There is no love on earth like a mother's love: no love so pure, so lasting, so unselfish; no love which comes so near the love of God Himself,—though infinitely distant from it. As everything human varies, so in different natures the quality of even this varies; and Mrs. Browning's was not, perhaps, of the very highest type of mother-love. She did love her children intensely, but in some measure it was for and in herself. Yet when a test time came, the reality of her love would lift her superior to her ordinary self; and such a test time had come now. She know that Nigel was not happy, and she was far too true a mother to rest in that knowledge. Worse still, she knew that she had had a hand in bringing on the present condition of things, and that she might not lift a finger to undo what she had wrought. This knowledge weighed upon her heavily. Thus, when the sunny month of May came, there were clouds as well as sunshine in the sky of No. 9 Bourne Street. Fulvia was alone, but Daisy presently came in with a whisk and a rush, upsetting two small chairs. "Daisy!" "There's no room for anything here." "The more need to carry one's limbs discreetly! I wish you would help me with these antimacassars. I want to get them done before lunch." "Why? There must be lots of old ones good enough." "I want to put out these. It will be a change. Nigel admired the muslin." "Well, I hope I shall never be engaged!" declared Daisy. "Since you went and got engaged to Nigel, you haven't had one single idea apart from him." Fulvia did not take the trouble to contradict her. "And there's that story I'm reading! Oh, bother! If I'm to sew, I must wash my hands." "You need not be an hour over the wash-handstand. Do be quick." Daisy stood still. "Ethel has come home," she said. "Ethel Elvey?" "Yes. I met her just now." "Is she all right again?" "I don't know. I didn't ask. She looks—as if—" and a pause. "As if—?" "I don't know. I shouldn't think she was well." Fulvia had ceased to sew, and was gently pricking her finger with the needle. "She has been a long time away." "Heaps of time. I never knew her do such a thing before. And staying with one old maiden lady all the while. It must have been awfully slow. She says she's going to be awfully busy at home now—lots of parish work. I shall go and see her. I like Ethel." "She is nice enough." "Nigel used to be awfully fond of Ethel. He never speaks of her now." "Are you going to help me with this work, Daisy?" Daisy sauntered away, and Fulvia sat idly, with bent head, thinking. A sound made her glance up, and Nigel stood in front. Fulvia sprang to meet him, with exclamation and glow of delight, her whole face changing. "But what has brought you home now? Is anything wrong?" "Nothing much. I have a stupid headache—" running hit fingers through his hair,—"and Mr. Bramble has let me off. The figures were all turning into live creatures. Will you come for a walk with me?"