re. Reaching home, he sought Juliet. He found her in
her oldest wrapper, her face red with weeping, her hair frightfully
unkempt.

"Juliet," he began, kindly, "I would never have given Johnnie that
name--"

"But you did give it to him," interrupted Juliet.

"I did; but giving very little heed to the name. You were very
dangerously sick. The physician declared you could not live six hours,
unless change took place for the better. The child had been ailing. I
thought of baptism for both of you--to the child it could be given. I
ordered a carriage, put the nurse and child in and drove to Father
Duffy's. I had not thought of the name until asked by the priest. In the
confusion of the moment I gave it as I did. I should not have insisted
on the name had you been with me. It should have been anything you
wished. When he becomes old enough to be confirmed the name can be
changed."

"His name shall never be written with a P. It shall be written J. St.
Leger Temple. I will get Dr. Browne to put it upon the Registry. Does
Father Duffy record names too?"

Mr. Temple replying in the affirmative, the young mother became seized
with another spasm of terror.

"Then Father Duffy believes he has got that child in the Catholic
Church, I suppose! O, what a fearful piece of work you have made of it!
No doubt, like King Solomon, he will be for dividing the child, that he
may get at least half its soul for purgatory. And if I had died, you
would have brought up dear little Johnnie a Catholic! Your great hurry
for his baptism shows it. That is the regard you would have shown for my
memory! But I am not dead yet; and while I live, the child goes with me
to St Mark's. I will still do all _I_ can to bring him up respectably."

A day or two after appeared in the city a foreign songstress who was
setting the whole world mad. John Temple took his wife to hear her. She
threw off, as they had been a bundle of straw, all these troubles that
had so crazed her. She unlocked the best chamber, went in, and came out
looking beautiful as when a bride. Among her friends again she appeared
as if no cloud of sorrow had ever darkened her life.

John Temple recognized his wife again. By these repeated scenes of
sunshine and storm, he learned to rejoice in the one, and to remain
undisturbed in the other; against the exuberance of one to present the
parasol of calmness, and the umbrella of patience to ward off descending
floods.

Three years later, one