where I shall have green grass and trees," she
said to the cabby. "No, it must not be Hyde Park, somewhere farther
off."

"There's the Regent's," replied the man. "I'll drive yer there and back
wid pleasure, my lady."

"I will go to Regent's Park," said Charlotte. She made up her mind, as
she was swiftly bowled along, that she would walk back. She was just in
that condition of suppressed excitement, when a walk would be the most
delightful safety-valve in the world.

In half an hour she found herself in Regent's Park and, having dismissed
her cab, wandered about amongst the trees. The whole place was flooded
with sunshine. There were no flowers visible; the season had been too
bad, and the year was yet too young; but for all that, nature seemed to
be awake and listening.

Charlotte walked about until she felt tired, then she sat down on one of
the many seats to rest until it was time to return home. Children were
running about everywhere. Charlotte loved children. Many an afternoon
had she gone into Kensington Gardens for the mere and sole purpose of
watching them. Here were children, too, as many as there, but of a
different class. Not quite so aristocratic, not quite so exclusively
belonging to the world of rank and fashion. The children in Regent's
Park were certainly quite as well dressed; but there was just some
little indescribable thing missing in them, which the little creatures,
whom Charlotte Harman was most accustomed to notice, possessed.

She was commenting on this, in that vague and slight way one does when
all their deepest thoughts are elsewhere, when a man came near and
shared her seat. He was a tall man, very slight, very thin. Charlotte,
just glancing at him took in this much also, that he was a clergyman. He
sat down to rest, evidently doing so from great fatigue. Selfish in her
happiness, Charlotte presently returned to her golden dreams. The
children came on fast, group after group; some pale and thin, some rosy
and healthy; a few scantily clothed, a few overladen with finery. They
laughed and scampered past her. For, be the circumstances what they
might, all the little hearts seemed full of mirth and sweet content. At
last a very small nurse appeared, wheeling a perambulator, while two
children ran by her side. These children were dressed neatly, but with
no attempt at fashion. The baby in the shabby perambulator was very
beautiful. The little group were walking past rather more slowly than