onged to the dis-Honourable Phil; and Elinor, _Elinor_, of all
people in the world, threw up her head and confronted him with disdain
because he called the brat it, and not him or her, whichever it was.
John recollected well enough that sentence at which he had been so
indignant in the telegram--"child, a boy "--but he affected to himself
not to know what it was for the indulgence of a little contumely: and
the reward he had got was contumely upon his own head. But when he
looked at Elinor's pale face, the eyes so much larger than they ought
to be, with tears welling out unawares, dried up for a moment by
indignation or quick hasty temper, the temper which made her sweeter
words all the more sweet he had always thought--then rising again
unawares under the heavy lids, the lips so ready to quiver, the pathetic
lines about the mouth: when he looked at all these John's heart smote
him. He would have called the child anything, if there had been a sex
superior to him the baby should have it. And what was there that man
could do that he would not do for the deliverance of the mother and the
child?

CHAPTER XXV.

It cannot be said that this evening at the Cottage was an agreeable one.
To think that Elinor should be there, and yet that there should be so
little pleasure in the fact that the old party, which had once been so
happy together, should be together again, was bewildering. And yet there
was one member of it who was happy with a shamefaced unacknowledged joy.
To think that that which made her child miserable should make her happy
was a dreadful thought to Mrs. Dennistoun, and yet how could she help
it? Elinor was there, and the baby was there, the new unthought-of
creature which had brought with it a new anxiety, a rush of new thoughts
and wishes. Already everything else in the mind of Elinor's mother began
to yield to the desire to retain these two--the new mother and the
child. But she did not avow this desire. She was mostly silent,
taking little part in the discussion, which was indeed a very curious
discussion, since Elinor, debating the question how she was to abandon
her husband and defend herself against him, never mentioned his name.

She did not come in to dinner, which Mrs. Dennistoun and John Tatham ate
solemnly alone, saying but little, trying to talk upon indifferent
topics, with that very wretched result which is usual when people at one
of the great crises of life have to make conversation for