entreating him to do the cure thoroughly, and suggesting that they
should call the little girl Matilda, after a rich and sainted--though
still living--aunt of Edith's. It might be an advantage to the child's
future (in every sense) to have a godmother so wealthy and so
religious. It appeared from the detailed description that the new
daughter had, as a matter of course (and at two days old), long golden
hair, far below her waist, sweeping lashes and pencilled brows, a
rosebud mouth, an intellectual forehead, chiselled features and a tall,
elegant figure. She was a magnificent, regal-looking creature and was a
superb beauty of the classic type, and yet with it she was dainty and
winsome. She had great talent for music. This, it appeared, was shown
by the breadth between the eyes and the timbre of her voice.

Overwhelmed with joy at the advent of such a paragon, and horrified at
Edith's choice of a name, Bruce had replied at once by wire,
impulsively:

_'Certainly not Matilda I would rather she were called Aspasia.'_

Edith read this expression of feeling on a colourless telegraph form,
and as she was, at Knightsbridge, unable to hear the ironical tone of
the message she took it literally.

She criticised the name, but was easily persuaded by her mother-in-law
to make no objection. The elder Mrs Ottley pointed out that it might
have been very much worse.

'But it's not a pretty name,' objected Edith. 'If it wasn't to be
Matilda, I should rather have called her something out of
Maeterlinck--Ygraine, or Ysolyn--something like that.'