o
won by Olivia's admiration of her baby, that the thin crust of ice
melted from her like the arctic snows before a Greenland summer.

I was not in the least surprised when, two days or so before we left
Guernsey, Julia spoke to us with some solemnity of tone and expression.

"My dear, Olivia," she said, "and you, Martin, Arnold and I would
consider it a token of your friendship for us both, if you two would
stand as sponsors for our child."

"With the greatest pleasure, Julia," I replied; and Olivia crossed the
hearth to kiss her, and sat down on the sofa at her side.

"We have decided upon calling her Olivia," continued Julia, stroking my
wife's hand with a caressing touch--"Olivia Carey! That sounds extremely
well, and is quite new in the island. I think it sounds even better than
Olivia Dobree."

As we all agreed that no name could sound better, or be newer in
Guernsey, that question was immediately settled. There was no time for
delay, and the next morning we carried the child to church to be
christened. As we were returning homeward, Julia, whose face had worn
its softest expression, pressed my arm with a clasp which made me look
down upon her questioningly. Her eyes were filled with tears, and her
mouth quivered. Olivia and Captain Carey were walking on in front, at a
more rapid pace than ours, so that we were in fact alone.

"What is the matter?" I asked, hastily.

"O Martin!" she exclaimed, "we are both so happy, after all! I wish my
poor, darling aunt could only have foreseen this! but, don't you think,
as we are both so happy, we might just go and see my poor uncle? Kate
Daltrey is away in Jersey, I know that for certain, and he is alone. It
would give him so much pleasure. Surely you can forgive him now."

"By all means let us go," I answered. I had not heard even his name
mentioned before, by any one of my old friends in Guernsey. But, as
Julia said, I was so happy, that I was ready to forgive and forget all
ancient grievances. Olivia and Captain Carey were already out of sight;
and we turned into a street leading to Vauvert Road.

"They live in lodgings now," remarked Julia, as we went slowly up the
steep street, "and nobody visits them; not one of my uncle's old
friends. They have plenty to live upon, but it is all her money. I do
not mean to let them got upon visiting terms with me--at least, not Kate
Daltrey. You know the house, Martin?"

I knew nearly every house in St. Peter-Port, but this