“She shall be christened after our English fashion, doctor, and her name shall be Olive. What do you think of her now? Is she growing prettier?”
The doctor bowed a smiling assent, and walked to the window. Thither Elspie followed him.
“Ye maun tell her the truth—I daurna. Ye will!” and she clutched his arm with eager anxiety. “An' oh! for Gudesake, say it safyly, kindly.”
He shook her off with an uneasy look. He had never felt in a more disagreeable position.
Mrs. Rothesay called him back again. “I think, doctor, her features are improving. She will certainly be a beauty. I should break my heart if she were not. And what would Angus say? Come—what are you and Elspie talking about so mysteriously?”
“My dear madam—hem!” began Dr. Johnson. “I do hope—indeed, I am sure—your child will be a good child, and a great comfort to both her parents;”——
“Certainly—but how grave you are about it.”
“I have a painful duty—a very painful duty,” he replied. But Elspie pushed him aside.
“Ye're just a fule, man!—ye'll kill her. Say your say at ance!”
The young mother turned deadly pale. “Say what Elspie? What is he going to tell me? Angus”——