"You did not expect me," said Captain Ernscliffe, as they shook hands. "I received your letter at midnight, sir, and came this morning as early as propriety would allow. I want to see my wife, Mr. Lyle," he added, in a trembling voice. "Will you take her my card and see if she will admit me to her presence?"
Mr. Lyle looked at him curiously a moment. He saw that he was struggling with some unexplained agitation, and that he had not come with any hostile intent.
He pointed toward a side door that stood slightly ajar.
"She is in there," he said; "there is no need of formalities. Go in and see her."
With a faltering step Captain Ernscliffe advanced and passed through the partly open door.
He found himself in a beautiful little dressing-room, with hangings of pale-blue silk, exquisitely furnished and pervaded with the delicate perfume of white hyacinth.
Before the bright fire burning in the polished grate a lady was sitting in a low rocker of cushioned blue satin.
He advanced toward her, then started back. He thought he had made a mistake.
For the beautiful woman sitting there in her elegant morning-robe of quilted blue satin was looking down and smiling at something that lay on her arm, nestled close and warm against her breast.
It was the pink face of a very tiny baby, wrapped in costly robes of embroidered flannel, and lace and cambric.