Part 11 (2/2)

”Was a beauty, Mrs. M.,--was a beauty. People alter.”

”A bad conscience, Mr. Morton, is--”

”My dear, can't you walk faster?”

”If you had my corns, Mr. Morton, you would not talk in that way!”

The happy pair sank into silence, only broken by sundry ”How d'ye dos?”

and ”Good mornings!” interchanged with their friends, till they arrived at the inn.

”Let us go up quickly,” said Mrs. Morton.

And quiet--quiet to gloom, did the inn, so noisy overnight, seem by morning. The shutters partially closed to keep out the sun--the taproom deserted--the pa.s.sage smelling of stale smoke--an elderly dog, lazily snapping at the flies, at the foot of the staircase--not a soul to be seen at the bar. The husband and wife, glad to be un.o.bserved, crept on tiptoe up the stairs, and entered Catherine's apartment.

Catherine was seated on the sofa, and Sidney-dressed, like Mrs. Roger Morton, to look his prettiest, nor yet aware of the change that awaited his destiny, but pleased at the excitement of seeing new friends, as handsome children sure of praise and petting usually are--stood by her side.

”My wife--Catherine,” said Mr. Morton. Catherine rose eagerly, and gazed searchingly on her sister-in-law's hard face. She swallowed the convulsive rising at her heart as she gazed, and stretched out both her hands, not so much to welcome as to plead. Mrs. Roger Morton drew herself up, and then dropped a courtesy--it was an involuntary piece of good breeding--it was extorted by the n.o.ble countenance, the matronly mien of Catherine, different from what she had antic.i.p.ated--she dropped the courtesy, and Catherine took her hand and pressed it.

”This is my son;” she turned away her head. Sidney advanced towards his protectress who was to be, and Mrs. Roger muttered:

”Come here, my dear! A fine little boy!”

”As fine a child as ever I saw!” said Mr. Morton, heartily, as he took Sidney on his lap, and stroked down his, golden hair.

This displeased Mrs. Roger Morton, but she sat herself down, and said it was ”very warm.”

”Now go to that lady, my dear,” said Mr. Morton. ”Is she not a very nice lady?--don't you think you shall like her very much?”

Sidney, the best-mannered child in the world, went boldly up to Mrs.

Morton, as he was bid. Mrs. Morton was embarra.s.sed. Some folks are so with other folk's children: a child either removes all constraint from a party, or it increases the constraint tenfold. Mrs. Morton, however, forced a smile, and said, ”I have a little boy at home about your age.”

”Have you?” exclaimed Catherine, eagerly; and as if that confession made them friends at once, she drew a chair close to her sister-in-law's,--”My brother has told you all?”

”Yes, ma'am.”

”And I shall stay here--in the town somewhere--and see him sometimes?”

Mrs. Roger Morton glanced at her husband--her husband glanced at the door--and Catherine's quick eye turned from one to the other.

”Mr. Morton will explain, ma' am,” said the wife.

”E-hem!--Catherine, my dear, I am afraid that is out of the question,”

began Mr. Morton, who, when fairly put to it, could be business-like enough. ”You see bygones are bygones, and it is no use raking them up.

But many people in the town will recollect you.”

”No one will see me--no one, but you and Sidney.”

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