"Isabel I have resolved to give in proper time to Charles Bligh, who will be a baronet when she appears in public, for I am sure old Sir Charles is dropsical; and, if that poor sickly Lord Ennismore lives to come of age, he will do for Julia. Clara is a handsome girl, and I look very high for _her_, but I never dreamed of having another plague upon my hands. I quite made up my mind it was to be a son, and this unlooked-for disappointment worries me to death." "You are always calculating, Gertrude. You are always sketching out folly, and scheming plans for future mortification. Who the deuce would talk of Tom Pynsent, who is just sent off to school, or of Charles Bligh, whom we have never seen, or of Lord Ennismore, who can't live a twelvemonth, and of poor Clara, who is destined for the man in the moon! Prove yourself a good wife and mother, my dear, and leave the children's destinies to develop themselves as God pleases." "You men, my love, are very indolent, and always trust to casualities: I never do." "How the deuce are you to catch Tom Pynsent, Gertrude? If you ladies begin intriguing so early----." Lady Wetheral waved her hand languidly. "Don't express yourself so coarsely, my love." "Your manner is refined, I confess," answered her husband, smiling, "but your matter is equally coarse with the speech you deprecate: you are already appropriating your children, without considering their affections, or the characters of the boys you are designing for them so placidly. As far as I can judge, Tom Pynsent is a blackguard." "Never mind that, my love: boys and men are very different beings. My arrangements are complete on the score of my four daughters' ultimate success, but this unfortunate child is a bar sinister. Her birth will lessen my girls' fortunes." "She shall be my own child, and my own care," returned Sir John Wetheral. "By all means, love, and a pretty mess you will make of it: I dare say she will be a 'Jack,' or a very decided young lady, as all girls are who are petted by fathers; but my daughters will be disposed of before she quits the nursery, therefore, her example will not influence their characters." "What is her name to be?" asked Sir John, as he fondled the infant in his arms, and kissed its cheek. "Call her what you please, Sir John; she is to be your care now, not mine. If you think a name necessary, let it be your own choice." "Then I name her Christobel, after my good old aunt, Gertrude." "A delightful name, my love, and after an excellent model. Christobel was a heavenly-minded, frightful old maid, and your fifth daughter may resemble her in every respect." "Let it be so. My aunt was a woman of strong affections, and of powerful abilities, and, if this child possesses half her excellence, she will be a treasure to me in my old age." "I dare say she will be a great comfort to you, love," said Lady Wetheral, in a sleepy tone, "but, suppose the nurse is summoned for Miss Christobel--I am inclined to sleep."