od, is apparently cold
and heartless. But as a rule, I think, in the retrospect the cry is
forced from many a mother's sad heart: "If only I had been more to him
in early boyhood; cared for his games, and interested myself in all his
play as well as work, it _might_ have been different"; or, "If I had
dealt more tenderly and patiently with her when she was standing on the
threshold of womanhood, it might have been different!"

Vain regrets, vain laments for some of us; but the young mother, like
Joyce Falconer, has the children and the father of the children still
with her, and may, as Joyce did, sing to herself a sweet, low song of
thanksgiving, which made Lettice stop in her play, and, running up to
her side, say:

"What a pretty song mother is singing to baby!"

And now another voice was heard, rather a sad, querulous voice, which
did not chime in well with the mother's song, or the baby's gentle coo
of gladness, or the laughter of the two little sisters, as Falcon dashed
out upon them from the open door of the hall with a big ball in his
hand, which he threw down the grass with a merry "Halloo!"

Falcon's lessons, which his mother had left him to learn, were over, and
he was free to run and jump to his heart's content.

"Joyce, are you not coming to get ready? Aunt Falconer never likes to be
kept waiting."

"Oh! I beg your pardon, Charlotte; I had forgotten you and I were to
spend the day with mother; I will be ready in a few minutes. I must just
wait till Susan can take baby." Susan appeared at this moment, and Joyce
went quickly into the hall.

Poor Charlotte's visions and dreams had never come to be anything but
dreams. She was older than Joyce, and still had never found the language
of the eyes come to a good honest declaration of love, still less to an
offer of marriage. She was just now on a visit to her cousin, Miss
Falconer being very ready to spare her, hoping that in Clifton or
Bristol she might find a cure for her low spirits, and generally
dejected air, which her aunt did not like to have remarked upon by the
gossips of Wells, and which had certainly very much increased of late.

* * * * *

Joyce ran upstairs to prepare for her visit, and on the first floor
found Mrs. Arundel.

"Mr. Bengough has been here, Joyce, with great news; the Bill was
carried with a large majority in the Commons, and now there is only the
Lords, and surely they will not turn it out."