in the morning; the middle of the night, according to Lucy. Where
could she have gone? Then he bethought himself with an immediate relief,
which was soon replaced by poignant anxiety, of the only possible reason
for her absence--a reason which would explain everything--little Tom.
When this thought occurred to him all the excitement that had been in
Sir Tom's mind disappeared in a moment, and he thought of nothing but
that baby lying, perhaps tossing uneasily, upon his little bed, his
mother watching over him; most sacred group on earth to him, who,
whatever his faults might be, loved them both dearly. He took a candle
in his hand and, stepping lightly, went up the stairs to the nursery
door. There was no sound of wailing within, no pitiful little cry to
tell the tale; all was still and dark. He tried the door softly, but it
would not open. Then another terror awoke, and for the moment took his
breath from him. What had happened to the child? Sir Tom suffered enough
at this moment to have expiated many sins. There came upon him a vision
of the child extended motionless upon his bed, and his mother by him
refusing to be comforted. What could it mean? The door looked as if hope
had departed. He knocked softly, yet imperatively, divided between the
horror of these thoughts and the gentle every-day sentiment which
forbade any noise at little Tom's door. It was some time before he got
any reply--a time which seemed to him interminable. Then he suddenly
heard Lucy's voice close to the door whispering. There had been no sound
of any footsteps. Had she been there all the time listening to all his
appeals and taking no notice?

"Open the door," he said anxiously. "Speak to me. What is the matter? Is
he ill? Have you sent for the doctor? Let me in."

"We are all shut up and settled for the night," said Lucy, through the
door.

"Shut up for the night? Has he been very ill?" Sir Tom cried.

"Oh, hush, you will wake him; no, not very ill: but I am going to stay
with him," said the voice inside with a quiver in it.

"Lucy, what does this mean? You are concealing something from me. Have
you had the doctor? Good God, tell me. What is the matter? Can't I see
my boy?"

"There is nothing--nothing to be alarmed about," said Lucy from within.
"He is asleep--he is--doing well. Oh! go to bed and don't mind us. I am
going to stay with him."

"Don't mind you? that is so easy," he cried, with a broken laugh; then
the silence stealing to