Beneath a tapering ash-tree's shade Three graves are by each other laid. Around the very place doth brood A strange and holy quietude. --BAPTISTERY

Late on the afternoon of the 6th of March, Mary Ross entered by the half-opened front door at Hollywell, just as Charles appeared slowly descending the stairs.

'Well! how is she?' asked Mary eagerly.

'Poor little dear!' he answered, with a sigh; 'she looks very nice and comfortable.'

'What, you have seen her?'

'I am at this moment leaving her room.'

'She is going on well, I hope?'

'Perfectly well. There is one comfort at least,' said Charles, drawing himself down the last step.

'Dear Amy! And the babe--did you see it?'

'Yes; the little creature was lying by her, and she put her hand on it, and gave one of those smiles that are so terribly like his; but I could not have spoken about it for the world. Such fools we be!' concluded Charles, with an attempt at a smile.

'It is healthy?'

'All a babe ought to be, they say, all that could be expected of it, except the not being of the right sort, and if Amy does not mind that, I don't know who should,' and Charles deposited himself on the sofa, heaving a deep sigh, intended to pass for the conclusion of the exertion.

'Then you think she is not disappointed?'