Why, she looks old enough to be my mother! What are you thinking of?”
Lady Laura was thinking of a great many things, and they were not pleasant ones. Nevertheless her husband spoke so earnestly, so truthfully, that she was somewhat staggered in spite of her exasperation.
“It will come, next, that I must not visit a patient when called out to one,” he proceeded in a severe tone. “You speak of shame, Laura, but I do not think it is I, who ought to feel it. These absurd delusions bring yourself shame, but not me. I know nothing of the woman and her child. I solemnly declare to you that until last night I did not know Tupper’s cottage was occupied, or that such people existed.”
“Who summoned you to them?” inquired Laura, no relenting whatever in her words and aspect.
“Pepperfly, the nurse. I met the old woman at the gate here last night, as I was coming home from the dinner. She said a person with a sick child had come to Tupper’s cottage, and would I go up at my leisure, and see it. If you will take the trouble to walk there, and inquire, you will find my statement correct: the boy has a white swelling in the knee.”
“I have been,” she replied, with sullen composure.
Mr. Carlton gave a start of anger. “Very well, my lady; if you think it well to dodge my footsteps amongst my patients, you must do so. I don’t know how I can prevent it. But if you hear nothing worse than that woman can tell you, you won’t hurt.”
“Mr. Carlton! keep within the bounds of truth, if you please. When did I ever dodge your footsteps?”
“It seems like it, at any rate.”
“No; my passing that cottage was accidental. I was out with Jane to-day, and she had to go down Blister Laue.”
“What has given rise to this suspicion?” demanded Mr. Carlton, feeling completely in the dark. “The very appearance of the woman might have shown you its absurdity. You must have gone to sleep and dreamt it.”
Laura was in a cruel perplexity of mind. Were her suspicions right, or were they wrong? She looked ready to break a glass on her own score, and she dropped her voice again and leaned towards Mr. Carlton.
“If it be as you say, why should there be so extraordinary a likeness between you and the child.”
“A likeness between me and the child!” he echoed, in genuine surprise. “There’s none in the world, none whatever. How can you draw so, Laura, upon your flighty imagination?”
“There never was, I believe, so great a one in the world,” was Laura’s answer. “Every feature is similar, save the eyes. That is not all. Your ears are a peculiar shape, unlike any one’s I ever saw; so are that child’s. The very feather here,” touching the parting of her own hair in front, “the wave of the flaxen hair; it is all you in miniature.”
Now Mr. Carlton had failed to observe any likeness to himself; the thought of such had not crossed his mind. It was only natural, therefore, that he should disbelieve in the existence of any, and he thought his wife was asserting it, in her jealousy, without foundation.
“This is very absurd, Laura! I had hoped these fancies were done with.”
“Why should he bear your name—Lewis?” proceeded Lady Laura.”
“He does not bear it,” replied Mr. Carlton, looking at her in increased surprise.
“He does! Where is the use of your denying facts?” she angrily demanded.
“I asked the boy’s name this afternoon, and his mother told me it was George. If he bears any other, all I can say, is, I do not know it. They did not mention another to me.”
“I heard the woman speak to him as Lewis. The boy told me himself at the gate that his name was Lewis,” reiterated Laura. “You gave him that toy!”
“I know I did. I have no children of my own; but I love children, and I often give a plaything to my little patients. Is there any harm in it?”
“Lewis is an uncommon name,” she persistently resumed, fearing she was getting the worst of the argument. “And the likeness is there!”
“Upon my word, Laura, this is very absurd! If people call their children Lewis, I cannot help it. As to the likeness—pray did Lady Jane see this astounding likeness?” he broke off to ask.
“She did not say so.”
“No, no. I believe you have drawn solely on your own imagination for this fancy, and that nothing of the sort exists. I can only assure you, and with truth, that I failed to observe it, as I hardly should have failed had it been there. The boy was a stranger to me until this day.”
Laura replied not. She had nearly arrived at the conclusion that she had made a very ridiculous mistake. Mr. Carlton rose and went over to her.
“Understand me, Laura,” he said, in a serious and impressive tone, but one of friendly conciliation. “Whether the resemblance exists