A Heart's Bitterness — page 202: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Lod : A HEART’S BITTERNESS. began to ring that old, old strain, ‘‘Summer is a comin’ in!”—the tune that always welcomed a new-born Lord of Leigh. - **'There’s a'son,” said the women, heartily. ‘‘ God bless the little earl! How proud that sweet young mother will be!” There came for Violet a season of rest and peace. Her heart overflowed with gratitude, and was exalted with hope, as she looked at her beautiful little son. In the infant, Rupert, the errors and neglects of his father were forgotten, or lost their power to wound. The new king of Violet’s heart accomplished what she had so long prayed and striven for—the banishment of Keith’s. absorbing image from her heart. ‘he child lay in his cradle of rose satin and white lace, and Violet feasted her loving eyes on her treasure; as the infant, pink and dimpled, slept in her tender arms, and her dainty face hourly regained a peaceful, happy look, as her wounded heart found at last its deep consolation. Leigh was delighted with his heir, and appeared to love the child fondly. At first the babe seemed likely to draw the parents more closely together, but love of pleasure and his evil disposition had too long held empire in Leigh’s soul to be easily driven out; and, having had the triumph of summoning Lady Clare and Colonel Hartington to the mag- nificent christening feast, exhibiting the child to the ad- miring tenantry, and receiving the congratulations of his _ friends and neighbors, Lord Leigh contented himself with the knowledge that he had a promising son and heir, and relapsed into his moody and restless condition, going often up to London for a week or weeks, when Violet dared not think what he might be about, and hourly trembled lest there should come bad news from him; and old Adam looked at the future Earl of Leigh, and felt sure his father _ was risking his inheritance at the gaming table. It was a mid-February night, and the little countess _ could not sleep. The babe was in deep slumber. Violet finally rose, put on her dressing-gown and slippers, and wandered out into the dimly lighted corridor. She walked up and down once or twice, with swift, soundless step, then gazed down the great carved oak staircase into the hall. Violet, led by some fascination of half terror, glided like a little white ghost, in her trailing robe of snowy cash- mere, and moved along the gloomy lower hall, so famous a 3 a (eo) (E(@) ‘books