When he went to bed, a couple of hours later, Lydia was lying quietly with closed eyes, and he did not disturb her; but afterward he woke out of a sound sleep and sat up with a sense that something was wrong. He listened. There was not a sound in the room or in the house. Apparently Lydia was not wakened by his startled movement. She lay in a profound immobility. But something about her very motionlessness struck a chill to his heart. Women in her condition sometimes had seizures in the night, he had heard. With a shaking hand, he struck a match and leaned over her. He gave a loud, shocked exclamation to see that her eyes were open, steady and fixed, like wide, dark pools. He threw the match away, and took her in his arms with a fond murmur of endearments. "Why, poor little girl! Do you lie awake and worry about what's to come?" Lydia drew a painful breath. "Yes," she said; "I worry a great deal about what's to come." He kissed her gently, ardently, gently again. "You mustn't do that, darling! You're all right! Melton said there wasn't one chance in a thousand of anything but just the most temporary illness, without any complications. It won't be so bad--it'll be soon over, and think what it means to us--dearest--dearest--dearest!" Lydia lay quiet in his arms. She had been still so long that he thought her asleep, when she said, in a whisper: "I hope it won't be a girl!" CHAPTER XIX LYDIA'S NEW MOTTO Lydia's two or three big receptions, of which her mother had spoken with so casual a confidence, came off, while not exactly with nonchalant ease, still, on the whole, creditably. It is true that Dr. Melton had stormed at Lydia one sunny day in spring, finding her bent over her desk, addressing invitations. "It's April, child!" he cried, "April! The crocuses are out and the violets are almost here--and, what is more important, your day of trial gets closer with every tick of the clock. Come outdoors and take a walk with me." "Oh, I can't!" Lydia was aghast at the idea, looking at a mountain of envelopes before her. "Here! I'll help you finish those, and then we'll--" "No, no, _no_!" In Lydia's negation was a touch of the irritation that was often during these days in her attitude toward her godfather. "I can't! Please don't tease me to! The curtains to the spare room have to be put up, and the bed draperies somehow fixed. A stray dog got in there when he was wet and muddy and went to sleep on my best lace bedspread." Dr. Melton had not practiced for years among Endbury ladies without having some knowledge of them and a corresponding readiness of mind in meeting the difficulties they declared insurmountable. "I'll buy you a white marseilles bedspread on our way back from the walk," he offered gravely. "Oh, I've got plenty of plain white ones," she admitted incautiously, "but they don't go with the scheme of the room--and the first reception's only two days off."