“A calamity?” and Sir Charles began to tremble.
“She is only cold to the child as yet. She might go farther, and fancy she hated it. Obsta principiis: that is my motto. Not that I really think, for a moment, the child is in danger. Lady Bassett has mind to control her nerves with; but why run the shadow of a chance?”
“I will not run the shadow of a chance,” said Sir Charles, resolutely; “let us come upstairs: my decision is taken.”
The very next day Sir Charles called on Mrs. Meyrick, and asked if he could come to any arrangement with her to lodge Mr. Bassett and his nurse under her roof. “The boy wants change of air,” said he.
Mrs. Meyrick jumped at the proposal, but declined all terms. “No,” said she, “the child I have suckled shall never pay me for his lodging. Why should he, sir, when I'd pay you to let him come, if I wasn't afeard of offending you?”
Sir Charles was touched at this, and, being a gentleman of tact, said, “You are very good: well, then, I must remain your debtor for the present.”
He then took his leave, but she walked with him a few yards, just as far as the wicket, gate that separated her little front garden from the high-road.
“I hope,” said she, “my lady will come and see me when my lamb is with me; a sight of her would be good for sore eyes. She have never been here but once, and then she did not get out of her carriage.”
“Humph!” said Sir Charles, apologetically; “she seldom goes out now; you understand.”
“Oh, I've heard, sir; and I do put up my prayers for her; for my lady has been a good friend to me, sir, and if you will believe me, I often sets here and longs for a sight of her, and her sweet eyes, and her hair like sunshine, that I've had in my hand so often. Well, sir, I hope it will be a girl this time, a little girl with golden hair; that's what I wants this time. They'll be the prettiest pair in England.”