“Yes,” Lady Hatton answered to my question concerning the youths I had seen in the church with them, “they were my boys.  I have four sons.  The eldest, called John, is attending to his father’s business while my husband takes a little holiday.  Stephen is studying law, and George is preparing for the Navy; my youngest boy, Elbert, is still at Rugby.”

“And your daughters?” I asked.

She smiled divinely.  “Oh!” she replied.  “They are such darlings!  Alice is married and Jane is married and Clara is staying with her grandmother.  She is only sixteen.  She is very beautiful and Mrs. Hatton will hardly let her leave the Hall.”

“Then Mrs. Hatton is still alive?” I said.

“Yes, indeed, very much so.  She will live to her last moment, and likely ‘pass out of it,’ as our people say, busy with heart and head and hands.”

“And what of Mrs. Harry?” I asked.

“Ah, she left us some years ago!  Just faded away.  For nearly two years she knew she was dying, and was preparing her household for her loss, yet joining as best she could in all the careless mirth of her children.  But she talked to me of what was approaching and said she often whispered to herself, ‘Another hour gone.’  Dear Lucy, we all loved her.  Her children are doing well, the boys are all in Sir John’s employ.”

“And Mr. Harry?  Does he still sing?”

“Not much since Lucy’s death.  But he looks after the land, and paints and reads a great deal, and we are all very fond of Harry.  His mother must see him every day, and Sir John is nearly as foolish.  Harry was born to be loved and everyone loves him.  He has gone lately to the Church of England, but Sir John, though a member of Parliament, stands loyally by the Methodist church.”

“And you?”

“I go with Sir John in everything.  I try to walk in his steps, and so keep middling straight.  Sir John lives four square, careless of outward shows.  It is years and years since I followed my own way.  Sir John’s ways are wiser and better.  He is always ready for the duty of the hour and never restless as to what will come after it.  Is not that a good rule?”

“Are you on your way home now?” I asked.

“Oh, no!  We are going as far as the Shetlands.  John had a happy holiday there before we were married.  He is taking Stephen and George to see the lonely isles.”

“You have had a very happy life, Lady Hatton?”

“Yes,” she answered.  “The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places.”

“And you have beautiful children.”

“Thank God!  His blessing and peace came to me from the cradle.  One day I found my Bible open at II Esdras, second chapter, and my eyes fell on the fifteenth verse:  ’Mother, embrace thy children and bring them up with gladness.’  I knew a poor woman who had ten children, and instead of complaining, she was proud and happy because she said God must have thought her a rare good mother to trust her with ten of His sons and daughters.”