CHAPTER XIX.
Following these days there came a time of perfect peace for both of us, Evadne's health was satisfactory; she led the life she had planned for herself; and so long as she shut out all thought of the wicked world and nothing occurred to remind her of the "awful needless suffering" with which she had become acquainted in the past, she was tranquilly happy.
Donino rapidly grew out of arms. He was an independent young rascal from the first, and would never be carried if he could walk, or driven from the moment he could sit a pony—grip is the word, I know, but his legs were not long enough to grip when he began, and his rides were therefore conducted all over the pony's back at first. His object was to keep on, and in order to do so without the assistance he scorned, he rode like a monkey.
Evadne was proud of the boy, but she missed the baby, and complained that her arms were empty. It was not long, however, happily,—and à propos of the number of my responsibilities, I was taken to task severely one day, and discovered that I had in my son a staunch supporter and a counsellor whose astuteness was not to be despised.
I was finishing my letters one afternoon in the library when Evadne came in with her daughter in her arms, and Donino clinging to her skirt. I expected the usual "Don, I am sure you have done enough. Come and have some tea," and turned to meet it with the accustomed protest; "Just five minutes more, my sweetheart." But Evadne began in quite another tone.
"I have just heard such a disgraceful thing about you," she said.
"A disgraceful thing about me!" I exclaimed.
"Yes. I hear you were asked the other day how many children you had, and you answered 'Two or three!' Now, will you kindly count your children, and when you are quite sure you know the number off by heart, repeat it aloud to me, so that I may have some hope that you will not commit yourself in that way again."
"Oh," I answered, "I know how many babies there are; my difficulty is about you. I am never quite sure whether to count you as a child or not."
"Now, I call that a mean little score," she said, carrying her baby off with an affectation of indignation which deceived Donino.