eemed to Noel, in
spite of his inexperience, that the child lay more in a state of stupor
than sleep, and that its prostration argued the very lowest degree of
vitality, but Christine seemed satisfied when he was asleep and so Noel
made no comment.

During the sitting that day he asked Christine if he would prove himself
a nuisance to either her or her husband if he sometimes called in the
evening. To the first part of the inquiry she replied that she would be
glad to see him, and to the latter, with a sort of hopeless wonder,
that Mr. Dallas would not mind.

Noel went once, and once only. The visit was too painful to himself, and
he felt also to Christine, to be repeated. The hideous barrenness of the
place seemed an outrage to her delicacy and made the refinement of her
beauty seem cruelly out of place. But more than all, when Noel looked on
the untidy negligence and brutal insensibility of the man who was at
liberty to call her wife, and whom she acknowledged as husband, he felt
it unbearable. He was even worse than he remembered him. Formerly he
had, at least, dressed well and kept up the forms of civility. Noel
could imagine that he was now glad to be rid of the trouble. He did not
even care to be particular about his person since he was now in a
position where that bother could be dispensed with.

As soon as Noel began to talk to Christine Dallas filled his pipe and
went off to the table to play solitaire. Noel fancied that the smell of
the rank tobacco, which was unimproved in quality, made the poor girl
sick. It was a relief when Dallas got up after a while, and shoving the
cards together in a heap left the room. Then Noel inquired for the baby.
Somehow he always shrank from speaking of it before Dallas.

"He is asleep up-stairs. Eliza is with him: He is better," said
Christine, "but the doctor says there is no certainty until the hot
weather is over. Oh, it's selfish of me to want him to live," she added,
with a sudden agitation in her voice, "but it isn't that; it isn't life
I want for him--only to keep him with me--to be where he is. If I
could--"

She broke off huskily, and Noel, out of pity for her, got up and walked
to the other end of the little room. When he got back she had recovered,
and said with a smile:

"I am out of patience with myself for being gloomy now. You will think
me such a poor coward. The baby is better and I will try to be bright.
I said in my prayers to God that if He would let