there is one upon which we shall agree--that no man should doctor his
own flesh and blood. Now, look here, I want you to let me attend upon
your good wife. However much you go-ahead young fellows may turn up
your noses at us old fossils, I think you will admit that by this time I
ought to be able to show a baby into the world, especially as I had the
honour of performing that office for yourself, my young friend."

For a moment I hesitated. What Sir John said was quite true; he was a
sound and skilful obstetrician of the old school. Moreover, he evidently
intended to hold out the olive branch by this kind offer, which I felt
that I ought to accept. Already, having conquered in the fray, I forgave
him the injuries that he had worked me. It is not in my nature to bear
unnecessary malice--indeed, I hate making or having an enemy. And yet
I hesitated, not from any premonition or presentiment of the dreadful
events that were to follow, but simply because of my wife's objection
to being attended by any one but myself. I thought of advancing this
in excuse of a refusal, but checked myself, because I was sure that he
would interpret it as a rebuff, and in consequence hate me more bitterly
than ever. So in the end I accepted his offer gratefully, and we parted.

When I told Emma she was a little upset, but being a sensible woman she
soon saw the force of my arguments and fell in with the situation.
In truth, unselfish creature that she was, she thought more of the
advantage that would accrue to me by this formal burying of the hatchet
than of her own prejudices or convenience.

The time came and with it Sir John Bell, large, sharp-eyed, and jocose.
In due course and under favourable conditions a daughter was born to me,
a very beautiful child, fair like her mother, but with my dark eyes.