“And so you laugh at her maternal folly,” said Justina smiling, but not displeased at what sounded like disparagement of an attractive young woman.

“I laugh at it?—­yes! but as a man who feels that it is the one lovely folly of the world.  Who could bear to think of all that childhood demands of womanhood, if he did not bear in mind the sweet delusive glamour that washes every woman’s eyes ere she catches sight of the small mortal sent to be her charge.”

Then Justina, who had found a few moments for recovering herself and deciding how to act, took the conversation again into her own hands, and very soon, in spite of Emily, who did not dare to interfere again, John Mortimer was brought quite naturally and inevitably to add to the desire that they would the next day visit his children, an invitation to luncheon after he should have returned.

Justina accepted.

“But it must not be this day week,” she observed with quiet complacency, “for that is to be the baby’s christening day, and I am asked to be his godmother.”

Emily could not forbear to look up; John’s face was quite a study.  He had just been asked to stand for the child, had consented, and whom he might have for companions he had not thought of asking.

“It will be the first anniversary of their wedding,” said Emily by way of saying something, for John’s silence began to be awkward.

Mrs. Brandon, having been charmed with the sensible serenity of Miss Fairbairn’s conversation, and with the candour and straightforwardness that distinguished her, had cultivated her acquaintance with assiduity, and was at that moment thinking how fortunate she was in her baby’s sponsors.

When Justina found that John Mortimer was to be present at this christening, and in such a capacity too, she accomplished the best blush her cheek had worn for years.  It was almost like an utterance, so completely did it make her feelings known.  As for John, he had very seldom in his life looked as foolish as he did then.

Why had he been asked together with Miss Fairbairn?  Whatever he might have thought concerning her, his thought was his own; he had never made it manifest by paying her the least attention.  He did not like her now so well as he might have done, if he had not tried and failed to make himself like her more.  She was almost the only woman now concerning whom he felt strongly that she would not do for him.  Surely people did not think he had any intentions towards her.  He sat silent and discomfited till Emily, again quite aware of his feelings, and sure he wanted to go, made the opportunity for him, helped him to take advantage of it, and received a somewhat significant smile of thanks as he departed.

“Emily,” exclaimed Justina, as soon as the door was shut, “what can you be thinking of?  You almost dismissed Mr. Mortimer!  Surely, surely you cannot wish to prevent his coming here to see me.”