"Gone early to Bridgwater; there is a cattle sale to-day, and he and Mr. Watson went off at six o'clock." "Ralph does not let the grass grow under his feet,--eh! Falconer? It is the early bird that finds the worm." Melville smiled. The gorgeous colours of his dressing gown and fez came out in grand relief against the old porch, and Mr. Paget thought to himself, how odd it was that Mr. Falconer's son should be so entirely unlike either father or mother. He had dismounted; while old Thomas held the horse, he had helped Joyce into the carriage, and patted the rounded cheeks of the baby, whom her mother now took from her grandmother, and settled comfortably on her knee, while he called out to Falcon, who was in the dickey with Susan and the luggage, not to put out his eyes with a long cane he was brandishing, kicking his feet vigorously all the time, and shouting "Gee up!" at the pitch of his young lungs. The two little rosebuds of girls sat demure and quiet on the back seat with their uncle Piers; and then, with a final "Good-bye" and waving his hands, the scarlet-coated post-boy cracked his whip, and Joyce and her children were fairly off for home; for, sweet as the old home was, and full of tender memories, the large city house in Great George Street was dearer still. [Illustration: Queen's Square, Bristol.] Never had a cloud of mistrust or doubt come between Gilbert and his wife. They were subject, as we all are, to the little trials and annoyances of life, but these were all, outside that inner temple where, secure in each other's love, and bound by the golden chain of faith and trust in God, who had given them so many beautiful gifts and tokens of His loving care, they could always retire and feel that they were happy. This fair and gracious temple of married love is one of the most beautiful possessions that any one can rejoice in. But it needs to be carefully watched, lest any moth should enter, or rust mar its brightness, or serpent creep into the paradise.