She wiped away the tears, and awe-struck and grave, followed the Colonel; a great contrast to Lord Keith’s more frequent lady-visitor, as she silently received the polished greeting, its peculiar stateliness of courtesy, enhanced by the feeble state of the shattered old man, unable to rise from his pillowed chair, and his face deeply lined by suffering.  He would not let her give him any account of her labours, nor refer any question to him, he only entreated that everything might be taken away, and that he might hear nothing about it.  He spoke warmly of Alick’s kindness and attention, and showed much solicitude about his indisposition, and at last he inquired for Rachel’s “little charge,” hoping he was not clamorous or obnoxious to her, or to Mr. Clare’s household.  Her eager description of his charms provoked a look of interest and a sad smile, followed by a request, that weather and doctor permitting, she would bring the child to be seen for a few minutes.  The next day there was an appointment, at which both the Colonel and Alick were wanted, but on the following one, the carriage should be sent to bring her and the little one to Timber End.

The effect of this invitation amused Alick.  The first thing he heard in the morning was a decided announcement from Rachel that she must go up to London to procure equipments for the baby to be presented in!

“You know I can’t go with you to-day.”

“Of course, but I must make him fit to be seen.  You know he has been wearing little Una’s things all this time, and that will not do out of the nursery.”

“A superior woman ought to know that his Lordship will never find out what his son has on.”

“Then it is all the more reason that I should not let the poor dear little fellow go about wrapped up in somebody’s old shawl!”

“What will you do then—­take your maid?”

“Certainly not.  I can’t have him left.”

“Then take him with you?”

“What, Alick, a little unvaccinated baby!  Where have you ever lived!  I don’t see the least reason why I should not go alone.”

“You need not begin beating about the world yet, Rachel.  How many times did you say you had been in London?”

“Three; once with my father when I was a child, once in the time of the Great Exhibition, and passing through it now with you.  But any one of common sense can manage.”

“If you will wait till tive o’clock I will come with you,” said Alick, wearily.

“No, indeed, I had rather not go, than that you should, you are quite tired out enough at the end of the day.”

“Then do not go.”

“Alick, why will you have no proper feeling for that poor dear child!” said Rachel with tears in her eyes.

If he winced he did not show it.  “My proper feeling takes the direction of my wife,” he said.

“You don’t really mean to forbid me to go,” she exclaimed.

“I don’t mean it, for I do so, unless you find some one to go with you.”