He threw himself back against the sofa, with a little laugh that was musical in Letty's ear. It was the first time that Lady Maxwell's name had been mentioned between them in this trivial, ordinary way. The young wife sat alert and straight at her work, her cheek still pink, her eyes bright. But after a silence, George suddenly sprang up to pace the little room, and she heard him say, under his breath, "_But who am I, that I should be coercing them and trampling on them!--men old enough to be my father--driving them down to-morrow--while I sleep--for a dog's wage!_" "George, what is the matter with you?" she cried, looking at him in real anxiety. "Nothing! _nothing!_--Darling, who's ill? I saw the old doctor on the road home, and he threw me a word as he passed about having been here--looked quite jolly over it. What's wrong--one of the servants?" Letty put down her work upon her knee and her hands upon it. She grew red and pale; then she turned away from him, pressing her face into the back of her chair. He flew to her, and she murmured in his ear. * * * * * What she said was by no means all sweetness. There was mingled with it much terror and some anger. Letty was not one of the women who take maternity as a matter of course. But emotion and natural feeling had their way. George was dissolved in joy. He threw himself at her feet, resting his head against her knee. "If he doesn't have your eyes and hair I'll disinherit him," he said, with a gaiety which seemed to have effaced all his fatigue. "I don't want him," was her pettish reply; "but if _she_ has your chin, I'll put her out to nurse. Oh! how I hate the thought of it!" and she shuddered. He caught her hand, comforting her. Then, putting up both his own, he drew her down to him. "After all, little woman, it hasn't turned out so badly?" he said in her ear, with sad appeal. Their lips met, trembling. Suddenly Letty broke into passionate weeping. George sprang up, gathered her upon his knee, and they sat for long, in silence, clinging to each other. At last Letty drew back from him, pushing a hand against his shoulder. "You know--you didn't care a bit for me--when you married me," she said, half bitter, half crying. "Didn't I? And you?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "Oh! I don't remember!" she said hurriedly, and dropped her face on his coat again. "Well, we are going to care for each other," he said in a low voice, after a pause. "That's what matters now, isn't it?"