“Yes, he would have come up here himself, but I would not let him. Nurse, do you hear? Papa wants baby; let me have her.”
“Bless me, Miss Flora, you can’t hold her while you are all of a tremble! And he has been to Miss Margaret?”
“Yes, nurse, and he was only rather stiff and lame.”
“Did Margaret seem to know him?” said Ethel.
“She just answered in that dreamy way when he spoke to her. He says he thinks it is as Mr. Ward believes, and that she will soon come to herself. He is quite able to consider—”
“And he knows all?”
“I am sure he does. He desired to see baby, and he wants you, nurse. Only mind you command yourself—don’t say a word you can help—do nothing to agitate him.”
Nurse promised, but the tears came so fast, and sobs with them, as she approached her master’s room, that Flora saw no composure could be expected from her; and taking the infant from her, carried it in, leaving the door open for her to follow when wanted. Ethel stood by listening. There was silence at first, then some sounds from the baby, and her father’s voice soothing it, in his wonted caressing phrases and tones, so familiar that they seemed to break the spell, drive away her vague terrors, and restore her father. Her heart bounded, and a sudden impulse carried her to the bedside, at once forgetting all dread of seeing him, and chance of doing him harm. He lay, holding the babe close to him, and his face was not altered, so that there was nothing in the sight to impress her with the need of caution, and, to the consternation of the anxious Flora, she exclaimed, abruptly and vehemently, “Papa! should not she be christened?”
Dr. May looked up at Ethel, then at the infant; “Yes,” he said, “at once.” Then added feebly and languidly, “Some one must see to it.”
There was a pause, while Flora looked reproachfully at her sister, and Ethel became conscious of her imprudence, but in a few moments Dr. May spoke again, first to the baby, and then asking, “Is Richard here?”