That Stick ...

‘You have no doubt ceased from your exertions in the way of finding nurses, since the telegram has told you that the son and heir has considerately saved trouble and expense by making his appearance on Michaelmas morning.  It was before there was time to fetch anybody but the ancient village Bettina.  Everything is most prosperous, and I am almost as proud as the parents—and to see them gloat over the morsel is a caution.  They look at him as if such a being had never been known on the earth before; and he really is a very fine healthy creature, most ridiculously like the portrait of the original old Michael Morton Northmoor in the full-bottomed wig.  He seems to be almost equally marvellous to the Ratzes population, being the first infant seen there unswaddled—or washed.  Bettina’s horror at the idea of washing him is worth seeing.  Her brown old face was almost convulsed, and she and our Frau-wirthin concurred in assuring me that it would be p. 144fatal to der kleine baron if he were washed, except with white wine and milk at a fortnight old; nor would they accept my assurance that my three daughters and seven grandchildren had survived the process.  I have to do it myself, and dress him as I can, for his wardrobe as made here is not complete, and whatever you can send us will be highly acceptable.  It is lucky that Northmoor is a born nurse, for the women’s fear of breaking the child is really justifiable, as they never handled anything not made up into a mummy; moreover, they wish to let all the world up into Mary’s room to behold the curiosity, I met the priest upon his way and turned him back!  So we have pretty well all the nursing on our hands, and happily it is of the most satisfactory kind, with the one drawback that we have to call in the services of a ‘valia’; but on the other hand we have all been so much interested in a poor little widow, Hedwig Grantzen, whose husband was lost last spring in a snow-storm, that it is pleasant to have some employment for her.  Such a creature as came over on chance and speculation—a great coarse handsome girl, in exaggerated costume, all new, with lacy ribbons down her back; but I rode over to Botzen, and interviewed her parish priest about her, and that was enough to settle her.  Every one is asleep except myself, and Mary’s face is one smile as she sleeps.

‘This is going to be posted by the last of the tourists, luckily a clergyman, whom we begged to baptize the boy, as there is a possibility that snows may close us in before we can get away.

‘So he is named Michael Kenton, partly after p. 145my own dear brother as well as the old founder, partly in honour of the day and of Sir Edward Kenton, who, they say, has been their very kind friend.  It really is a feast to see people so wonderingly happy and thankful.  The little creature has all the zest of novelty to them, and they coo and marvel over it in perfect felicity.  When you will be introduced to the hero, I cannot guess, for though he has been an earlier arrival than his mother’s inexperience expected, I much doubt her being able to get out of this place while the way to Botzen is passable according to the prognostics of the sages.  What splendid studies of ice peaks I shall have!  Your affectionate cousin,

‘L. Bury.’

A telegram had preceded the letter.  One soon followed by Mrs. Bury’s promised note had filled Constance’s honest little heart with rapture, another had set all the bells in Northmoor Church ringing and Best rejoicing that ‘that there Harbut’s nose was put out of joint,’ a feeling wherein Lady Adela could not but participate, though, of course, she showed no sign of it to Constance.  A sharply-worded letter to the girl soon came from her mother, demanding what she had known beforehand.  Mrs. Morton had plainly been quite unprepared for what was a severe blow to her, and it was quite possible to understand how, in his shyness, Lord Northmoor had put off writing of the hope and expectation from day to day till all had been fulfilled sooner than had been expected.

It was the first thing that brought home to p. 146Constance that the event was scarcely as delightful to her family as to herself.  She wrote what she knew and heard no more, for none of her home family were apt to favour her with much correspondence.  Miss Morton, however, had written to her sister-in-law.

‘Poor Herbert!  I am sorry for him, though you won’t be.  He takes it very well, he really is a very good sort at bottom, and it really is the very best thing for him, as I have been trying to persuade him.’