recited to me some verses of George Herbert's--of when God at first made
man, how He gave him strength, beauty, wisdom, honor, pleasure, all to
keep, but with repining restlessness. They were a prophecy. I cannot
find them." She restored the volume to its shelf, quoting the last
lines--all she remembered distinctly:

"Let him be rich and weary, that at last,
If goodness lead him not, yet weariness
May toss him to my breast."

"I know; they are in the last volume, toward the end," said Bessie
Fairfax, and quickly found them. "They do not say that God gave man
love; and that is a craving too. Don't you think so?"

Lady Latimer looked straight before her out of the window with lips
compressed.

"What do you mean by love, my dear?--so many foolish feelings go by that
name," said Miss Charlotte, filling the pause.

"Oh, I mean just love--the warm, happy feeling in my heart toward
everybody who belongs to me or is good to me--to my father and mother
and all of them at home, and to my grandfather now and my uncle
Laurence, and more besides."

"You are an affectionate soul!" said my lady, contemplating her quietly.
"You were born loving and tender--"

"Like dear Dorothy," added Miss Charlotte with a sigh. "It is a great
treasure, a warm heart."