Old people should remember that the peaceful monotony which has become their own idea of happiness, must by the laws of nature spell a very different word to buoyant, restless youth, and also that there comes a stage when the children are not children any longer, when they are entitled to their own opinions, and may even--most reverently be it said--understand what is best for themselves, better than those of a different generation; and the young people in their turn should remember the long years of tender care and devotion which they have received, and be infinitely patient in their turn. They, who are so impatient of passing ailments, should try to imagine how it would feel to be always feeble, and to see in the future the certainty of growing more and more suffering and incapable. They should realise that it is in their power to make the sunshine of declining days, and thereby to store up for themselves a lasting joy, instead of a reproach. In looking back upon those two years spent in Rutland Road, Sylvia forgot her aunt's lack of sympathy, her prosy talk, and repeated fault- finding; they were lost in remembering the true kindness of heart which lay beneath all mannerism. What she was never able to forget was her own impatience and neglect of opportunity. Once or twice as the days passed by, Bridgie O'Shaughnessy ran to the gate to intercept her friend as she passed, and exchange a hurried greeting, but Sylvia would not trust her great news to such occasions as these. She waited until an opportunity arose for an uninterrupted talk, and as she waited a desire awoke and grew in intensity, to herself tell Jack of the coming separation. Bridgie must, of course, be informed of the journey to France and Germany, but she would wait until the evening of Esmeralda's reception before disclosing the full extent of her travels. When she and Jack were sitting together in one of the charming little niches in which the rooms abounded, he would naturally begin to talk of her journey, and she would smile and look unconcerned, and, in the most cheerful and natural of tones, announce that she was not coming back to Rutland Road, that it would probably be a year at least before she saw England again. Surely when he heard this for the first time, when it was burst upon him as an utter surprise, she would read in his face whether she had been right in imagining that he really "cared," or if it had been a delusion born of girlish vanity. She would be quite calm and serene, would not in any way pose as a martyr or seem to expect any expression of distress, but she could not--could not bring herself to go away without making this one innocent little effort to solve the mystery which meant so much to her happiness and peace of mind.