LITMIR.BIZ

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Sheckleton tying on her bonnet, and getting her cloak about her.

      "Oh! Cleve, dear" – she called him "Cleve" now – "I'm so delighted; she's doing very well; the doctor's quite pleased with her, and it's a boy, Cleve, and – and I wish you joy with all my heart."

      And as she spoke, the kind old lady was shaking both his hands, and smiling up into his handsome face, like sunshine; but that handsome face, though it smiled down darkly upon her, was, it seemed to her, strangely joyless, and even troubled.

      "And Cleve, dear, my dear Mr. Verney – I'm so sorry; but I must go immediately. I make his chocolate in the morning, and he sometimes calls for it at half-past seven. This miserable attack that has kept him here, and the risk in which he is at every day he stays in this town, it is so distracting. And if I should not be at home and ready to see him when he calls, he'd be sure to suspect something; and I really see nothing but ruin from his temper and violence to all of us, if he were to find out how it is. So good-bye, and God bless you. The doctor says he thinks you may see her in a very little time – half an hour or so – if you are very careful not to let her excite or agitate herself; and – God bless you – I shall be back, for a little, in an hour or two."

      So that kindly, fluttered, troubled, and happy old lady disappeared; and Cleve was left again to his meditations.

      "Where's the doctor?" asked Cleve of the servant.

      "In the sitting-room, please, sir, writing; his carriage is come, sir, please."

      And thus saying, Mistress Anne Evans officiously opened the door, and Cleve entered. The doctor, having written a prescription, and just laid down his pen, was pulling on his glove.

      Cleve had no idea that he was to see Doctor Grimshaw. Quite another physician, with whom he had no acquaintance, had been agreed upon between him and Miss Sheckleton. As it turned out, however, that gentleman was now away upon an interesting visit, at a country mansion, and Doctor Grimshaw was thus unexpectedly summoned.

      Cleve was unpleasantly surprised, for he had already an acquaintance with that good man, which he fancied was not recorded in his recollection to his credit. I think if the doctor's eye had not been directed toward the door when he entered, that Cleve Verney would have drawn back; but that would not do now.

      "Doctor Grimshaw?" said Cleve.

      "Yes, sir;" said the old gentleman.

      "I think, Doctor Grimshaw, you know me?"

      "Oh, yes, sir; of course I do;" said the Doctor, with an uncomfortable smile, ever so little bitter, and a slight bow, "Mr. Verney, yes." And the doctor paused, looking toward him, pulling on his other glove, and expecting a question.

      "Your patient, Doctor Grimshaw, doing very well, I'm told?"

      "Nicely, sir – very nicely now. I was a little uncomfortable about her just at one time, but doing very well now; and it's a boy – a fine child. Good morning, sir."

      He had taken up his hat.

      "And Doctor Grimshaw, just one word. May I beg, as a matter of professional honour, that this – all this, shall be held as strictly secret– everything connected with it as strictly confidential?"

      The doctor looked down on the carpet with a pained countenance. "Certainly, sir," he said, drily. "That's all, I suppose? Of course, Mr. Verney, I shan't – since such I suppose to be the wish of all parties – mention the case."

      "Of all parties, certainly; and it is in tenderness to others, not to myself, that I make the request."

      "I'm sorry it should be necessary, sir;" said Doctor Grimshaw, almost sternly. "I know Miss Sheckleton and her family; this poor young lady, I understand, is a cousin of hers. I am sorry, sir, upon her account, that any mystery should be desirable."

      "It is desirable, and, in fact, indispensable, sir," said Cleve, a little stiffly, for he did not see what right that old doctor had to assume a lecturer's tone toward him.

      "No one shall be compromised by me, sir," said the doctor, with a sad and offended bow.

      And the Doctor drove home pretty well tired out. I am afraid that Cleve did not very much care whom he might compromise, provided he himself were secure. But even from himself the utter selfishness, which toned a character passionate and impetuous enough to simulate quite unconsciously the graces of magnanimity and tenderness, was hidden.

      Cleve fancied that the cares that preyed upon his spirits were for Margaret, and when he sometimes almost regretted their marriage, that his remorse was principally for her, that all his caution and finesse were exacted by his devotion to the interests of his young wife, and that the long system of mystery and deception, under which her proud, frank, spirit was pining, was practised solely for her advantage.

      So Cleve was in his own mind something of a hero – self-sacrificing, ready, if need be, to shake himself free, for sake of his love and his liberty, of all the intoxications and enervations of his English life, and fortis colonus, to delve the glebe of Canada or to shear the sheep of Australia. He was not conscious that all these were the chimeras of insincerity, that ambition was the breath of his nostrils, and that his idol was – himself.

      And if he mistakes himself, do not others mistake him also, and clothe him with the nobleness of their own worship? Can it be that the lights and the music and the incense that surround him are but the tributes of a beautiful superstition, and that the idol in the midst is cold and dumb?

      Cleve, to do him justice, was moved on this occasion. He did – shall I say? – yearn to behold her again. There was a revival of tenderness, and he waited with a real impatience to see her.

      He did see her – just a little gleam of light in the darkened room; he stood beside the bed, clasping that beautiful hand that God had committed to his, smiling down in that beautiful face that smiled unutterable love up again into his own.

      "Oh! Cleve, darling – oh, Cleve! I'm so happy."

      The languid hands are clasped on his, the yearning eyes, and the smile, look up. It is like the meeting of the beloved after shipwreck.

      "And look, Cleve;" and with just ever so little a motion of her hand she draws back a silken coverlet, and he sees in a deep sleep a little baby, and the beautiful smile of young maternity falls upon it like a blessing and a caress. "Isn't it a darling? Poor little thing! how quietly it sleeps. I think it is the dearest little thing that ever was seen —our little baby!"

      Is there a prettier sight than the young mother smiling, in this the hour of her escape, upon the treasure she has found? The wondrous gift, at sight of which a new fountain of love springs up – never, while life remains, to cease its flowing. Looking on such a sight in silence, I think I hear the feet of the angels round the bed – I think I see their beautiful eyes smiling on the face of the little mortal, and their blessed hands raised over the head of the fair young mother.

      CHAPTER IV.

      LOVE'S REMORSE

      "Teach me, ye groves, some art to ease my pain,

      Some soft resentments that may leave no stain

      On her loved name, and then I will complain."

      Next day, after dinner, Lord Verney said to Cleve, as they two sat alone, "I saw you at Lady Dorminster's last night. I saw you – about it. It seems to me you go to too many places, with the House to attend to; you stay too long; one can look in, you know. Sometimes one meets a person; I had a good deal of interesting conversation last night, for instance, with the French Ambassador. No one takes a hint better; they are very good listeners, the French, and that is the way they pick up so much information and opinion, and things. I had a cup of tea, and we talked about it, for half-an-hour, until I had got my ideas well before him. A very able man, a brilliant person, and seemed – he appeared to go with me – about it – and very well up upon our history – and things – and – and – looking at you, it struck me – you're looking a good deal cut up, about it – and – and as if you were doing too much. And I said, you know, you were to look about, and see if there was any young person

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