outcast, and which she would not have cared for even if it had
welcomed her--for a happy woman does not care for the world--she had
not caught the elegance of manner or learned the art of conversation,
abounding in words and devoid of ideas, which is current in fashionable
drawing-rooms; on the other hand, she worked hard to gain the knowledge
indispensable to a mother whose chief ambition is to bring up her
children well. Never to lose sight of her boy, to give him from the
cradle that training of every minute which impresses on the young a
love of all that is good and beautiful, to shelter him from every evil
influence and fulfil both the painful duties of a nurse and the tender
offices of a mother,--these were her chief pleasures.

The coy and gentle being had from the first day so fully resigned
herself never to step beyond the enchanted sphere where she found all
her happiness, that, after six years of the tenderest intimacy, she
still knew her lover only by the name of Roger. A print of the picture
of the Psyche lighting her lamp to gaze on Love in spite of his
prohibition, hung in her room, and constantly reminded her of the
conditions of her happiness. Through all these six years her humble
pleasures had never importuned Roger by a single indiscreet ambition,
and his heart was a treasure-house of kindness. Never had she longed for
diamonds or fine clothes, and had again and again refused the luxury of
a carriage which he had offered her. To look out from her balcony for
Roger's cab, to go with him to the play or make excursions with him,
on fine days in the environs of Paris, to long for him, to see him,
and then to long again,--these made up the history of her life, poor in
incidents but rich in happiness.

As she rocked the infant, now a few months old, on her knee, singing
the while, she allowed herself to recall the memories of the past. She
lingered more especially on the months of September, when Roger was
accustomed to take her to Bellefeuille and spend the delightful days
which seem to combine the charms of every season. Nature is equally
prodigal of flowers and fruit, the evenings are mild, the mornings
bright, and a blaze of summer often returns after a spell of autumn
gloom. During the early days of their love, Caroline had ascribed the
even mind and gentle temper, of which Roger gave her so many proofs,
to the rarity of their always longed-for meetings, and to their mode of
life, which did not compe