I've lived with him thirty years, I've borne him children, and I'm still sorry for all the other women--even for you, Gabriella." "He seems so kind," said Gabriella; "I felt that about him, and it's the best thing, after all, isn't it ?" It was the best thing, and yet she knew that George was not kind--that he was not even good-tempered.
"Yes, it's the best thing, after all, in marriage," answered the older woman; "it's the thing that wears." "I have always wanted the best of life," rejoined Gabriella thoughtfully; and she went on gravely after a moment: "I couldn't love George any more than I do, but I wish that in some ways he would grow like his father." "The boy has a very sweet nature," replied George's mother, "and I hope marriage will steady him." It was a warning, Gabriella knew, and she wondered afterwards if her silent acquiescence in Mrs.Fowler's judgment had not been furtive disloyalty to George.
"A great deal will depend on you, dear, for he is very much in love," resumed Mrs.Fowler when Gabriella did not speak, and she repeated very solemnly, "I hope marriage will steady him." In her heart Gabriella was hoping so, too, but all she said was, "I promise you that I will do all I can." She had given her word, and, looking into her eyes, Mrs.Fowler understood that her daughter-in-law was not one to give her word lightly.

Gabriella would keep her promise.
She would do her best, whatever happened.
The older woman, with her life's history behind her, watched the girl for a minute in silence.

There was so much that she longed to say, so much that could never be spoken even between women.

She herself was an optimist, but her optimism had been wrung from the bitter core of experience.

Her faith was firm, though it held few illusions, for, if she was an optimist, she was also a realist.