That's why I married Martin Weatherstone--not for his old millions--but he really cared--and I was sorry for him.

Now he's dead.

And I'm wearing this--and still mourning for the other one." Isabel held her hand, stroked it softly, laid it against her cheek.
"Oh, I'll feel differently in time, perhaps!" said her visitor.
"Maybe if you took hold of the house--if you ran things yourself,"-- ventured Mrs.Porne.
Mrs.Weatherstone laughed.

"And turn out the old lady?
You don't know her.

Why she managed her son till he ran away from her--and after he got so rich and imported her from Philadelphia to rule over Orchardina in general and his household in particular, she managed that poor little first wife of his into her grave, and that wretched boy--he's the only person that manages her! She's utterly spoiled him--that was his father's constant grief.