Part 43 (1/2)
”I kept my promise,” she replied, quietly; ”the fretting and the mischief were done before. We will not talk about my illness; it is too bad even to think of it. Have you nothing else to say to me, Hugh?
do you not wish to see our boy?”
Hugh started, conscience-stricken--he had forgotten his child altogether; and then he laughed off his confusion.
”Our boy! what an important Wee Wifie. Yes, show him to me by all means. Do you mean you have got him under that shawl?”
”Yes; is he not good?” returned Fay, proudly; she had forgotten Hugh's coldness now, as she drew back the flimsy covering and showed him the tiny fair face within her arms. ”There, is he not a beauty? Nurse says she has never seen a finer baby boy for his size. He is small now, but he will grow; he has such long feet and hands that, she a.s.sures me, he will be a tall man. Mrs. Heron says he is a thorough Redmond. Look at his hair like floss silk, only finer; and he has your forehead, dear, and your eyes. Oh, he will be just like his father, the darling!”
”Will he?” returned Hugh, dubiously, and he touched him rather awkwardly--he had never noticed a baby closely before, and he was not much impressed with his son's appearance; there was such a redness, he thought, and no features to be called features, and he had such a ridiculous b.u.t.ton of a mouth. ”Do you really call him a fine baby, Fay?”
”Fine! I should think so; the smallness does not matter a bit. You will be a big man some time, my beauty, for you are the very image of your father.”
”Heaven forbid!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Hugh; he was quite appalled at the notion of any likeness between this absurd specimen of humanity and himself; but happily the little mother did not hear him, for she was adjusting the long robe to her liking.
”There, you must take him, Hugh; I want to see him once more in your arms--my two treasures together;” and she held the baby to him.
Hugh did not see how the weak arms trembled under their load, as he retreated a few steps in most genuine alarm.
”I take him! My dear, I never held a baby in my life; I should be afraid of dropping him; no, let him stop with his mother. Women understand these sort of things. There, now, I thought so, he is going to cry;” and Hugh's discomfited look was not lost on Fay, as the baby's shrill voice spoke well for his strength of lungs.
”Oh, hush, hush,” she said, nearly crying herself, and rocking the baby to and fro feebly. ”You spoke so loudly, Hugh, you frightened him; he never cries so when we are alone.”
”You will be alone directly if you do not send him away,” was her husband's impatient answer; ”it is not pleasant for a man to be deafened when he is tired after a long journey. Why, I do believe you are going to cry too, Fay; what is the good of a nurse if you exhaust yourself like this?” And he pulled the bell-rope angrily.
”Oh, please don't send my baby away,” she implored, in quite a piteous voice; ”he is always with me now, and so good and quiet, only you startled him so.”
”Nonsense,” he returned, decidedly; ”your illness has made you fanciful; surely I must know best what is good for my wife. Nurse, why do you allow Lady Redmond to wear herself out with a crying child? it can not be right in her weak state.”
Fay gave up her baby without a word; she was too gentle to remonstrate, but if he could have read her thoughts. ”He does not care for his child at all,” she was saying bitterly to herself; and then she was very quiet, and s.h.i.+elded her face with one hand. Sir Hugh was rather uncomfortable; he knew he had been out of temper, and that he was disappointing Fay, but he never guessed the stab that he had inflicted when he had refused to take their boy in his arms.
”Well, Fay,” he said, in rather a deprecating manner, ”I meant to have had a little talk with you, now that noisy fellow is gone; but you seem sleepy, dear; shall I leave you to rest now, and come up again after dinner?”
Fay uncovered her eyes and looked at him rather oddly, he thought, but she made no answer. Hugh rose and looked at his watch, and repeated his question.
”No,” she said, very slowly; ”do not trouble to come up again, Hugh. I can not talk to you to-night; I shall be better quiet.”
”There, I told you so,” he cried, triumphantly. ”I knew that little rascal had tired you.”
”My baby never tires me,” she answered, wearily, and closed her eyes.
Oh, if she could only close them forever! But then she remembered how terrible death had seemed to her in her illness--a pit of infinite pain.
Hugh looked at her a little puzzled; his Wee Wifie was very much altered, he thought; and then he kissed her two or three times with some affection, and went to his dressing-room.
But when she heard him go down-stairs she rang for the nurse to bring back her baby directly. The woman did not like her excited look, or the fierce way she almost s.n.a.t.c.hed him to her bosom.
”You had much better try and get a little sleep, my lady,” she said, kindly; but Fay only shook her head. It was not bed-time yet, she said, but she would like to be quiet with her baby for a little. And when nurse had gone to have a chat with Janet, she tottered from the couch, and knelt down beside it, and laid her helpless arms about her baby's neck, and wetted the white robe with her tears.
”It is all over, baby,” she moaned; ”he does not care for you or for me either--he only wants Margaret; but you must love your mother, baby, and grow up and comfort her, for she has no one but you to love her in the whole wide world.”