welfth hour,
where accounts have not been made up previously?"

It was hard upon midday. The Rev. Mr. Little, Mr. Carlyle, and Miss
Carlyle were gathered in the dressing-room, round a table, on which
stood a rich china bowl, containing water for the baptism. Joyce, her
pale face working with emotion, came into the room, carrying what looked
like a bundle of flannel. Little cared Mr. Carlyle for the bundle, in
comparison with his care for his wife.

"Joyce," he whispered, "is it well still?"

"I believe so, sir."

The services commenced. The clergyman took the child. "What name?" he
asked.

Mr. Carlyle had never thought about the name. But he replied, pretty
promptly.

"William;" for he knew it was a name revered and loved by Lady Isabel.

The minister dipped his fingers in the water. Joyce interrupted in much
confusion, looking at her master.

"It is a little girl, sir. I beg your pardon, I'm sure I thought I had
said so; but I'm so flurried as I never was before."

There was a pause, and then the minister spoke again. "Name the child."

"Isabel Lucy," said Mr. Carlyle. Upon which a strange sort of resentful
sniff was heard from Miss Corny. She had probably thought to hear him
mention her own; but he had named it after his wife and his mother.

Mr. Carlyle was not allowed to see his wife until evening. His eyelashes
glistened, as he looked down at her. She detected his emotion, and a
faint smile parted her lips.

"I fear I bore it badly, Archibald; but let us be thankful that it is
over. How thankful, none can know, save those who have gone through it."

"I think they can," he murmured. "I never knew what thankfulness was
until this day."

"That the baby is safe?"

"That _you_ are safe, my darling; safe and spared to me, Isabel," he
whispered, hiding his face upon hers. "I never, until to-day, knew what
prayer was--the prayer of a heart in its sore need."

"Have you written to Lord Mount Severn?" she asked after a while.

"This afternoon," he replied.

"Why did you give baby my name--Isabel?"

"Do you think I could have given it a prettier one? I don't."

"Why do you not bring a chair, and sit down by me?"

He smiled and shook his head. "I wish I might. But they limited my stay
with you to four minutes, and Wainwright has posted himself outside the
door, with his watch in his hand."

Quite true. There stood the careful surgeon, and the short interview was
over almost as soon as it had begun.