t a thought, caring more for
the rite she had deferred so long.

"He must hasten," she said to Morris, her eyes fixed upon the panting
child she had lifted to her own lap, and thus abjured the clergyman
failed to make the usual inquiry concerning the name he was to give.

Calm and white as a marble statue, Marian Hazelton glided to the back of
Katy's chair, pressing both her hands upon it, and leaning over Katy so
that her eyes too were fixed upon the little face, from which they never
turned but once, and that when the clergyman's voice was heard asking
for a name. There was an instant's silence, and Katy's lips began to
move, when one of Marian's hands was laid upon her head, while the other
took in its own the limp, while baby fingers, and Marian's voice was
very steady in its tone as it said: "Genevra."

"Yes, Genevra," Katy whispered, and then the solemn words were heard:
"Genevra, I baptize thee in the name of the Father, the Son, and the
Holy Ghost."

Softly the baptismal waters fell upon the pale forehead, and at their
touch the little Genevra's eyes unclosed, the waxen fingers withdrew
themselves from Marian's grasp, and again sought the mother's cheek,
resting there for an instant; while a smile broke around the baby lips,
which tried to say "Mam-ma." Then the hand fell back, down upon
Marian's, the soft eyes closed, the limbs grew rigid, the shadow of
death grew deeper, and while the prayer was said, and Marian's tears
fell with Katy's upon the brow where the baptismal waters were not
dried, the angel came, and when the prayer was ended, Morris, who knew
what the rest did not, took the lifeless form from Katy's lap, and
whispered to her gently: "Katy, your baby is dead!"

An hour later, and the sweet little creature, which had been a sunbeam
in that house for a few happy days, lay upon the bed where Katy said it
must be laid; its form shrouded in the christening robe which Grandma
Cameron had bought, flowers upon its pillow, flowers upon its bosom,
flowers in its hands, which Marian had put there; for Marian's was the
mind which thought of everything concerning the dead child; and Helen,
as she watched her, wondered at the mighty love which showed itself in
every lineament of her face, the blue veins swelling in her forehead,
her eyes bloodshot, and her lips shut firmly together, as if it were by
mere strength of will that she kept back the scalding tears as she
dressed the little Genevra. They spoke of