Her beauty and aristocratic air made her an object of great curiosity in Wintertown, and, of course, the women were all against her, and felt sure that her seclusion was the cover for some disgraceful secret; but what did all this matter to her? She believed that she was doing right at the sacrifice of all her earthly happiness, and when her heart yearned with a great yearning toward her husband, she knelt down and prayed wildly not to be delivered into temptation, but to have strength to endure even to the end. One night, just as the earth was beginning to grow green again, and primrose and violets were sweetening the hedgerows, Lady Gwendolyn, only half-conscious still, came stupefied out of her hour of anguish to find a little face nestling against her bosom, and to hear with deep thankfulness that a man child was born into the world, and born to her. Coming back to life herself from the very edge of the grave, the joy of maternity swallowed up the recollection of past peril, and she thrilled through her whole being as she pressed her white lips to the soft, wrinkled cheek. “I never saw a bonnier babe, ma’am,” said the nurse cheerfully. “How proud his poor pa would be of him if he could see him.” Lady Gwendolyn shivered, and her joy was poisoned in a moment. This child belonged to her husband as well as to herself, and how could she ever look at it without being reminded of the saddest page in her life--of the wrong and treachery that had made her future a blank. The boy had his father’s deep blue eyes, and when they began to open fuller, Lady Gwendolyn had a strange fancy that they reproached her, and would turn uneasily away. Was it possible that she had been too hasty? She had, of course, done right to leave Sir Lawrence, but she might have written and explained her motives, and given him a chance of excusing himself, for her own sake. In trying to punish him, she had left herself without any comfort, and the position was irretrievable now, since, if she showed any signs of relenting, he would imagine that she was ready to condone the past, and live with him, anyhow, rather than not live with him at all. The boy was a month old before Lady Gwendolyn began to recover her strength, and, meanwhile, her expenses were very large. Doctors and nurses cost money, and the young mother’s extreme delicacy made economy out of the question for the present. Then, in her maternal pride, she was apt to forget that Master Lawrence was not heir to Milworth Abbey and Borton Hall, and indulged in extravagances her income would not stand. Keeping no accounts, she did not realize, indeed, what she was spending, and was horrified one day, when, in looking in what she called her reserve purse, she found that it only contained five pounds.