He was leading the way to the suite of apartments occupied by himself and wife, his mother following.
They passed into the bedroom, where Zoe lay extended on her couch in placid slumber. They drew near and stood looking down at her, each face a trifle anxious.
She stirred and opened her eyes sleepily: “Mamma,” she murmured, “Edward—”
“Yes, love, we are both here,” he answered in tender tones. Then bending over her and pressing a tender kiss upon her cheek: “Do you know how rich you are, my darling?”
“Rich?” she repeated with a bewildered look up into his face, still only half awake.
“Yes; both you and I; we have more than doubled our wealth since you went to sleep two hours ago.”
“Oh!” rousing to full consciousness, “is it all over? Which is it? Show it to me, do, dear.”
“It’s both,” he said, with a low, gleeful laugh.
“Look! they are close beside you,” folding back the covers of the bed, and bringing into view a pair of tiny forms and faces. “Your son and daughter, young Mrs. Travilla.”
She raised herself slightly to get a better view. “Oh, the darlings, the lovely darlings! Indeed we are rich! You may have the girl, but the boy’s mine,” she added, with a silvery laugh. “But they’re like as two peas. If they were both boys, or both girls, I should never be able to tell them apart. So it’s a blessing they’re one of each.”