dashed up to the door, and it is her husband who leaps out. Half a
minute and he is in the room, and she is clasped in his arms.

"My darling!" he exclaims, and you need only hear the two words to
tell how rapturously he loves his wife. "Let me look at you. Oh! as
pale as ever, I see. Never mind! Cheshire air, sunshine, green fields,
and new milk shall bring back your roses. And your son and heir, my
lady, how is he?"

He bends over the pretty bassinet, with that absurd paternal look all
_very_ new fathers regard the first blessing, and his mustache tickles
baby's innocent nose.

A flush comes into her face. She looks at him eagerly.

"At last! Oh, Victor, when do we go?"

"To-morrow, if you are able. The sooner the better."

He says it with rather a forced laugh. Her face clouds a little.

"And your cousin? Was she _very_ angry!" she asked, wistfully; "_very_
much surprised?"

"Well--yes--naturally, I am afraid she was both. We must make the best
of that, however. To tell the truth, I had only one interview with her,
and that of so particularly unpleasant a nature, that I left next
morning. So then we start to-morrow? I'll just drop a line to Erroll
to apprise him."