"I have decided on the godfathers already. Thomas Carr will be one, and I intend to be the other."
"Thomas Carr! A poor hard-working barrister, that not a soul knows, and of no family or influence whatever, godfather to the future Lord Hartledon!" uttered the offended mother.
"I wish it, Maude. Carr is the most valued friend I have in the world, or ever can have. Oblige me in this."
"Then my brother can be the other."
"No; I myself; and I wish you would be its godmother."
"Well, it's quite reversing the order of things!" she said, tacitly conceding the point.
A silence ensued. The firelight played on the lace curtains of the baby's bed, as it did on Lady Hartledon's face; a thoughtful face just now. Twilight was drawing on, and the fire lighted the room.
"Percival, do you care for the child?"
The tone had a sound of passion in it, breaking upon the silence. Lord Hartledon lifted his bent face and glanced at his wife.
"Do I care for the child, Maude? What a question! I do care for him: more than I allow to appear."