‘All a babe ought to be, they say, all that could be expected of it, except the not being of the right sort, and if Amy does not mind that, I don’t know who should,’ and Charles deposited himself on the sofa, heaving a deep sigh, intended to pass for the conclusion of the exertion.
‘Then you think she is not disappointed?’
‘Certainly not. The first thing she said when she was told it was a girl, was, “I am so glad!” and she does seem very happy with it, poor little thing! In fact, mamma thinks she had so little expected that it would go well with herself, or with it, that now it is all like a surprise.’
There was a silence, first broken by Charles saying, ‘You must be content with me—I can’t send for anyone. Bustle has taken papa and Charlotte for a walk, and Laura is on guard over Amy, for we have made mamma go and lie down. It was high time, after sitting up two nights, and meaning to sit up a third.’
‘Has she really—can she bear it?’
‘Yes; I am afraid I have trained her in sitting up, and Amy and all of us know that anxiety hurts her more than fatigue. She would only lie awake worrying herself, instead of sitting peaceably by the fire, holding the baby, or watching Amy, and having a quiet cry when she is asleep. For, after all, it is very sad!’ Charles was trying to brave his feelings, but did not succeed very well. ‘Yesterday morning I was properly frightened. I came into the dressing-room, and found mamma crying so, that I fully believed it was all wrong, but she was just coming to tell us, and was only overcome by thinking of not having him to call first, and how happy he would have been.’
‘And the dear Amy herself!’
‘I can’t tell. She is a wonderful person for keeping herself composed when she ought. I see she has his picture in full view, but she says not a word, except that mamma saw her to-day, when she thought no one was looking, fondling the little thing, and whispering to it—“Guy’s baby!” and “Guy’s little messenger!”’ Charles gave up the struggle, and fairly cried, but in a moment rallying his usual tone, he went on, half laughing,—‘To be sure, what a morsel of a creature it is! It is awful to see anything so small calling itself a specimen of humanity!’
‘It is your first acquaintance with infant humanity, I suppose? Pray, did you ever see a baby?’
‘Not to look at. In fact, Mary, I consider it a proof of your being a rational woman that you have not asked me whether it is pretty.’