“Give her the name of her mother, then,” said Sir Charles.
“How do you know it?” exclaimed several voices.
“The mother of us all,” replied the judge, smiling.
“Oh dear, yes! Let her be called Eva rather,” exclaimed Mrs Clayton, delighted. “It is a sweetly pretty name, and not often used.”
“I meant simply Eve; but Eva is an improvement on my idea,” said Sir Charles.
“Eva, Eva,” was pronounced in chorus by all the party; and by that name my little sister was afterwards christened. Thus this important matter was finally arranged.
Several days passed away without the occurrence of anything worthy of note, that I have heard of. My little sister slowly gained strength and health under the careful nursing of Mrs Clayton.
One fine day, sweet Ellen Barrow was, as usual, romping with me about the deck—now running after me—now catching hold of me to fondle me, and then letting me go for the sake of again chasing me; and though I struggled and screamed when she overtook me, I cannot say that I was either alarmed, or that I disliked the treatment I received. Sir Charles was calmly watching us all the time, with a smile on his countenance. At last the young lady, weary with her exertions, threw herself into a seat, while I came and nestled by her side. After looking at us for a few minutes he came nearer to her.
“My dear young lady,” he said, “will you answer me a question?”
“A hundred, Sir Charles,” she answered, “if you are kind enough to ask them; for I do not think you will prove a censorious father confessor.”