I reflected that all this was very possibly only a part of the general tragedy of Miss Ambient’s view of things; but I asked her why she had n’t urged such a necessity upon her sister-in-law. She answered me with a smile of extraordinary significance, and told me that I must have very little idea of what her relations with Beatrice were; but I must do her the justice to add that she went on to make herself a little more comprehensible by saying that it was quite reason enough for her sister not to be alarmed that Mark would be sure to be. He was always nervous about the child, and as they were predestined by nature to take opposite views, the only thing for Beatrice was to cultivate a false optimism. If Mark were not there, she would not be at all easy. I remembered what he had said to me about their dealings with Dolcino,--that between them they would put an end to him; but I did not repeat this to Miss Ambient: the less so that just then her brother emerged from the house, carrying his child in his arms. Close behind him moved his wife, grave and pale; the boy’s face was turned over Ambient’s shoulder, towards his mother. We got up to receive the group, and as they came near us Dolcino turned round. I caught, on his enchanting little countenance, a smile of recognition, and for the moment would have been quite content with it. Miss Ambient, however, received another impression, and I make haste to say that her quick sensibility, in which there was something maternal, argues that, in spite of her affectations, there was a strain of kindness in her. “It won’t do at all--it won’t do at all,” she said to me under her breath. “I shall speak to Mark about the doctor.” The child was rather white, but the main difference I saw in him was that he was even more beautiful than the day before. He had been dressed in his festal garments,--a velvet suit and a crimson sash,--and he looked like a little invalid prince, too young to know condescension, and smiling familiarly on his subjects. “Put him down, Mark, he’s not comfortable,” Mrs. Ambient said. “Should you like to stand on your feet, my boy?” his father asked. “Oh, yes; I ‘m remarkably well,” said the child. Mark placed him on the ground; he had shining, pointed slippers, with enormous bows. “Are you happy now, Mr. Ambient?”