will make those children as soft-hearted as yourself."
"My dearest Albert," exclaimed Mrs. Dalton, "I believe half the cruelty in after life proceeds from the indifference with which children are accustomed to torment the few things within their little sphere of influence. We are all of us too selfish and too careless of what others may feel, and, from the very first, I wish Ellen and Julia to think of what may be suffered from their own heedlessness. Let them, above all things, be kind-hearted."
"Provided it does not," remarked her husband, "degenerate into weakness."
Mrs. Dalton smiled her assent, and the return of the children, with the white rose, put a stop to further conversation. The shadows gradually lengthened, and the gigantic outline of the elms became confused one with another. Fain would Mrs. Dalton have lingered in the open air, all was so calm, so lovely, every breath she drew brought a differing odour, as first one shrub, and then
