It was some time during the latter part of January that the new life came to Chateau d’Or, and Madame Verwest telegraphed to Haverleigh, ‘You have a son.’ It was a big, healthy-looking boy, with great blue eyes, and soft curly hair like Anna’s, but otherwise it was like its father, ‘all Haverleigh,’ Madame Verwest said, as she hugged the little creature to her, and, amid a rain of tears, whispered something over it which Anna could not understand. Was it a blessing, or a prayer that this new-born child might be kept from the path of sin trodden by another child which once had lain on her bosom, as soft and helpless and innocent as this, with the Haverleigh look on its face. Nobody could tell what she thought or felt, but from the moment the first infant wail echoed through the dreary house, Madame Verwest took the little one into her love and heart, and seemed to care for it far more, even, than the mother herself, for at first Anna shrank from the child so like its father, and felt better when it was not in her sight. But with returning health and strength there came a change; the mother love had asserted itself, and Anna was much happier than she had been before the little life came to claim her care. But for her husband there was no tenderness, no love—only a growing disgust and antipathy to him, and an increased dread of his visits, which were more frequent than formerly. He was very proud of his boy—Arthur he called him—though there had been no formal christening, because there was in the neighborhood no Protestant priest. But Haverleigh meant to bring one down with him from Paris and have a grand christening party, and when Eugenie proposed visiting the chateau, he decided to have it while she was there, and to persuade her to stand as god-mother. So a box of elegant dresses, both for Anna and the child, was forwarded to the chateau, with the intelligence that Madame Arschinard would follow in a few days, together with a Protestant clergyman, who was traveling for his health, and whose acquaintance Haverleigh had accidentally made at a hotel. The prospect of seeing Eugenie again, and hearing from her whether she had ever written to America, and with what result, was a delightful one to Anna, who had never been so lovely even in her girlish days as she was that afternoon in early April, when, with her baby in her arms, she stood waiting the arrival of the train which was to bring the expected party from Paris. She had never heard of Fanny Shader, and naturally supposed that Elise would accompany Eugenie, as she did before.