It is a very fine thing to be a baronet--a Kingsland of Kingsland, with fifteen thousand a year, and the finest old house in the county; but if Death will stalk grimly over your threshold and snatch away the life you love more than your own, then even that glory is not omniscient. For this wintery midnight, while Sir Jasper Kingsland walks moodily up and down--up and down--Lady Kingsland, in the chamber above, lies ill unto death.
An hour passes--the clock in the turret and the buhl toy on the stone mantel toll solemnly one. The embers drop monotonously through the grate--a dog bays deeply somewhere in the quadrangle below--the wailing wind of coming morning sighs lamentingly through the tossing copper-beeches, and the roar of the surf afar off comes ever and anon like distant thunder. The house is silent as the tomb--so horribly silent that the cold drops start out on the face of the tortured man. Who knows? Death has been on the threshold of that upper chamber all night, waiting for his prey. This awful hush may be the paean that proclaims that he is master!
A tap at the door. The baronet paused in his stride and turned his bloodshot eyes that way. His very voice was hollow and unnatural as he said: "Come in."
A servant entered--the same who had gone his errand.
"The Reverend Cyrus Green is here, sir. Shall I show him up?"
"Yes--no--I cannot see him. Show him into the drawing-room until he is needed."
"He will not be needed," said a voice at his elbow, and Doctor Parker Godroy came briskly forward. "My dear Sir Jasper, allow me to congratulate you! All is well, thank Heaven, and--it is a son!"
Sir Jasper Kingsland sunk into a seat, thrilling from head to foot, turning sick and faint in the sudden revulsion from despair to hope.
"Saved?" he said, in a gasping whisper. "Both?"
"Both, my dear Sir Jasper!" the doctor responded, cordially. "Your good lady is very much prostrated--exhausted--but that was to be looked for, you know; and the baby--ah! the finest boy I have had the pleasure of presenting to an admiring world within ten years. Come and see them!"
"May I?" the baronet cried, starting to his feet.
"Certainly, my dear Sir Jasper--most certainly. There is nothing in the world to hinder--only be a little cautious, you know. Our good lady must be kept composed and quiet, and left to sleep; and you will just take one peep and go. We won't need the Reverend Cyrus."
He led the way from the library, rubbing his hands as your brisk little physicians do, up a grand stair-way where you might have driven a coach and four, and into a lofty and most magnificently furnished bed-chamber.