kept up an enthusiastic interest in the widow only a little older
than herself, whose very reserve and retirement but added to her
unconscious power of enchantment.

"Oh, Miss Benson! I never saw a christening; papa says I may go, if
you think Mr Benson and Mrs Denbigh would not dislike it; and I will
be quite quiet, and sit up behind the door, or anywhere; and that
sweet little baby! I should so like to see him christened; is he to
be called Leonard, did you say? After Mr Denbigh, is it?"

"No--not exactly," said Miss Benson, rather discomfited.

"Was not Mr Denbigh's name Leonard, then? Mamma thought it would be
sure to be called after him, and so did I. But I may come to the
christening, may I not, dear Miss Benson?"

Miss Benson gave her consent with a little inward reluctance.
Both her brother and Ruth shared in this feeling, although no one
expressed it; and it was presently forgotten.

Jemima stood grave and quiet in the old-fashioned vestry adjoining
the chapel, as they entered with steps subdued to slowness. She
thought Ruth looked so pale and awed because she was left a solitary
parent; but Ruth came to the presence of God, as one who had gone
astray, and doubted her own worthiness to be called His child; she
came as a mother who had incurred a heavy responsibility, and who
entreated His almighty aid to enable her to discharge it; full of
passionate, yearning love which craved for more faith in God, to
still her distrust and fear of the future that might hang over her
darling. When she thought of her boy, she sickened and trembled;
but when she heard of God's loving-kindness, far beyond all tender
mother's love, she was hushed into peace and prayer. There she stood,
her fair pale cheek resting on her baby's head, as he slumbered on
her bosom; her eyes went slanting down under their half-closed white
lids; but their gaze was not on the primitive cottage-like room, it
was earnestly fixed on a dim mist, through which she fain would have
seen the life that lay before her child; but the mist was still and
dense, too thick a veil for anxious human love to penetrate. The
future was hid with God.

Mr Benson stood right under the casement window that was placed high
up in the room; he was almost in shade, except for one or two marked
lights which fell on hair already silvery white; his voice was always
low and musical when he spoke to few; it was too weak to speak so as
to be heard by many without becoming hars