eal, as to heed nothing by the way, like Mr. Bindon; but most are
in an advanced stage of childhood, and need play and pleasure almost
as much as air or food; and these instincts require wholesome
gratification, under such approval as may make the enjoyment bright
and innocent; and yet there should be such subduing of their excess,
such training in discipline, as shall save them from frivolity and
from passing the line of evil, prevent the craving from growing to a
passion, and where it has so grown, tone it back to the limits of
obedience and safety.

Alas! perhaps there lay the domestic difficulty of which Julius
could not speak; yet, as if answering the thought, Dr. Easterby
said, "After all, charity is the true self-acting balance to many a
sweet untaught nature. Self-denials which spring out of love are a
great safeguard, because they are almost sure to be both humble and
unconscious."

And Julius went away cheered as he thought of his Rosamond's wells
of unselfish affection, confident that all the cravings for variety
and excitement, which early habit had rendered second nature, would
be absorbed by the deeper and keener feelings within, and that these
would mount higher as time went on, under life's great training.

Pleasant it was to see the triumphant delight of the two sisters
over their purchases. Such a day's English shopping was quite a new
experience to Anne; and she had not been cautioned against it, so
her enjoyment was as fresh and vivid as a child's; and they both
chattered all the way home with a merriment in which Julius fully
shared, almost surprised to see Anne so eager and lively, and--as
her cheeks glowed and her eyes brightened--beginning to understand
what had attracted Miles.

Mrs. Poynsett had not had quite so pleasant a day, for Cecil knocked
at her door soon after luncheon with an announcement that Lady
Tyrrell wished for admission. Expecting an exposition of the Clio
scheme, she resigned herself, looking with some curiosity at the
beautiful contour of face and drooping pensive loveliness, that had
rather gained than lost in grace since the days when she had deemed
them so formidable.

"This is kind, dear Mrs. Poynsett," said the soft voice, while the
hand insisted on a pressure. "I have often wished to come and see
you, but I could not venture without an excuse."

"Thank you," was the cold reply.

"I have more than an excuse--a reason, and I think we shall be fully
agreed; bu