Yet, how she hardly knew, but so it was, none of these hopes had been
fulfilled. She saw almost nothing of the children save during the one
hour after dinner, when she sat silently watching them, one on each
side of their father, and one on his knee, all so happy together. Dr.
Grey always looked happy when he was with his little folk. And they,
their very faults faded off into sweetnesses when they came within the
atmosphere of that good, loving, fatherly nature, for love makes love,
and goodness creates goodness. Titia lost her prim conceit, Atty his
selfish roughness, and Oliver became a perfect little angel of a child
for at least one hour a day--the hour they spent with their father.

It was a pretty picture. Christian, sitting apart, with the gulf of
shining mahogany between, bridged it often with her wistful eyes, but
she never said a word.

She was not jealous, not in the slightest degree; for hers was the large
nature which, deeply recognizing other's rights, and satisfied with its
own, is incapable of any of the lower forms of jealousy; but she was
sad. The luxurious aimlessness of her present life was a little heavy to
the once poor, active, hard-working young governess, who had never
known an idle or even a restful hour. The rest was sweet--oh! how
sweet! but the idleness was difficult to bear. She had tried sometimes
in the long mornings, when the master was shut up in his study, to get
the children with her, and teach them a little; but Miss Gascoigne had
replied that "my late sister" did not approve of any but paid
governesses, and that it was impossible the wife of the Master of St.
Bede's could go "trapesing about like a nursemaid," taking walks with
the children. Their own mamma never thought of doing such a thing.