So their days went. It was a uniform but full life; work and
amusements left them not a dull hour in the day. Discouragement and
quarreling were impossible. The mother's boundless love made
everything smooth. She taught her little sons moderation by refusing
them nothing, and submission by making them see underlying Necessity
in its many forms; she put heart into them with timely praise;
developing and strengthening all that was best in their natures with
the care of a good fairy. Tears sometimes rose to her burning eyes as
she watched them play, and thought how they had never caused her the
slightest vexation. Happiness so far-reaching and complete brings such
tears, because for us it represents the dim imaginings of Heaven which
we all of us form in our minds.

Those were delicious hours spent on that sofa in the garden-house, in
looking out on sunny days over the wide stretches of river and the
picturesque landscape, listening to the sound of her children's voices
as they laughed at their own laughter, to the little quarrels that
told most plainly of their union of heart, of Louis' paternal care of
Marie, of the love that both of them felt for her. They spoke English
and French equally well (they had had an English nurse since their
babyhood), so their mother talked to them in both languages; directing
the bent of their childish minds with admirable skill, admitting no
fallacious reasoning, no bad principle. She ruled by kindness,
concealing nothing, explaining everything. If Louis wished for books,
she was careful to give him interesting yet accurate books--books of
biography, the lives of great seamen, great captains, and famous men,
for little incidents in their history gave her numberless
opportunities of explaining the world and life to her children. She
would point out the ways in which men, really great in themselves, had