dearer or more imperious duty to keep me from them--are not
these considerations enough to render a single life indeed one of
happiness, St. Eval? Even from this calm, unruffled stream of life can I
not gather flowers?"

"You would gather them wherever you were placed, my dear and
noble-minded Ellen," said the Earl, with a warmth that caused her eye to
glisten. "You are right: with a disposition such as yours, I have no
need to regret you have so steadfastly refused every offer of marriage.
My girls shall come to you in that age when they think matrimony is the
only chance of happiness, and you shall teach them felicity dwells not
so much in outward circumstances as in the temper of the mind. Perhaps,
after all, Ellen, you are happier as it is. You might not find such a
husband as I would wish you, and I should be sorry to see your maternal
cares rewarded as were poor Mrs. Greville's."

"I rather think, in the blessedness of the present the past is entirely
forgotten," observed Ellen, thoughtfully. "There are cares and sorrows
attendant on the happiest lot; but if a mother does her duty, in my
opinion she seldom fails to obtain her recompense, however long
deferred."

"You are right, my Ellen," said Mrs. Hamilton, who had been listening to
the conversation some little time unobserved. "There are many sorrows
and many cares inseparable from maternal love, but they are forgotten,
or only remembered to enhance the sweetness of the recompense that ever
follows. Do you not think, to see my children, as I do now around me,
walking in that path which alone can lead to eternal life, and leading
their offspring with them, bringing up so tenderly, so fondly their
children as heirs of immortality, and yet lavishing on me, as on their
father, the love and duty of former years--is not this a precious
recompense for all which for them I may have done or borne? Even as I
watched the departing moments of my Herbert, as I marked the triumphant
and joyful flight of his pure spirit to his heavenly home,--even then
was I not rewarded? I saw the fruit of those lessons I had been
permitted through grace to inculcate; his last breath blessed me, and
was not that enough? Oh, my beloved children, let no difficulties deter
you, no temptation, no selfish suffering prevent your training up the
lovely infants now gambolling around you, in the way that they should
go;--solemn is the charge, awful the responsibility, but sweeter far
than words ca