she could hardly be detached from him. She refreshed her colloquial German (or rather Austrian) with his nurse, who had much to say of the goodness of die Gnadigen Frauen. Poor thing, she was the youthful widow of a guide, and the efforts of the two Frauen had been in vain to keep alive her only child, after whose death she had found some consolation in taking charge of Lady Northmoor’s baby on the way home. Constance hoped Ida might never hear this fact.
Some degree of prosperity was greeting the little heir. A bit of moorland, hitherto regarded as worthless, had first been crossed by a branch line, and the primary growth of a station had been followed by the discovery of good building stone, and the erection of a crop of houses of all degrees, which promised to set the Northmoor finances on a better footing than had been theirs for years, and set their conscientious landlord to work at once on providing church room and schools.
All this, and that most precious possession at home, combined to give Lord Northmoor an amount of spirit and life that enabled him to take his place in the county, emancipate himself from the squire, show an opinion of his own, and open his mouth occasionally. As Bertha observed, no one would ever have called him a stick if he had begun like this. To people like these, humbled and depressed in early life, a little happiness was a great stimulus.
CHAPTER XXV
THE LOVE
It was not till Christmas that Ida had the opportunity of making her observations. By that time ‘Mite,’ as he was supposed to have named himself, had found the use of his feet, and was acquiring that of his tongue. In fact, he was a very fine forward child, who might easily have been supposed to be eighteen months old instead of fifteen, as Ida did not fail to remark.
He was a handsome little creature, round and fair, with splendid sturdy legs and mottled arms, hair that stood up in a pale golden crest, round blue eyes and a bright colour, without much likeness as yet to either parent, though Lord Northmoor declared that there was an exact resemblance to his own brother, Charles, Herbert’s father, as he first remembered him. Ida longed to purse up her lips but did not dare, and was provoked to see her mother taken completely captive by his charms, and petting him to the utmost extent.
Indeed, Lady Northmoor, who was very much afraid of spoiling him, was often distressed when
such scenes as this took place. ‘Mite! Mite, dear, no!’ when his fat little hands had grasped an ivory paper-cutter, and its blade was on the way to the button mouth. ‘No!’ as he paused and looked at her. ‘Here’s Mite’s ball! poor little dear, do let him have it’—and Mite, reading sympathy in his aunt’s face, laughed in a fascinating triumphant manner, and took a bite with his small teeth.
‘Mite! mother said no!’ and it was gently taken from his hand, but before the fingers had embraced the substituted ball, a depreciating look and word of remonstrance gave a sense of ill-usage and there was a roar.
‘Oh, poor little dear! Here—auntie’s goody goody—’