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Page 2
It is a very fine thing to be a baronet--a Kingsland of Kingsland, with
fifteen thousand a year, and the finest old house in the county; but if
Death will stalk grimly over your threshold and snatch away the life
you love more than your own, then even that glory is not omniscient.
For this wintery midnight, while Sir Jasper Kingsland walks moodily up
and down--up and down--Lady Kingsland, in the chamber above, lies ill
unto death.
An hour passes--the clock in the turret and the buhl toy on the stone
mantel toll solemnly one. The embers drop monotonously through the
grate--a dog bays deeply somewhere in the quadrangle below--the wailing
wind of coming morning sighs lamentingly through the tossing
copper-beeches, and the roar of the surf afar off comes ever and anon
like distant thunder. The house is silent as the tomb--so horribly
silent that the cold drops start out on the face of the tortured man.
Who knows? Death has been on the threshold of that upper chamber all
night, waiting for his prey. This awful hush may be the paean that
proclaims that he is master!
A tap at the door. The baronet paused in his stride and turned his
bloodshot eyes that way. His very voice was hollow and unnatural as he
said:
"Come in."
A servant entered--the same who had gone his errand.
"The Reverend Cyrus Green is here, sir. Shall I show him up?"
"Yes--no--I cannot see him. Show him into the drawing-room until he is
needed."
"He will not be needed," said a voice at his elbow, and Doctor Parker
Godroy came briskly forward. "My dear Sir Jasper, allow me to
congratulate you! All is well, thank Heaven, and--it is a son!"
Sir Jasper Kingsland sunk into a seat, thrilling from head to foot,
turning sick and faint in the sudden revulsion from despair to hope.
"Saved?" he said, in a gasping whisper. "_Both_?"
"Both, my dear Sir Jasper!" the doctor responded, cordially. "Your
good lady is very much prostrated--exhausted--but that was to be looked
for, you know; and the baby--ah! the finest boy I have had the pleasure
of presenting to an admiring world within ten years. Come and see
them!"
"May I?" the baronet cried, starting to his feet.
"Certainly, my dear Sir Jasper--most certainly. There is nothing in
the world to hinder--only be a little cautious, you know. Our good
lady must be kept composed and quiet, and left to sleep; and you will
just take one peep and go. We won't need the Reverend Cyrus."
He led the way from the library, rubbing his hands as your brisk little
physicians do, up a grand stair-way where you might have driven a coach
and four, and into a lofty and most magnificently furnished bed-chamber.
"Quiet, now--quiet," the doctor whispered, warningly. "Excite her, and
I won't be answerable for the result."
Sir Jasper Kingsland replied with a rapid gesture, and walked forward
to the bed. His own face was perfectly colorless, and his lips were
twitching with intense suppressed feeling. He bent above the still
form.
"Olivia," he said, "my darling, my darling!"
The heavy eyelids fluttered and lifted, and a pair of haggard, dark
eyes gazed up at him. A wan smile parted those pallid lips.
"Dear Jasper! I knew you would come. Have you seen the baby? It is a
boy."
"My own, I have thought only of you. My poor pale wife, how awfully
death-like you look!"
"But I am not going to die--Doctor Godroy says so," smiling gently.
"And now you must go, for I cannot talk. Only kiss me first, and look
at the baby."
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