ape in so many words.
She was the more remorseful as the disappointment was not mutual. She
had hoped so much, given so much for her son, had suffered so bitter a
disappointment from his lack of response, that she had no wish for
another child. But she was sorry for Bernard.

She stretched out her hand and put it through his arm, leaning against
him with unusual intimacy.

"Don't shout at me, Bernard; don't be cross! Why should you? I daresay
it's all quite true, but children don't always bring happiness. Think
of the parents you know who have large families! They are always in
trouble. Some of the brood are always miserable, or ill, or in
difficulties, or poor, or unruly, or all at once, and the poor parents
have to rack their brains to think how they can help, and suffer every
pang with them; _worse_ pangs, because the children are young, and can
shake things off, and the parents sit by the fire and think. I've seen
it with my own parents. They never had a chance of being happy and
restful. One or other of us was always tearing their heart-strings."

"People don't have children for the sake of happiness, my good girl,"
the Squire said bluntly. "A certain amount of happiness goes to it, no
doubt, but that's not the principal consideration. It's a duty they owe
to the race, and they must be prepared to take the rough with the
smooth. You can't expect to rear any young thing without trouble."

"But they don't _care_ in return, Bernard! They care so little. That's
the heart-break. Parents are everlastingly giving out, and getting so
little in return. It's an empty feeling. Children give so little, in
comparison with the love that is lavished on them."

"Who expects them to care?" demanded the Squire. "It's nature that the
old should look after the young; it's nature that the young should fly
away. It's no use bucking against nature! You are thinking of your own
satisfaction, and the amount of happiness _you_ are going to get out of
the business. That's where you're wrong. There's too much talk of
happiness these days. I don't believe in it. It makes people soft and
finicking. If they thought less about their feelings, and more about
their work, it would be a damned sight better for all concerned. We
were not put into this world to be happy."

"Weren't we, Bernard, weren't we?" Cassandra asked piteously. Five
minutes ago it had seemed that happiness was the be-all and end-all of
life, tha