ours of sleep that she allowed herself. If she
exceeded them, there were unfailing dreams of Arthur and his child.

She thought of another cure. There was another kind of affection, not
half so valuable in her eyes as fraternal love; it made fools of people,
but then they were happy in their blindness, and could keep it to
themselves. She would condescend to lay herself open to the infection.
It would be satisfying if she could catch it. She examined each of her
followers in turn, but each fell short of her standard, and was repelled
just as his hopes had been excited. One 'Hollo, Theodora, come along,'
would have been worth all the court paid to her by men, to some of whom
Arthur could have ill borne a comparison.

CHAPTER 6

Thy precious things, whate'er they be,
That haunt and vex thee, heart and brain,
Look to the Cross, and thou shall see
How thou mayst turn them all to gain.
--Christian Year

All went well and smoothly at Ventnor, until a sudden and severe attack
of some baby ailment threatened to render fruitless all Mr. Martindale's
kind cares.

Violet's misery was extreme, though silent and unobtrusive, and John was
surprised to find how much he shared it, and how strong his own personal
affection had become for his little nephew; how many hopes he had built
on him as the point of interest for his future life; the circumstances
also of the baptism giving him a tenderness for him, almost a right in
him such as he could feel in no other child.

Their anxiety did not last long enough for Arthur to be sent for; a
favourable change soon revived the mother's hopes; and the doctor, on
coming down-stairs after his evening's visit, told John that the child
was out of danger for the present; but added that he feared there were
many more such trials in store for poor Mrs. Martindale; he thought
the infant unusually delicate, and feared that it would hardly struggle
through the first year.

John was much shocked, and sat in the solitary drawing-room, thinking
over the disappointment and loss, severely felt for his own sake, and
far more for the poor young mother, threatened with so grievous a
trial at an age when sorrow is usually scarcely known, and when she had
well-nigh sunk under the ordinary wear and tear of married life. She
had been so utterly cast down and wretched at the sight of the child's
suffering, that it was fearful to imagine what it would