nonsense of ninnies. She was truly a high-minded person, of that order
who always do what they see to be right, and always have confidence in
their optics. She was not unworthy of a young man's admiration, if she
was unfit to be his guide. She resumed her ancient intimacy with Austin
easily, while she preserved her new footing with Richard. She and Austin
were not unlike, only Austin never dreamed, and had not married an old
lord.

The three were walking on the bridge at Limburg on the Lahn, where the
shadow of a stone bishop is thrown by the moonlight on the water brawling
over slabs of slate. A woman passed them bearing in her arms a baby,
whose mighty size drew their attention.

"What a wopper!" Richard laughed.

"Well, that is a fine fellow," said Austin, "but I don't think he's much
bigger than your boy."

"He'll do for a nineteenth-century Arminius," Richard was saying. Then
he looked at Austin.

"What was that you said?" Lady Judith asked of Austin.

"What have I said that deserves to be repeated?" Austin counterqueried
quite innocently.

"Richard has a son?"

"You didn't know it?"