"I never was so busy in my life," Laura answered. "You have no idea what it is to take care of a baby!"
"No," said Ghisleri, with a smile, "I have no idea. But your mother tells me he is a splendid child."
"Of course I think so, and my mother does. You shall see him one of these days—he is asleep now. Would you like to know how my day is passed?"
And she went on to give him an account of the baby life that so wholly absorbed her thoughts. Ghisleri listened quietly as though he understood it all. He wished, indeed, that it were possible to talk of something else, and he felt something like a sensation of pain as Laura constantly called the child "Herbert," just as she had formerly been used to speak of her husband. Nevertheless, he was conscious also of a certain sense of satisfaction. During the month which had elapsed she had learned to hide her great trouble under the joy of early motherhood. There was something very beautiful in her devotion to the child of her sorrow, and hurt though Ghisleri was by her manner to him, she seemed more lovely and more admirable than ever in his eyes. He said so when he went to see Maddalena dell' Armi late in the afternoon.
"I have seen Lady Herbert to-day," he began. "It is the first time since poor Arden died."
"Is she very unhappy?" asked the Contessa.
"She must be, for she never speaks of him. She talks of nothing but the child."
"I understand that," said Maddalena, thoughtfully. "And then, it is such a compensation."
"Yes." Ghisleri sighed. He was thinking of what her life might have been if children had been born to her, and he guessed that the same thoughts were in her mind at the time.
"Did you ever think," she asked after a short pause, "what would become of me if you left me? I should be quite alone; do you realise that?"