Maris Mayberry is about to be married to wealthy Tilford Thorpe, and then sail away on their honeymoon and live happily ever after; or so she thought. But a few weeks before the wedding her precious mother collapses and is dangerously ill. Maris must put thoughts of the wedding aside and help her mother and the family deal with this crisis. This is when she begins to see her fiancee for what he truly is; selfish, arrogant and very demanding. He feels the wedding plans must continue on regardless if her mother dies or not. Talk about a rude and arrogant young man, this guy was it! A very thoughtful young man, their neighbor from long ago, appears on the scene and he is like a breath of fresh air in his willingness to help in any way he can. But Tilford is not used to not getting his way, so a dangerous plot thickens that puts Maris in harm's way. But as in all of Grace Livingston Hill's books, good, and God, will prevail over the evil in the end. ( )

Grace Livingston Hill's books are for reading when you're stressed and want something light and easy to read, with no great surprises, nothing you have to think too much about.

GLH books are formulaic but it's a sweet formula. Boy meets girl, falls in love, then they learn that one is a Christian and one isn't, and oh, no, what shall we do? Lots of reliquishment, angst, prayer, and trust. Often there's a rich boyfriend who serves as the villain. There are also plenty of sweet little homemaking touches, loving family relationships, thrilling hand touches and chaste kisses.

In this one Maris is the eldest daughter of the house, one of six or seven children. She is engaged to marry a rich young snob from the upper crust. GLH is at some pains to assure us that Maris' family pedigree is every bit as good as the rich young snob's, they just aren't wealthy. This is an subtle but very present theme in all her books, much like the Gene Stratton Porter books of the same era.

On the day before the invitations are to go out, Maris' mother collapses and lingers unconscious on death's door for most of the book. Maris' hoity toity young snob is irritated at the mother for putting such a crimp in his wedding plans. The boy next door returns home in time to help out- he takes on the youngest brothers so the invalid can have the quiet she needs, he helps out with the father's business, he muffles the doorbell, reminds Maris of the gospel she once believed, and in general makes himself indispensable.

The family is in shortened financial straits largely due to the upcoming wedding. In fact, Maris' mother is so sick because she's worked herself to death handsewing Maris' wedding dress, which the hoity toity fiance and his mother are offended by. Maris stays home to nurse her mother back to health, to care for a child who came down with the measles (or is it scarlet fever?), and to keep an eye on a young teen sister who is leaning in a wayward direction.

She finally sees the light and breaks things off with the fiance, who responds in the time honored fashion of villains everywhere by kidnapping her and holding her in durance vile in the shiproom on the ship they were to take their honeymoon trip on. Maris, of course, escapes, running into Our Hero the boy next door who is on his way to rescue her, and they both admit their love for one another and go on to get married, the mother fully recovered, the father's business put on sound footing, the wayward sister teary eyed and penitent, the little brothers worshipful and adoring of their new older brother, the big brother newly mature and helping out his father in business, the villainous boyfriend drinking himself to destruction in European cities.

I mock, just a little, but the family relationships of the main characters of the piece really are sweet and precious, the self sacrifice a bit sticky sweet but always admirable, and the cooking always delightfully old fashioned and frugal. These are also useful as windows on another time- I enjoy seeing what Christians of GLH's day understood to be respectable, Christian behavior and what they didn't.