“Our joy was increased tenfold when, a little before our first anniversary, a bright, handsome boy was born to us.” Again Mrs. Mapleson started and shot another glance at Geoffrey. “That explains it all,” she murmured. “Yes, Estelle,” replied her husband, who caught the words, “that explains why this young man resembles Everet to such a wonderful degree. They are both thorough Maplesons. My wife,” he continued, a sudden pallor nettling over his face, and speaking now with visible effort, “began to recuperate almost immediately after his birth, her color and strength returned, her spirits seemed as light as air, and she was as happy as the day was long, in the possession of her new treasure, while she was the most devoted little mother imaginable. She named her baby, herself. ‘Geoffrey Dale Mapleson,’ she said he was to be called, ‘only we shall have to drop the Mapleson for a while, I suppose—only a little while longer, Will,’ she pleaded, as she twined her arms about my neck and drew my head down close to the little one lying beside her. “‘My darling,’ I told her, ‘in six months, at the farthest, you shall go back home as Mrs. William Mapleson. We will call it our real wedding journey. Estelle shall have her money, then we will come back here for a few years longer, after which, if all continues to go well, we shall have no cause to regret Jabez Mapleson’s fortune.’ “I shall never forget the look of joy on her face when I made that promise, and all during the evening she was as gay as a child, and more lovely than I had ever seen her. The next morning I was obliged to leave her for a couple of days. I had to go to the other mines, then to Santa Fe to make a deposit. My darling clung to me as I bade her good-by. Our boy was just two days old then. “‘My Will, my Will, somehow I cannot bear to let you go this time, even for a day, and two will seem an age!’ she said, as she kissed me again and again. Then she laughed at her own childishness, told me playfully, though with tears in her eyes, to begone before she repeated her folly.” A groan burst from the lips of the narrator at this point, and it seemed as if he would not be able to go on. Mr. Huntress and Geoffrey both shifted their position, for they could not bear to look upon his agonized face as he thus laid bare this sacred page of his heart. Mrs. Mapleson buried her face in her handkerchief, while every now and then a shudder ran through her frame.