"I'm going in there.
I--I've got to know--"
He rose, determinedly, shaking off Spear's detaining arm. In the doorway
stood Dr. Jones. Again came the tiny cry. "It's a boy," said the medico,
and held out his hand.
But Adrian caught him by the shoulders. "My wife?" he asked. "How is
she? Is there any--"
"Danger? No, it's over," said the doctor. "Sit down and calm yourself."
Adrian relaxed a trifle. Finally his set face softened; he laughed.
* * * * *
It was the evening of July 14, 1849. Stanley stood over the cradle of
his son, looking worshipfully down at the tiny sleeping face. Inez
Stanley, busied with the varied tasks of motherhood, came and stood for
a moment beside him. She voiced that platitude of wives and mothers in
their pride: "He looks just like you, Adrian."
Stanley put his hands upon her shoulders. "Got your mouth, your big
eyes," he said, and kissed her.
They were wont to quarrel tenderly over this. But tonight Inez looked
seriously up at her husband. Suddenly she hid her face upon
his shoulder.
"If only--if only--" she whispered, "he wouldn't grow up. And we
wouldn't grow old."
Stanley's fingers on her hair stroked gently.
Pages:
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155