“I thank you very much, dear Anna, for your kindness in thinking of all this. And I shall be very grateful to you and dear uncle and cousin Dick for becoming sponsors for my darling boy,” said Drusilla, earnestly. “And the christening is to go on?” “Certainly, dear Anna, if you please.” “What name will you give your child?” “If dear uncle consents I should like to name my boy for him—‘Leonard.’” “And not Alick?” inquired Anna. It was the first time for weeks past that she had uttered his name; and she did it now in a sort of triumph in the thought that his discarded wife had ceased to care for him. “And not Alick?” she repeated, seeing that Drusilla hesitated to answer. “No, not Alick,” the young mother now replied, calmly and gravely. “That is right; I am glad of it! Very glad of it!” exclaimed Anna, with such righteous indignation and exultation combined that the young wife looked at her in surprise and sorrow. “I think you mistake me, dear cousin,” she said. “The only reason why I do not call my child after his father is this:—I have already _one_ Alick, _but_ one Alick and I can never have another. I cannot even bear that my child should have his name. I want but one Alick in the whole world. “Goodness knows, I think one of that sort would be quite enough!” exclaimed Anna. Drusilla looked at her in gentle reproach. “Is it _possible_, child, that you still love that scamp?” scornfully demanded Miss Lyon. “Oh, Anna dear, yes! He _used_ to love me too; he was very kind to me, from the days when I was a poor little sickly, ignorant girl, till within a short time ago. Oh, Anna, shall the madness of a few months make me forget all the loving kindness of many long years? Never, Alick, dear, never,” she murmured, dropping her voice as in soliloquy; “I will still love you and pray for you and trust in you—for I know, Alick, dear—_when you come to yourself you will come to me_. I can wait for that time.” Anna gazed on the inspired young face in amazement that gradually gave way to reverence, and even to awe. “Drusilla,” she said, solemnly, “I retract all I ever said against Alexander, and I promise never to open my lips to his prejudice again.” Drusilla looked up gratefully but—inquiringly. “Your eyes thank me, but you wish to know why I say this. I will tell you: It is because you make me begin to believe in that man. Your faith in him affects me. There _must_ be some great reserve of good somewhere latent and undeveloped in his nature, to have drawn forth such a faith as yours. But were he the greatest sinner that ever darkened the earth, such love as yours would make him sacred.” CHAPTER II. CALM DELIGHTS. Now has descended a serener hour, And with reviving fortunes.—SHELLEY.