d, serve him for
more; and this, with the load and the stings of a profound repentance,
formed his history through the next fortnight.

He used often to stand gazing at the slowly-rising walls of Miss
Wellwood's buildings, and the only time he exerted himself in his old
way to put down any folly in conversation, was when he silenced some of
the nonsense talked about her, and evinced his own entire approval of
her proceedings.

CHAPTER 39

Beneath a tapering ash-tree's shade
Three graves are by each other laid.
Around the very place doth brood
A strange and holy quietude.
--BAPTISTERY

Late on the afternoon of the 6th of March, Mary Ross entered by the
half-opened front door at Hollywell, just as Charles appeared slowly
descending the stairs.

'Well! how is she?' asked Mary eagerly.

'Poor little dear!' he answered, with a sigh; 'she looks very nice and
comfortable.'

'What, you have seen her?'

'I am at this moment leaving her room.'

'She is going on well, I hope?'

'Perfectly well. There is one comfort at least,' said Charles, drawing
himself down the last step.

'Dear Amy! And the babe--did you see it?'

'Yes; the little creature was lying by her, and she put her hand on it,
and gave one of those smiles that are so terribly like his; but I could
not have spoken about it for the world. Such fools we be!' concluded
Charles, with an attempt at a smile.

'It is healthy?'

'All a babe ought to be, they say, all that could be expected of it,
except the not being of the right sort, and if Amy does not mind that,
I don't know who should,' and Charles deposited himself on the sofa,
heaving a deep sigh, intended to pass for the conclusion of the
exertion.

'Then you think she is not disappointed?'

'Certainly not. The first thing she said when she was told it was a
girl, was, "I am so glad!" and she does seem very happy with it, poor
little thing! In fact, mamma thinks she had so little expected that
it would go well with herself, or with it, that now it is all like a
surprise.'

There was a silence, first broken by Charles saying, 'You must be
content with me--I can't send for anyone. Bustle has taken papa and
Charlotte for a walk, and Laura is on guard over Amy, for we have made
mamma go and lie down. It was high time, after sitting up two nights,
and meaning to sit up a third.'

'Has she really--can she bear it?'

'Yes; I am afraid I have tr