“That is true; but I could never have kept it to myself; and, what is more, I should have been utterly miserable, especially after baby’s birth.”
“Why more especially after baby’s birth?”
“Because, if it had all come out one of these days, he would not have had a very high opinion of his mother; and, of course, I want baby to respect me.”
She said this with a little air of matronly dignity that was fine to see, and amused and touched him equally.
“I’ll take care Master Baby is brought up to think there never was such a woman as his mother,” he said, smiling. “Boys always imitate their fathers.”
“Do they? I’m so glad!” she answered naïvely. “But, Lawrence, tell me who was it sent you that telegram in Paris?”
“The gentleman with whom poor Mary was living.”
“And where is she now?”
“Dead, poor heart!” he replied solemnly and feelingly. “She left Mr. Jepherson’s house the last time she came to Borton very insufficiently clad, and traveled one whole night. The consequence was that she caught a cold, which settled on her lungs, and only lingered three weeks. I loved her very dearly; but I cannot regret her, Gwen.”
“I suppose it was just an instinct that made her always take refuge at Borton.”