, 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."

Her voice was the merest whisper. He pressed his lips passionately to
the white face and rose up. Nurse and baby sat in state by the fire,
and a slender girl of fifteen years knelt beside them, and gazed in a
sort of rapture at the infant prodigy.

"Look, papa--look? The loveliest little thing, and nurse says the very
picture of you!"

Not very lovely, certainly; but Sir Jasper Kingsland's eyes lighted
with pride and joy as he looked. For was it not a boy? Had he not at
last, after weary, weary waiting, the desire of his heart--a son to
inherit the estate and perpetuate the ancient name?

"It is so sweet, papa!" Miss Mildred whispered, her small, rather
sickly face quite radiant; "and its eyes are the image of yours. He's
asleep now, you know, and you can't see them. And look at