We are too late to find the post-office open.  I shall send ashore for letters the first thing tomorrow morning.  My next movements will depend entirely on the news I get from St. Germain.  If I remain for any length of time in these regions, I shall give my crew the holiday they have well earned at Civita Vecchia.  I am never weary of Rome—­but I always did, and always shall, dislike Naples.

May 11—.  My plans are completely changed.  I am annoyed and angry; the further I get away from France, the better I shall be pleased.

I have heard from Stella, and heard from the maid.  Both letters inform me that the child is born, and that it is a boy.  Do they expect me to feel any interest in the boy?  He is my worst enemy before he is out of his long-clothes.

Stella writes kindly enough.  Not a line in her letter, however, invites me, or holds out the prospect of inviting me, to St. Germain.  She refers to her mother very briefly, merely informing me that Mrs. Eyrecourt is well, and is already enjoying the gayeties of Paris.  Three-fourths of the letter are occupied with the baby.  When I wrote to her I signed myself “yours affectionately.”  Stella signs “yours sincerely.”  It is a trifle, I daresay—­but I feel it, for all that.

Matilda is faithful to her engagement; Matilda’s letter tells me the truth.

“Since the birth of the baby,” she writes, “Mrs. Romayne has never once mentioned your name; she can talk of nothing, and think of nothing, but her child.  I make every allowance, I hope, for a lady in her melancholy situation.  But I do think it is not very grateful to have quite forgotten Mr. Winterfield, who has done so much for her, and who only asks to pass a few hours of his day innocently in her society.  Perhaps, being a single woman, I write ignorantly about mothers and babies.  But I have my feelings; and (though I never liked Mr. Romayne) I feel for you, sir—­if you will forgive the familiarity.  In my opinion this new craze about the baby will wear out.  He is already a cause of difference of opinion.  My good mistress, who possesses knowledge of the world, and a kind heart as well, advises that Mr. Romayne should be informed of the birth of a son and heir.  Mrs. Eyrecourt says, most truly, that the hateful old priest will get possession of Mr. Romayne’s property, to the prejudice of the child, unless steps are taken to shame him into doing justice to his own son.  But Mrs. Romayne is as proud as Lucifer; she will not hear of making the first advances, as she calls it.  ’The man who has deserted me,’ she says, ’has no heart to be touched either by wife or child.’  My mistress does not agree with her.  There have been hard words already, and the nice old French gentleman and his wife try to make peace.  You will smile when I tell you that they offer sugar-plums as a sort of composing gift.  My mistress accepts the gift, and has been to the theater at Paris, with Monsieur and Madame Villeray more than once already.  To conclude, sir, if I might venture to advise you, I should recommend trying the effect on Mrs. R. of absence and silence.”