s voice.

"He had to be Philip. It is a pretty name, though we may have reason to
mourn the day--and belongs to his family. We must not forget that he
belongs to a known family, however he may have suffered by it."

"Then you intend the child to know about his family? I am glad to hear
it," said John, though his voice perhaps was not so sweet as his words.

"Oh, John, that is quite another thing! to know about his family--at
two! He has his mother--and me to take care of them both, and what does
he want more?"

"But he will not always be two," said John, the first moment almost of
his arrival, before he had seen the house, or said a word about the
lake, or anything. She was so disappointed and cast down that she made
him no reply.

"I am a wretched croaker," he said, after a moment, "I know. I ought
after all this time to try to make myself more agreeable; but you must
pardon me if this was the first thing that came into my mind. Elinor is
looking a great deal better than when I saw her last."

"Isn't she! another creature. I don't say that I am satisfied, John. Who
would be satisfied in such a position of affairs? but while the child is
so very young nothing matters very much. And she is quite happy. I do
think she is quite happy. And so well--this country suits them both
perfectly. Though there is a good deal of rain, they are both out every
day. And little Pippo thrives, as you see, like a flower."

"That is a very fantastic name to give the child."

"How critical you are, John! perhaps it is, but what does it matter at
his age? any name does for a baby. Why, you yourself, as grave as you
are now----"

"Don't, aunt," said John. "It is a grave matter enough as it appears to
me."

"Not for the present; not for the present, John."

"Perhaps not for the present: if you prefer to put off all the
difficulties till they grow up and crush you. Have there been any
overtures, all this time, from--the other side?"

"Dear John, don't overwhelm me all in a moment, in the first pleasure of
seeing you, both with the troubles that are behind and the troubles that
are in front of us," the poor lady said.

CHAPTER XXXI.

The weather was fine, which was by no means always a certainty at
Waterdale, and Elinor had become a great pedestrian, and was ready to
accompany John in his walks, which were long and varied. It was rather a
curious test to which to subject himself after the long time he had been
away, and t