to Philip. She sat alone with him the
next morning, explained all, and entreated his pardon, humiliating
herself so much, that he could not bear to hear her.

'It was the fault of our whole lifetime, Laura,' said he, recovering
himself, when a few agitated words had passed on either side. 'I taught
you to take my dictum for law, and abused your trusty and perverted all
the best and most precious qualities. It is I who stand first to bear
the blame, and would that I could bear all the suffering! But as it is,
Laura, we must look to enduring the consequence all our lives, and give
each other what support we may.'

Laura could hardly brook his self-accusation, but she could no longer
argue the point; and there was far more peace and truth before them than
when she believed him infallible, and therefore justified herself for
all she had done in blind obedience to him.

CHAPTER 44

Thus souls by nature pitched too high,
By sufferings plunged too low,
Meet in the church's middle sky,
Halfway 'twixt joy and woe;

To practise there the soothing lay,
That sorrow best relieves,
Thankful for all God takes away,
Humbled by all He gives.
--CHRISTIAN YEAR

One Afternoon, late in April, Charles opened the dressing-room door, and
paused a moment, smiling. There sat Amabel on the floor before the fire,
her hand stretched out, playfully holding back the little one, who, with
scanty, flossy, silken curls, hazel eyes and jet-black lashes, plump,
mottled arms, and tiny tottering feet, stood crowing and shouting in
exulting laughter, having just made a triumphant clutch at her mamma's
hair, and pulled down all the light, shining locks, while under their
shade the reddening, smiling face recalled the Amy of days long gone by.

'That's right! cried Charles, delighted, 'pull it all down. Out with
mamma's own curls again!'

'No, I can never wear my curls again,' said Amy, so mournfully, that
he was sorry he had referred to them; and perceiving this, she smiled
sweetly, and pulling a tress to its full length, showed how much too
short it was for anything but being put plainly under the cap, to which
she restored it.

'Is Mrs. Henley come?' she asked.

'As large as life, and that is saying a good deal. She would make two of
Philip. As tall and twice as broad. I thought Juno herself was advancing
on me from the station.'

'How did you get on with her?'