l pay you quarterly installments of
money amounting to six hundred dollars a year for the support of the
child."

The overseer's wife was a very simple-hearted woman, so she burst out,
with her surprise:

"But that is a great deal of money, sir. More than twice too much."

"I do not think so. The child is entitled to much more, if she could use
it. At any rate, that is her allowance. And here is the first quarterly
payment in advance," said Mr. Berners, placing a roll of bank-notes on
the woman's lap.

"But, sir, I haven't used a quarter part of what the other gentleman
paid me. In truth, I only spent what I did to buy the baby's clothes, of
which she hadn't a rag but what was on her when the other gentleman put
her in my arms."

"So much the more reason I should advance you this money."

"Why? because I have got so much already, sir?"

"--Because you are so simple and honest. Few people would believe in
such simplicity and honesty, Mrs. Fugitt."

"Then Lord forgive 'em, sir."

"Amen. And now, Mrs. Fugitt, a last word, and then good-bye. If you
should ever wish to communicate with me, you may do it by inclosing a
letter to Mr. Sheridan, or sending a message by him."

"Yes, sir."

"And now let me take another look at this little one."

"But there is another thing, sir: What is her name? I asked the
gentleman, and he said he did not know, but you would tell me."

"'Her name?'" repeated Lyon Berners, as he gazed down upon the face of
the sleeping child--the prison-born child--"Her name? It is Ingemisca;
call her Ingemisca."

"Yes, sir," said the woman in a very low tone, for she was awed by the
looks and words of the speaker--"Yes, sir; but would you please to write
it on a slip of paper? It is a strange, solemn sort of a sound, and I'm
sure I never could remember it."

Lyon Berners tore a page from his tablets, wrote the name in pencil, and
handed it to her.

Then he kissed his infant daughter, breathed a silent blessing over her,
and took his leave.

He returned to Black Hall, well satisfied with the woman in whose care
he had left his child.

That afternoon he dined with his friends for the last time for many
years. That evening, with their assistance, he concluded the very last
business he had to transact, before leaving his home and country.

Beatrix Pendleton had been busy all day, looking up and packing up
Sybil's costly jewels, laces, and shawls. Valuable as they all were,
they filled but