waxed thrice amorous. "It's your
second bridals, ye sweet livin' widow!" she said. "Thanks be the Lord!
it's the same man too! and a baby over the bed-post," she appended
seriously.

"Strange," Berry declared it to be, "strange I feel none o' this to my
Berry now. All my feelin's o' love seem t'ave gone into you two sweet
chicks."

In fact, the faithless male Berry complained of being treated badly, and
affected a superb jealousy of the baby; but the good dame told him
that if he suffered at all he suffered his due. Berry's position was
decidedly uncomfortable. It could not be concealed from the lower
household that he had a wife in the establishment, and for the
complications this gave rise to, his wife would not legitimately console
him. Lucy did intercede, but Mrs. Berry, was obdurate. She averred she
would not give up the child till he was weaned. "Then, perhaps," she
said prospectively. "You see I ain't so soft as you thought for."

"You're a very unkind, vindictive old woman," said Lucy.

"Belike I am," Mrs. Berry was proud to agree. We like a new character,
now and then. Berry had delayed too long.

Were it not notorious that the straightlaced prudish dare not listen to,
the natural chaste, certain things Mrs. Berry thought it advisable to
impart to the young wife with regard to Berry's infidelity, and the
charity women should have toward sinful men, might here be reproduced.
Enough that she thought proper to broach the matter, and cite her own
Christian sentiments, now that she was indifferent in some degree.

Oily calm is on the sea. At Raynham they look up at the sky and
speculate that Richard is approaching fairly speeded. He comes to throw
himself on his darling's mercy. Lucy irradiated over forest and sea,
tempest and peace--to her the hero comes humbly. Great is that day
when we see our folly! Ripton and he were the friends of old. Richard
encouraged him to talk of the two he could be eloquent on, and Ripton,
whose secret vanity was in his powers of speech, never tired of
enumerating Lucy's virtues, and the peculiar attributes of the baby.

"She did not say a word against me, Rip?"

"Against you, Richard! The moment she knew she was to be a mother, she
thought of nothing but her duty to the child. She's one who can't think
of herself."

"You've seen her at Raynham, Rip?"

"Yes, once. They asked me down. And your father's so fond of her--I'm
sure he thinks no woman like her, and he's right. She