Tom’s mother knew of the comfort that words bring with them, so she let him talk on, without saying anything herself. When he had ended, she spoke gentle and loving words to him, though she could give him no hope. “I wish that I’d not seen Patty,” said Tom; “I wish that I’d come straight home as Will told me to do. Why didn’t he tell me of all this?” “I suppose that he couldn’t bring himself to do it.” “I wish I’d not seen her,” said Tom, again. “It’s too late for wishing now,” said his mother. Nothing more was said between them, and both knew that the marriage must be gone through with now. The time had been fixed for the wedding. It was for eleven o’clock the next morning. The friends had all been asked, the new house was furnished, the linen provided, and even Patty’s dresses made. It could not be stopped without great scandal to all concerned. If only he had not come back again. Then Patty would have been married quietly to a man whom she could respect, if not love, and her life would not have been without contentment. But now that she had seen him, what contentment could she have, loving him and marrying another man? At last they quitted the room together; but the first bitterness had passed and gone. The first one whom he met was Susan. She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him, the tears brimming in her eyes as she did so. “Dear, dear Tom,” said she, and Tom knew from the tone of her voice that she was thinking of Patty, though her name had not been spoken betwixt them. “Don’t, Susan,” said he, huskily, for his heart was still very sore. Then his father came and shook hands with him, as did William also, and presently John came over from the barnyard and joined them. This was all of the family that were at home, for Henry was in a store in Lancaster and Mary was visiting friends in Chester. Friends, of the old times especially, were a restrained, self-repressed people, giving but little freedom to the flow of natural feeling. Tom’s father and his brothers had been moved—deeply moved; but now, when they came forward to shake him by the hand, excepting for the closeness of the grip that they gave him and the firmness of the pressure of palm to palm, no one would have thought that he had returned to them as the dead might return from the grave. It was, so far as any outward forms were concerned, as though he had but just come home after a two weeks’ absence.