id
Trevelyan, taking the child and placing it on his knee. "I suppose
you have forgotten your unfortunate father." The child, of course,
said nothing, but just allowed himself to be kissed.

"He is looking very well," said Mrs. Outhouse.

"Is he? I dare say he is well. Louey, my boy, are you happy?" The
question was asked in a voice that was dismal beyond compare, and it
also remained unanswered. He had been desired to speak nicely to his
papa, but how was it possible that a child should speak nicely under
such a load of melancholy? "He will not speak to me," said Trevelyan.
"I suppose it is what I might have expected." Then the child was put
off his knee on to the floor, and began to whimper. "A few months
since he would sit there for hours, with his head upon my breast,"
said Trevelyan.

"A few months is a long time in the life of such an infant," said
Mrs. Outhouse.

"He may go away," said Trevelyan. Then the child was led out of the
room, and sent up to his mother.

"Emily has done all she can to make the child love your memory," said
Mrs. Outhouse.

"To love my memory! What;--as though I were dead. I will teach him to
love me as I am, Mrs. Outhouse. I do not think that it is too late.
Will you tell your husband from me, with my compliments, that I shall
cause him to be served with a legal demand for the restitution of my
child?"

"But Sir Marmaduke will be here in a few days."

"I know nothing of that. Sir Marmaduke is nothing to me now. My child
is my own,--and so is my wife. Sir Marmaduke has no authority over
either one or the other. I find my child here, and it is here that
I must look for him. I am sorry that you should be troubled, but the
fault does not rest with me. Mr. Outhouse has refused to give me up
my own child, and I am driven to take such steps for his recovery as
the law has put within my reach."

"Why did you turn your wife out of doors, Mr. Trevelyan?" asked Mrs.
Outhouse boldly.

"I did not turn her out of doors. I provided a fitting shelter
for her. I gave her everything that she could want. You know what
happened. That man went down and was received there. I defy you, Mrs.
Outhouse, to say that it was my fault."

Mrs. Outhouse did attempt to show him that it was his fault; but
while she was doing so he left the house. "I don't think she could go
back to him," said Mrs. Outhouse to her husband. "He is quite insane
upon this matter."

"I shall be insane, I know," said Mr. Outho