But to return to the remark which Louise made to her husband, when he presented her with that good and useful book—­a book which has elicited praise from many able writers, and called forth the gratitude of many wise and good parents.[D]

This remark was anything rather than a grateful acknowledgment to her husband for his thinking of her when absent; and it not only evinced a spirit of thoughtlessness and ingratitude to him, but manifested a remarkable share of self-sufficiency and self-complacency.

Just so it is with a head of wheat.  When it is empty, it stands perfectly erect, and looks self-confident; but as soon as it is filled with the precious grain, it modestly bends its head, and waives most gracefully, as if to welcome every whispering breeze.

But was Louise wanting in affection and care to her own child?  No; not in one sense, for she was foolishly fond of this little paragon of perfection.  She one day said, boastingly, “My child has never been washed but with a fine cambric handkerchief, which is none too good for her soft flesh.  Nothing can be too good for this precious darling, and while I live she shall never want for any indulgence I can procure for her.”

It might be said, too, that Louise evinced a fondness for her husband; and she was proud of the attentions of a youth who was admired for his remarkable polish of manners; but she certainly had not at this time—­whatever she might afterwards acquire—­a warm and generous heart, free from selfish interests, to bestow upon any object on earth or in heaven.

Notwithstanding Joseph’s elegant address and appearance, his character was in one respect vulnerable, as will be seen from a trivial act which I have yet to mention.

His mother was an occasional assistant in her son’s family.  He was her only son.  She was in most respects a highly-educated woman, with no ordinary share of self-possession, having pleasing manners, unless it might be said that she evinced a kind of hauteur, which made her rather feared than loved.  But it was apparent to every one that she was selfishly attached to this only son.  Louise said one day to a friend—­“I never had occasion to be jealous of Joseph’s attentions to me, or of his affection for me, except when his mother was present.”

No one could help noticing the greater deference this mother paid to her son, even when his father was present; and most fully did this son reciprocate his mother’s respectful attachment.  This love and reverence for his mother, on the part of this son, would have been right and beautiful if it had not been so exclusive.

In one of her visits in her son’s family, when she was in feeble health, this son proposed to his mother, towards night, in the presence of Louise, but without conferring with her, that his mother should lodge in his broad bed, with Louise, in their well-heated nursery.