“Go in there, sir!” she repeated, with awful solemnity of voice and manner, “and stay until you’re called, and don’t dare come in the room!”
Charley, the young and anxious husband, was stupefied, but mechanically obeyed.
He had not remained long in suspense, when the connecting door between the back and front bed-rooms opened, and Dame Worthington, all smiles and tears, appeared with something in her arms, which, rolled up in flannels and shawls, appeared to be an armful of newly-made muffins.
“Look at that, my dear! look at your own dear boy, and kiss him!”
Old Sir Richard, Charley, and Dr. Stevens gazed upon the tiny face of the babe, who, with its little fists tightly closed, half-opened its eyes and began to cry right lustily.
Dame Worthington gave old Sir Richard a peculiar look, and that respectable old gentleman smiled, shook Charley by the hand, took a pinch of snuff, and turned aside.
Dr. Stevens pronounced it “an extraordinary infant,” and said it must have weighed ten pounds.
While Charley, overjoyed to hear of Clara’s safety, took his first-born from the good old lady’s arms, kissed it, and, going into the front room, placed it beside its mother.
Poor Clara, weak, faint, pale, and suffering, languidly opened her eyes, faintly smiled, and sighed.
Charley kissed her, of course, very fondly, and would have remained by her side, but the merry, laughing old dame, and the august, solemn-spoken mother-in-law bade her daughter dry up her tears, and remember she was “one of the Haylarks,” and quickly hustled poor Charley out of the room.