“He is the best child in the world; every one says so,” she returned.  “He is not the least—­Hey-day! what do you mean by contradicting mamma like that?  Behave yourself, sir.”

For the infant, as if to deny his goodness, set up a sudden cry.  Mr. Carr laughed.  He put down his finger again, and the little fingers clasped round it, and the cry ceased.

“He does not like to lose his friend, you see, Lady Hartledon.”

“I wish you would be my friend as well as his,” she rejoined; and the low meaning tones struck on Mr. Carr’s ear.

“I trust I am your friend,” he answered.

She was still for a few moments; her pale beautiful face inclining towards the child’s; her large dark eyes bent upon him.  She turned them on Mr. Carr.

“This has been a sad day.”

“Yes, for you.  It is grievous to lose a brother.”

“And to lose him without the opportunity of a last look, a last farewell.  Robert was my best and favourite brother.  But the day has been marked as unhappy for other causes than that.”

Was it an uncomfortable prevision of what was coming that caused Mr. Carr not to answer her?  He talked to the unconscious baby, and played with its cheeks.

“What secret is this that you and my husband have between you, Mr. Carr?” she asked abruptly.

He ceased his laughing with the baby, said something about its soft face, was altogether easy and careless in his manner, and then answered in half-jesting tones: 

“Which one, Lady Hartledon?”

“Which one!  Have you more than one?” she continued, taking the words literally.

“We might count up half-a-dozen, I daresay.  I cannot tell you how many things I have not confided to him.  We are quite—­”

“I mean the secret that affects him” she interrupted, in aggrieved tones, feeling that Mr. Carr was playing with her.

“There is some dread upon him that’s wearing him to a shadow, poisoning his happiness, making his days and nights one long restlessness.  Do you think it right to keep it from me, Mr. Carr?  Is it what you and he are both doing—­and are in league with each other to do?”

“I am not keeping any secret from you, Lady Hartledon.”

“You know you are.  Nonsense!  Do you think I have forgotten that evening that was the beginning of it, when a tall strange man dressed as a clergyman, came here, and you both were shut up with him for I can’t tell how long, and Lord Hartledon came out from it looking like a ghost?  You and he both misled me, causing me to believe that the Ashtons were entering an action against him for breach of promise; laying the damages at ten thousand pounds.  I mean that secret, Mr. Carr,” she added with emphasis.  “The same man was here on Friday night again; and when you came to the house afterwards, you and Lord Hartledon sat up until nearly daylight.”

Mr. Carr, who had his eyes on the exacting baby, shook his head, and intimated that he was really unable to understand her.