‘Is there anything wrong between you and Robert?’ Hester asked this question of her husband, one morning in January, as he was sitting by the side of her sofa in their bedroom. The baby was in her arms, and at that moment there was a question as to the godfathers and godmother for the baby.

The letter from Mrs. Smith had arrived on the last day of October, nearly two months before the birth of the baby, and the telegrams refusing to send the money demanded had been despatched on the 1st November,— so that, at this time, Caldigate’s mind was accustomed to the burden of the idea. From that day to this he had not often spoken of the matter to Robert Bolton,— nor indeed had there been much conversation between them on other matters. Robert had asked him two or three times whether he had received any reply by the wires. No such message had come; and of course he answered his brother-in-law’s questions accordingly;— but he had answered them almost with a look of offence. The attorney’s manner and tone seemed to him to convey reproach; and he was determined that none of the Boltons should have the liberty to find fault with him. It had been suggested, some weeks since, before the baby was born, that an effort should be made to induce Mrs. Bolton to act as godmother. And, since that, among the names of many other relatives and friends, those of uncle Babington and Robert Bolton had been proposed. Hester had been particularly anxious that her brother should be asked, because,— as she so often said to her husband,— he had always been her firm friend in the matter of her marriage. But now, when the question was to be settled, John Caldigate shook his head.

‘I was afraid there was something even before baby was born,’ said the wife.

‘There is something, my pet.’

‘What is it, John? You do not mean to keep it secret from me?’

‘I have not the slightest objection to your asking him to stand;— but I think it possible that he may refuse.’

‘Why should he refuse?’

‘Because, as you say, there is something wrong between us. There have been applications for money about the Polyeuka mine. I would not trouble you about it while you were ill.’

‘Does he think you ought to give back the money?’

‘No,— not that. We are quite agreed about the money. But another question has come up;— and though we are, I believe, agreed about that too, still there has been something a little uncomfortable.’

‘Would not baby make that all right?’

‘I think if you were to ask your brother William it would be better.’

‘May I not know what it is now, John?’

‘I have meant you to know always,— from the moment when it occurred,— when you should be well enough.’

分享到：