"How very fortunate," returned Ada "of course he will take charge of the baby, I confess I was in a quandary for I do not relish the idea of having the care of it, poor little thing." "Nor I either, but I am not so sure that he will take it, it is much more likely he has come to row me about the whole affair." "You! Why, what had you to do with it?" "No more than you had; but I must see him at once, I suppose." "Shall I go, too?" asked Ada, timidly. "Not at present: if there is to be a storm, I do not see why you should be in it." "He is such a dreadful old man, is he not?" "Not usually; he was always very, very kind to Arthur." "Not to his wife," she replied, vainly endeavoring to repress her tears. "No, very cruel; but you must not grieve so much about it, dearest Ada." "I cannot help it, it is so terribly shocking." "But it is past, now: she is at rest, she is happy; even her lifeless remains look calm--the weary, weary look exchanged for one of peace." "True, but it is so dreadful; if we had only known before," she sobbed. "I wish we had, with all my soul," returned Charles, "but you really must not distress yourself so, or I shall have to keep the poor old gent waiting." "Go to him, Charley; I shall feel better presently." He found his Lordship impatiently pacing the room. "I am seeking my daughter-in-law; she is here, I believe," he said, after the first salutations were over. "She is here," Charles answered gravely, "at least her remains; she died last night." "Dead! dead!" repeated Lord Barrington, putting his hand to his head. "Then I have nothing left." "But the child," interposed Charles. "The child--what child?" "The babe born last night." "He did not heed the answer, but seemed overpowered by the news of Louisa's death. "Let me see Arthur's wife," he said, after a few minutes had elapsed. Charles conducted him to the darkened apartment, where he gazed in agony upon the worn, but calm features of poor Louisa. And as he thought of his harshness, and Arthur's words, "make not her coming alone harder by one word or look," his grief became so violent and excessive that Charles was quite nonplussed, and went to consult Ada as to what should be done. In accordance with their plan, Ada took the frail little piece of humanity, and, approaching Lord Barrington, as he bent in sorrow over the corpse, said softly, "You have lost Arthur, and Arthur's wife, but you still have Arthur's child," and she laid the babe in his arms. His tears fell on its tiny face, but the sight of it, and its helplessness, did him good. "Oh, Arthur! Arthur!" he moaned, why did you doubt your old father? how would I have welcomed your wife if you had brought her home at first! aye, as I now welcome this child--Arthur's child," he added, looking at it fondly.