He was consequently startled by a gentle murmur
from one of the heavily curtained window recesses. It was a woman's
voice--low, sweet, caressing, and filled with an almost pathetic
tenderness. And it was followed by a distinct gurgling satisfied crow.
Barker turned instantly in that direction. A step brought him to the
curtain, where a singular spectacle presented itself.
Seated on a lounge, completely absorbed and possessed by her treasure,
was the "horrid woman" whom his wife had indicated only a little while
ago, holding a baby--Kitty's sacred baby--in her wanton lap! The child
was feebly grasping the end of the slender jeweled necklace which the
woman held temptingly dangling from a thin white jeweled finger above
it. But its eyes were beaming with an intense delight, as if trying to
respond to the deep, concentrated love in the handsome face that was
bent above it.
At the sudden intrusion of Barker she looked up. There was a faint rise
in her color, but no loss of sell-possession.
"Please don't scold the nurse," she said, "nor say anything to Mrs.
Barker. It is all my fault. I thought that both the nurse and child
looked dreadfully bored with each other, and I borrowed the little
fellow for a while to try and amuse him. At least I haven't made
him cry, have I, dear?" The last epithet, it is needless to say,
was addressed to the little creature in her lap, but in its tender
modulation it touched the father's quick sympathies as if he had shared
it with the child.
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