"Die, my darling? No, certainly not. You are going to live, to be what
you always have been, the dearest, sweetest wife in the world." And he
believed implicitly[1] what he said.

Then came a strange sleep, half waking, half dreaming. Lady Charlewood
fancied that she was with her husband on the seashore, and that the
waves were coming in so fast that they threatened to drown her, they
were advancing in such great sheets of foam. Once more she clung to him,
crying:

"Help me, Hubert; I shall be drowned--see how the tide is coming in!"

Then the doctor bade him leave her--he must go down to the shabby,
lowly little room, where the gas was burning, and the early dawn of the
morning was coming in. The agony of unrest was on him. He thought how
useless was money, after all; here he was with thousands at his command,
yet he could not purchase help or safety for her whom his soul loved
best. He was helpless, he could do nothing to assist her; he could trust
only to Heaven.

He went from the window to the door; he trembled at the solemn silence,
the terrible hush; he longed for the full light of day. Suddenly he
heard a sound that stirred the very depths of his heart--that brought a
crimson flush to his face and tears to his eyes. It was the faint cry of
a little child. Presently he heard the footsteps of Dr. Letsom; and the
next minute the doctor was standing before him, with a grave look on his
face.

"You have a little daughter," he said--"a beautiful little girl--but