ow steadily earning sufficed for
all our wants.

In the February of the new year our first child was born--a son. My
mother and sister and Mrs. Vesey were our guests at the little
christening party, and Mrs. Clements was present to assist my wife on
the same occasion. Marian was our boy's godmother, and Pesca and Mr.
Gilmore (the latter acting by proxy) were his godfathers. I may add
here that when Mr. Gilmore returned to us a year later he assisted the
design of these pages, at my request, by writing the Narrative which
appears early in the story under his name, and which, though first in
order of precedence, was thus, in order of time, the last that I
received.

The only event in our lives which now remains to be recorded, occurred
when our little Walter was six months old.

At that time I was sent to Ireland to make sketches for certain
forthcoming illustrations in the newspaper to which I was attached. I
was away for nearly a fortnight, corresponding regularly with my wife
and Marian, except during the last three days of my absence, when my
movements were too uncertain to enable me to receive letters. I
performed the latter part of my journey back at night, and when I
reached home in the morning, to my utter astonishment there was no one
to receive me. Laura and Marian and the child had left the house on
the day before my return.

A note from my wife, which was given to me by the servant, only
increased my surprise, by informing me that they had gone to Limmeridge
House. Marian had prohibited any attempt at written explanations--I
was entreated to follow them the moment I came back--complete
enlightenment awaited me on my arrival in Cumberland--and I was
forbidden to feel the slightest anxiety in the meantime. There the
note ended. It was still early enough to catch the morning train. I
reached Limmeridge House the same afternoon.

My wife and Marian were both upstairs. They had established themselves
(by way of completing my amazement) in the little room which had been
once assigned to me for a studio, when I was employed on Mr. Fairlie's
drawings. On the very chair which I used to occupy when I was at work
Marian was sitting now, with the child industriously sucking his coral
upon her lap--while Laura was standing by the well-remembered
drawing-table which I had so often used, with the little album that I
had filled for her in past times open under her hand.

"What in the name of heaven has broug