“Nobody going to live in it more!” he repeated the words with a faint smile. “No--on the contrary, it looked the most liveable place I ever saw. I never felt its home-look so much.” “It is a nice little place,” she said, with a little pressure of his arm. “Whatever may happen to the children in after life, we can always feel that they have had a happy youth and a bright home.” “What should happen to them?” he said, alarmed with a sudden fear that she must know. “Oh, nothing, I hope, but what is good; but the first change in the family always makes one think. I hope you won’t mind, Edward: Lance Moulton is here.” “Oh, he is here!” “If it is really to be so, Edward, don’t you think it is better they should see as much of each other as possible?” his wife said, with another tender pressure of his arm. “And somehow, when there is a thing of that kind in the air, everything seems quickened; I am sure I can’t tell how it is. It gives a ‘go’ to all they are doing. There are no end of plans and schemes among them. Of course, Lance has a friend or two about, and the Dropmores are here, who are such friends of our girls.” “And all is fun and nonsense, I suppose?” “Well, if you call it so--all pleasure, and kindness, and real delightful holiday. Oh, Edward,” said Mrs. Sandford, with the ghost of a tear in her eye, “don’t let us check it! It is the brightest time of their lives.” The sunset was blazing in glory upon the sea, the belts of cloud all reddening and glowing, soft puffs of vapour like roses floating across the blue of the sky. And the air full of young voices softened and musical, children playing, lovers wandering about, happy mothers watching the sport, all tender gaiety, and security, and peace. Everything joyful--save one thing. “No; God forbid that I should check it,” he said hastily, with a sigh that might have been a groan.