aggard looks on the day when they met for the
baptism of 'Arthur Fotheringham.' It was a melancholy christening,
without the presence of either parent; and so all the little party felt
it, and yet, if they could have seen into the recesses of the mother's
heart, they would have found there were causes which made this baptism
day better to her than any of the former ones.

The godfather came afterwards to see Arthur, who believed him more than
all the doctors when he assured him he was making progress. Arthur
began to speak of the debt; he wished before his father went to have
a settlement of accounts, take steps for selling his commission, and
repaying Percy.

'No,' said Percy, 'wait till you are better and can look about you.
Sell your commission indeed, and take the bread out of your children's
mouths! No, if you did choose to do that, it must in honour and justice
be divided among all your creditors.'

Arthur was forced to give up.

Emma Brandon had not joined the christening party. Miss Marstone
had actually written to Mark Gardner, and had in reply received an
acknowledgment of her 'good offices, which had gone far to enable him
to justify the bets that before Christmas he would have a wife with
ten thousand pounds a year!' He did not quite venture to insult Miss
Brandon, but sent her a cool message of farewell. The rest of the
letter, the friends declared, was evidently by Mrs. Finch's dictation.
They shut themselves up together; Lady Elizabeth was not allowed to help
her daughter, and came to Cadogan-place chiefly that she might talk over
her troubles with Theodora, who put her into communication with
Percy, and from him she heard a brief sketch of Mr. Gardner's life and
adventures, still less disposing her to desire him as a son-in-law.

She was certainly safe from this danger, but her cares were not thus
ended. If Emma would have shared her griefs with her, and admitted her
attempts at consolation, she would have been more at ease, but as it
was, Emma was reserved with her, and attached herself solely to Theresa
Marstone, whom she even made a sort of interpreter between her and her
mother, so that Lady Elizabeth only knew as much of her mind as her
confidante chose to communicate.

Not only was this most painful to her feelings as a mother, but she had
serious doubts of the safety of such a companion. The extreme silliness
of Theresa's vanity and exclusiveness had long been visible, and as it
was the you