"He was so splendid," Denzil said, "unselfish to the very end," and then he described to Amaryllis how he actually had died, and of his last words, and their thought for her. "If he could see us, I think that he would be glad that we are happy." "I know that he would," but the tears had gathered in her eyes. Denzil stroked her hand gently; he did not make any lover's caress, and she appreciated his understanding, and after a little she leaned against his arm. "Denzil--when we live here together, we must always try to carry out all that John would have wished to do. It meant his very soul--and you will help me to be a worthy mother of the Ardayre son." She had not spoken of the child before--some unaccountable shyness had restrained her, even in their fondest moments. And yet the thought had never been absent from either. It had throbbed there in their hearts. It was going to be so exquisite to whisper about it presently! And Denzil had waited until she mentioned this dear interest. He did not wish to assume any rights, or take anything for granted. She should be queen, not only of his heart, but of everything, until she should herself accord him authority. But his eyes grew wistful now as he leaned nearer to her. "Darling, am I not going to be allowed to see--my son!" Then, with a cry, Amaryllis bent forward and was clasped in his arms. All her wayward shyness melted, and she poured forth her delight in the baby--their very own! "You will see that he is just you, Denzil,--as we knew that he would be, and now I will go and fetch him for you and bring him here, because the stairs up to the nursery are so steep they might hurt you to climb." She left him swiftly, and was not long gone, and Denzil sat there by the fire trembling with an emotion which he could not have described in words. The door opened again and Amaryllis returned with the tiny sleeping form, in its long white nightgown and wrapped in a great fleecy shawl. She crept up to him very softly. The little one was sound asleep. She made a sign to Denzil not to rise, and she bent down and placed the bundle tenderly in his arms. Then they gazed at the little face together with worshipping eyes. It was just a round pink and white cherub like thousands of others in the world; the very long eyelashes, sweeping the sleep-flushed cheeks, and minute rings of bronze-gold hair curling over the edge of the close cambric cap; but it seemed to those two looking at it to be unique, and more beautiful than the dawn. "Isn't he perfect, Denzil!" whispered Amaryllis, in ecstasy. "Marvellous!" and Denzil's voice was awed. Then the wonder and the divinity of love and its spirit of creation came over them both and a mist of deep feeling grew in both their eyes. * * * * *