had been told, were
standing a group that an artist would have been delighted to sketch.

Lionel had some choice roses in bloom, and after dinner the whole party
had gone out to see them. Lady Helena Earle was seated on the garden
chair whereon Beatrice had once sat listening to the words which had
gladdened her brief life. A number of fair children played around her.

Looking on them with pleased eyes was a gentle, graceful lady. Her
calm, sweet face had a story in it, the wondrous dark eyes had in them
a shadow as of some sorrow not yet lived down. Lady Dora Earle was
happy; the black clouds had passed away. She was her husband's best
friend, his truest counselor; and Ronald had forgotten that she was
ever spoken of as "lowly born." The dignity of her character, acquired
by long years of stern discipline, asserted itself; no one in the whole
country side was more loved or respected than Lady Dora Earle.

Ronald, Lord Earle, was lying on the grass at his wife's feet. He
looked older, and the luxuriant hair was threaded with silver; but
there was peace and calm in his face.

He laughed at Lillian and her husband conversing so anxiously over the
roses.

"They are lovers yet," he said to Dora; and she glanced smilingly at
them.

The words were true. Ten years married, they were lovers yet. There
was gentle forbearance on one side, an earnest wish to do right on the
other. Lillian Dacre never troubled her head about "woman's rights;"
she had no idea of trying to fill her husband's place; if her opinion
on voting was asked, the chances were that she would smile and say,
"Lionel manages all those matters." Yet in her own kingdom she reigned
supreme; her actions were full of wisdom, he words were full of kindly
thought. The quiet, serene beauty of her youth had developed into that
of magnificent womanhood. The fair, spirituelle face was peerless in
her husband's eyes. There was no night or day during which Lionel
Dacre did not thank Heaven for that crown of all great gifts, a good
and gentle wife.

There was a stir among the children; a tall, dark gentleman was seen
crossing the lawn, and Lionel cried: "Here is Gaspar Laurence with his
arms full of toys--those children will be completely spoiled!"

The little ones rushed forward, and Bertrand, in his hurry, fell over a
pretty child with large dark eyes and dark hair. Lord Earle jumped up
and caught her in his arms.

"Bertie, my boy," he said, "always b