changed from the imposing to the rapturous, as Amy's voice was heard calling,—
"Where is she? where's my dear old Jo?"
In trooped the whole family, and every one was hugged and kissed all over again, and, after several vain attempts, the three wanderers were set down to be looked at and exulted over. Mr. Laurence, hale and hearty as ever, was quite as much improved as the others by his foreign tour,—for the crustiness seemed to be nearly gone, and the old-fashioned courtliness had received a polish which made it kindlier than ever. It was good to see him beam at "my children," as he called the young pair; it was better still to see Amy pay him the daughterly duty and affection which completely won his old heart; and, best of all, to watch Laurie revolve about the two as if never tired of enjoying the pretty picture they made.
The minute she put her eyes upon Amy, Meg became conscious that her own dress hadn't a Parisian air,—that young Mrs. Moffat would be entirely eclipsed by young Mrs. Laurence, and that "her ladyship" was altogether a most elegant and graceful woman. Jo thought, as she watched the pair, "How well they look together! I was right, and Laurie has found the beautiful, accomplished girl who will become his home better than clumsy old Jo, and be a pride, not a torment to him." Mrs. March and her husband smiled and nodded at each other with happy faces,—for they saw that their youngest had done well, not only in worldly things, but the better wealth of love, confidence, and happiness.
For Amy's face was full of the soft brightness which betokens a peaceful heart, her voice had a new
