many years, and she hopes not then."

"Are you quite sure that you have not made any mistake in all this?"

"Oh, no; because Mrs Burne, you know, called here a few days ago, and I
was sent for to be looked at. And mamma held me out at arm's length and
said, 'Is he Mr Pontifex's child, Mrs Burne, or is he mine?' Of course,
she couldn't have said this if papa had not had some of the children
himself. I did think the gentleman had all the boys and the lady all the
girls; but it can't be like this, or else mamma would not have asked Mrs
Burne to guess; but then Mrs Burne said, 'Oh, he's Mr Pontifex's child
_of course_,' and I didn't quite know what she meant by saying 'of
course': it seemed as though I was right in thinking that the husband has
all the boys and the wife all the girls; I wish you would explain to me
all about it."

This I could hardly do, so I changed the conversation, after reassuring
him as best I could.

CHAPTER XXV

Three or four years after the birth of her daughter, Christina had had
one more child. She had never been strong since she married, and had a
presentiment that she should not survive this last confinement. She
accordingly wrote the following letter, which was to be given, as she
endorsed upon it, to her sons when Ernest was sixteen years old. It
reached him on his mother's death many years later, for it was the baby
who died now, and not Christina. It was found among papers which she had
repeatedly and carefully arranged, with the seal already broken. This, I
am afraid, shows that Christina had read it and thought it too creditable
to be destroyed when the occasion that had called it forth had gone by.
It is as follows--

"BATTERSBY, March 15th, 1841.

"My Two Dear Boys,--When this is put into your hands will you try to
bring to mind the mother whom you lost in your childhood, and whom, I
fear, you will almost have forgotten? You, Ernest, will remember her
best, for you are past five years old, and the many, many times that
she has taught you your prayers and hymns and sums and told you
stories, and our happy Sunday evenings will not quite have passed from
your mind, and you, Joey, though only four, will perhaps recollect
some of these things. My dear, dear boys, for the sake of that mother
who loved you very dearly--and for the sake of your own happiness for
ever and ever--attend to and try to remember, and from time to time
read