. Family secrets; or, Hints to those who would make home happy. pon the hearts and the consciences of her chil-dren, for time, and for eternity. I have yet another duty, said Lady Mornford,ringing the bell, and ordering the servant to request to come up stairs — I have another duty, and thenall will be finished. Mr. Bond, said she, holding out her hand as heentered the room, and speaking in a tone more thanusually affectionate— you are the only man amongst allmy husbands associates, for whom he cares one in your turn understand Sir James—his characterand disposition ; both ar
. Family secrets; or, Hints to those who would make home happy. pon the hearts and the consciences of her chil-dren, for time, and for eternity. I have yet another duty, said Lady Mornford,ringing the bell, and ordering the servant to request to come up stairs — I have another duty, and thenall will be finished. Mr. Bond, said she, holding out her hand as heentered the room, and speaking in a tone more thanusually affectionate— you are the only man amongst allmy husbands associates, for whom he cares one in your turn understand Sir James—his characterand disposition ; both are peculiar, I am not going totalk to you about the state of my soul, as the Methodistssay, or any of those things which Sir James tells meought to be left to parsons and old women; but I dowant to say a word about my poor children. If—if, —and her lips, which already had assumed the paleness ofashes, quivered as she spoke— If I should die, Sir Jameswould never take any more thought about them. Hewould dread to behold anything that could remind him. DANGERS OF DINING OUT. 67 of me ; for, worthless as I am, he loves me beyond allreason; and the fact of his heart being so shut againstall the world, only makes him love me the more. Now,what I want to say is this—Will you—will your wifegive some little care, just to see that the servants dontabuse them—that is all. And, now, are you ready ? 68 CHAP. III. DANGERS OF DINING OUT. It was late one winters evening, when Frederick Bond,after filling his glass for the third time, leaned his armsupon the table, and looked earnestly at his wife, as ifanxious to be invited to speak. It was not a scene ofconvivial enjoyment, as the sparkle of his eye might seemto indicate, but a quiet fire-side scene ; yet how differentfrom that, in the midst of which they used to spend theirevenings, some five years ago. That figure, too, the palethin female, so busily applying her needle, close to theone candle—can that be Eleanor Bond ? S
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