I do not know whether this was quite true or not, but I was glad
Mrs. March said it, from the effect it had upon Mrs. Deering. Tears
of relief came into her eyes, and she said: "Then I can go home in
the morning. I was going to stay on a day or two longer, on Julia's
account, but I didn't feel just right about Mr. Deering, and now I
won't have to."

There followed a flutter of polite offers and refusals,
acknowledgments and disavowals, and an understanding that I would
arrange it all, and that we would come to Mrs. Deering's hotel after
supper and see Miss Gage about the when and the how of her coming to
us."

"Well, Isabel," I said, after it was all over, and Mrs. Deering had
vanished in a mist of happy tears, "I suppose this is what you call
perfectly providential. Do you really believe that Miss Gage didn't
send her back?"

"I know she didn't. But I know that she HAD to do it just the same
as if Miss Gage had driven her at the point of the bayonet."

I laughed at this tragical image. "Can she be such a terror?"

"She is an ideal. And Mrs. Deering is as afraid as death of her.
Of course she has to live up to her. It's probably been the
struggle of her life, and I can quite imagine her letting her
husband die before she would take Miss Gage back, unless she went
back satisfied."