so happily circumstanced!" "Is there nothing that you wish for? Are you perfectly content to live your life exactly as it is at present?" demanded Rufus, a little eagerly. "Yes, as it is," was the quiet reply. "I know, of course, that changes will come—they must; but I have given over my life into another's keeping, and He is managing it for me." "You are too good for this world," responded Rufus, gloomily. But Greta's clear laugh reassured him. "Does that speech sound priggish? I do not mean I am beyond all earthly desires. I have one very strong one, and I am hoping it may be granted one day." "May I hear what it is?" Rufus's face was turned toward her expectantly; and for a moment, Greta's soft eyes met his steadily, then she looked away, and her words fell upon his ear with slow emphasis. "It is that you should be reconciled to your mother." There was silence for some minutes between them. At last he said, slowly: "Do you care so much?" "It saddens me," she responded. "Family quarrels seem such a terrible thing, and coldness between a mother and son so unnatural. Why should you refuse to be reconciled when the first overture comes from her?" "One can't forget," he said; "the past is always before me."