Hopes for the Future

"Deeds condemned by prudence, have sometimes gone well."
--MATTHEW ARNOLD.

"Ten years!" ejaculated Mrs. Goodman. "Ten years since he crossed the threshold, and then it was only to be carried to the Rose Room while his own rooms were repapered. Oh, that my old eyes should see him walk again!"

The old woman was anxiously watching a little procession which moved slowly along the wide corridor. Francis, with the doctor and Philippa, one on either side, was making his first venture in the way of exercise. Behind him hovered the nurse, and Keen, his devoted man-servant, ready to render immediate assistance should it be necessary.

It was in the same place many, many years before that he had essayed the first halting steps of babyhood, and she well remembered it. She recalled the exact spot where his mother had stood with her arms outstretched, her face alight with pride and affection, breathlessly intent upon every movement of the tiny swaying form setting out on its first journey. Such a short journey, with every obstacle removed that might hinder the safe passage of those unsteady feet. How many mothers have yearned to make as free from peril that longer journey along the road of life which awaits their little one!

Old Jane Goodman could see again the pretty child with the sunlight streaming from the mullioned windows on to his sunny curls--she could hear the baby laughter and the cry of triumph which meant the arrival into the safe refuge of his mother's arms. There was no detail of the occurrence that faithful heart could not recall. Time had no power to dull the recollection which love's alchemy kept clear and bright. Was he not still her boy--her lamb--for all her fourscore years and all the sorrow they had both known between that day and this? And the old walls which had rung to the sound of Francis' baby merriment echoed to his laughter again now. He was in the highest spirits, making a jest of everything, and scorning the idea of any need for caution.