against him. It was a
great shock at first for me to see him; but let us dismiss it from our
minds now, and do not let us speak of it to anyone but Mr. Arundel.
Certainly not to Mrs. Falconer."

"Very well, dear madam, I will do all you desire me," Susan said, and
clasping little Joy in her arms, she turned away.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XIII.

A LULL IN THE STORM.

There was a lull in the storm as soon as the two Whig candidates were
elected to represent the city of Bristol, and Mr. Hart-Davis withdrew
quietly from the contest. The undercurrent, it is true, was still
muttering and murmuring of evil times to come, and all thinking men who
looked below the surface knew that it would but need a spark to kindle a
great fire in Bristol, and that much wisdom, firmness, and decision,
would be needed amongst the rulers.

Joyce Arundel, in her happy home life, soon lost the sense of
insecurity, which after that memorable drive from Fair Acres, had at
first haunted her.

Falcon's lessons, and the interest she felt in his rapid advancement,
engrossed her every morning when her household duties were over; and
then she would pace up and down the garden overlooking the city, with
her baby in her arms, while Lota and Lettice played on the wide expanse
of even, if rather smoke-dried, turf, which sloped down from the terrace
walk at the back of the house, and tell herself a hundred times that no
wife or mother in England was happier than she was.

The early married life of a mother whose chief interests centre in her
own home, and who knows no craving for anything that lies beyond, is
happy indeed. As years pass and her children vanish, and the sweetness
of entire dependence on her ceases of necessity with infancy and
childhood, the mother, weary with the battle of life, encompassed with
difficulties, and overburdened with requirements which the failing
strength of advancing years makes it hard to fulfil, can turn back to
that fair oasis in her pilgrimage, when the children were with her day
and night, when her hand had power to soothe a childish trouble, and her
voice charm away a little pain or disappointment, or add, by her
sympathy in joys as well as in sorrows, zest to all those simple
pleasures in which children delight.

Sometimes, even to the best mothers, I know, there comes a sudden, sharp
awakening. The son of much love and many prayers goes far astray; the
daughter, her pride and joy in her early childho