At
length the child was born, a fact for which Geoffrey, at least, was very
thankful.
"Take it away. I do not want to see it!" said Lady Honoria to the
scandalised nurse when the little creature was brought to her, wrapped
in its long robes.
"Give it to me, nurse--I do," said her husband.
From that moment Geoffrey gave all the pent-up affection of his bruised
soul to this little daughter, and as the years went on they grew very
dear to each other. But an active-minded, strong-hearted, able-bodied
man cannot take a babe as the sole companion of his existence. Probably
Geoffrey would have found this out in time, and might have drifted into
some mode of life more or less undesirable, had not an accident occurred
to prevent it. In his dotage, Geoffrey's old uncle Sir Robert Bingham
fell a victim to the wiles of an adventuress and married her. Then he
promptly died, and eight months afterwards a posthumous son was born.
To Geoffrey this meant ruin. His allowance stopped and his expectations
vanished at one fell swoop. He pulled himself together, however, as
a brave-hearted man does under such a shock, and going to his wife he
explained to her that he must now work for his living, begging her to
break down the barrier that was between them and give him her sympathy
and help.
Pages:
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119