hey read each other's
faces, these two, and smiled kinship.

"Your name is Lucy?"

She affirmed it softly.

"And mine is Austin, as you know."

Mrs. Berry allowed time for Lucy's charms to subdue him, and presented
Richard's representative, who, seeing a new face, suffered himself to be
contemplated before he commenced crying aloud and knocking at the doors
of Nature for something that was due to him.

"Ain't he a lusty darlin'?" says Mrs. Berry. "Ain't he like his own
father? There can't be no doubt about zoo, zoo pitty pet. Look at his
fists. Ain't he got passion? Ain't he a splendid roarer? Oh!" and she
went off rapturously into baby-language.

A fine boy, certainly. Mrs. Berry exhibited his legs for further proof,
desiring Austin's confirmation as to their being dumplings.

Lucy murmured a word of excuse, and bore the splendid roarer out of the
room.

"She might a done it here," said Mrs. Berry. "There's no prettier sight,
I say. If her dear husband could but see that! He's off in his
heroics--he want to be doin' all sorts o' things: I say he'll never do
anything grander than that baby. You should 'a seen her uncle over that
baby--he came here, for I said, you shall see your own family, my dear,
and so she thinks. He come, and he laughed over that baby in the joy of
his heart, poor man! he cried, he did. You should see that Mr. Thompson,
Mr. Wentworth--a friend o' Mr. Richard's, and a very modest-minded young
gentleman--he worships her in his innocence. It's a sight to see him with
that baby. My belief is he's unhappy 'cause he can't anyways be
nurse-maid to him. O Mr. Wentworth! what do you think of her, sir?"

Austin's reply was as satisfactory as a man's poor speech could make it.
He heard that Lady Feverel was in the house, and Mrs. Berry prepared the
way for him to pay his respects to her. Then Mrs. Berry ran to Lucy, and
the house buzzed with new life. The simple creatures felt in Austin's
presence something good among them. "He don't speak much," said Mrs.
Berry, "but I see by his eye he mean a deal. He ain't one o' yer
long-word gentry, who's all gay deceivers, every one of 'em."

Lucy pressed the hearty suckling into her breast. "I wonder what he
thinks of me, Mrs. Berry? I could not speak to him. I loved him before I
saw him. I knew what his face was like."

"He looks proper even with a beard, and that's a trial for a virtuous
man," said Mrs. Berry. "One sees straight through the hair with him