te."

"The mother, sir," sobbed Lady Cicely; "the poor mother?"

"Like them all--poor creature: in heaven, madam; in heaven. New life!
new existence! a new character. All the pride, glory, rapture, and
amazement of maternity--thanks to her ignorance, which we must prolong,
or I would not give one straw for her life, or her son's. I shall never
leave the house till she does know it, and come when it may, I dread the
hour. She is not framed by nature to bear so deadly a shock."

"Her father, sir. Would he not be the best person to break it to her? He
was out to-day."

"Her father, ma'am? I shall get no help from him. He is one of those
soft, gentle creatures, that come into the world with what your canting
fools call a mission; and his mission is to take care of number one.
Not dishonestly, mind you, nor violently, nor rudely, but doucely and
calmly. The care a brute like me takes of his vitals, that care Lusignan
takes of his outer cuticle. His number one is a sensitive plant. No
scenes, no noise; nothing painful--by-the-by, the little creature that
writes in the papers, and calls calamities PAINFUL, is of Lusignan's
breed. Out to-day! of course he was out, ma'am: he knew from me his
daughter would be in peril all day, so he visited a friend. He knew his
own tenderness, and evaded paternal sensibilities: a self-defender. I
count on no help from that charming man."

"A man! I call such creachaas weptiles!" said Lady Cicely, her ghastly
cheek coloring for a moment.

"Then you give them a false importance."

In the course of this interview, Lady Cicely accused herself sadly of
having interfered between man and wife, and with the best intentions
brought about this cruel calamity. "Judge, then, sir," said she,
"how grateful I am to you for undertaking this cruel task. I was her
schoolfellow, sir, and I love her dearly; but she has turned against me,
and now, oh, with what horror she will regard me!"

"Madam," said the doctor, "there is nothing more mean and unjust than
to judge others by events that none could foresee. Your conscience
is clear. You did your best for my poor nephew: but Fate willed it
otherwise. As for my niece, she has many virtues, but justice is one
you must not look for in that quarter. Justice requires brains. It's
a virtue the heart does not deal in. You must be content with your own
good conscience, and an old man's esteem. You did all for the best; and
this very day you have done a good, kind