that there was no chance of its recovery. A letter containing the sad
news was on a table, which he, the husband, took the liberty to open
and read. After some reflection, suggested by what he had heard of the
lady-mother's state of mind, he recopied the letter, for the sake of
embodying in it a certain suggestion. That letter was duly posted, and
the next day brought the rich man almost in a state of distraction;
but his chief and mastering terror was lest the mother of the already
dead infant should hear, in her then precarious state, of what had
happened. The tidings, he was sure, would kill her. Seeing this, the
cunning husband of the nurse suggested that, for the present, his--the
cunning one's--child might be taken to the lady as her own, and that
the truth could be revealed when she was strong enough to bear it. The
rich man fell into the artful trap, and that which the husband of the
nurse had speculated upon, came to pass even beyond his hopes. The
lady grew to idolise her fancied child--she has, fortunately, had no
other--and now, I think, it would really kill her to part with him.
The rich man could not find it in his heart to undeceive his
wife--every year it became more difficult, more impossible to do so;
and very generously, I must say, has he paid in purse for the
forbearance of the nurse's husband. Well now, then, to sum up: the
nurse was Mrs Danby; the rich, weak husband, Mr Arbuthnot; the
substituted child, that handsome boy--_my son!_'

A wild scream from Mrs Arbuthnot broke the dread silence which had
accompanied this frightful revelation, echoed by an agonised cry, half
tenderness, half rage, from her husband, who had entered the room
unobserved, and now clasped her passionately in his arms. The
carriage-wheels we had heard were his. It was long before I could
recall with calmness the tumult, terror, and confusion of that scene.
Mr Arbuthnot strove to bear his wife from the apartment, but she would
not be forced away, and kept imploring with frenzied vehemence that
Robert--that her boy should not be taken from her.

'I have no wish to do so--far from it,' said Danby with gleeful
exultation. 'Only folk must be reasonable, and not threaten their
friends with the hulks'----

'Give him anything, anything!' broke in the unhappy lady. 'O Robert!
Robert!' she added with a renewed burst of hysterical grief, 'how
could you deceive me so?'

'I have been punished, Agnes,' he answered in a husky, broken