nothing--putting aside two or three of the motives I just mentioned--
since he arrived at a noble rarity and I don't see how you can go
beyond that. The hours I spent in his study--this first one and the
few that followed it; they were not, after all, so numerous--seem to
glow, as I look back on them, with a tone that is partly that of the
brown old room, rich, under the shaded candle-light where we sat and
smoked, with the dusky delicate bindings of valuable books; partly
that of his voice, of which I still catch the echo, charged with the
fancies and figures that came at his command. When we went back to
the drawing-room we found Miss Ambient alone in possession and prompt
to mention that her sister-in-law had a quarter of an hour before
been called by the nurse to see the child, who appeared rather
unwell--a little feverish.

"Feverish! how in the world comes he to be feverish?" Ambient asked.
"He was perfectly right this afternoon."

"Beatrice says you walked him about too much--you almost killed him."

"Beatrice must be very happy--she has an opportunity to triumph!"
said my friend with a bright bitterness which was all I could have
wished it.

"Surely not if the child's ill," I ventured to remark by way of
pleading for Mrs. Ambient.

"My dear fellow, you aren't married--you don't know the nature of
wives!" my host returned with spirit.

I tried to match it. "Possibly not; but I know the nature of