"I should like it to be Walter," said Mrs. Hamlyn.

"_Walter!_"

"Yes, I should. I like the name for itself, but I once had a dear little
brother named Walter, just a year younger than I. He died before we came
home to England. Have you any objection to the name?"

"Oh, no, no objection," he slowly said. "I was only thinking whether you
would have any. It was the name given to my first child."

"That can make no possible difference--it was not my child," was her
haughty answer. So the baby was named Walter James; the latter name also
chosen by Eliza, because it had been old Mr. Monk's.

In the following spring Mr. Hamlyn had to go to the West Indies. Eliza
remained at home; and during this time she became reconciled to her
father.

Hubert brought it about. For Hubert lived yet. But he was just a shadow
and had to take entirely to the house, and soon to his room. Eliza came
to see him, again and again; and finally over Hubert's sofa peace was
made--for Captain Monk loved her still, just as he had loved Katherine,
for all her rebellion.

Hubert lingered on to the summer. And then, on a calm evening, when one
of the glorious sunsets that he had so loved to look upon was illumining
the western sky, opening up to his dying view, as he had once said, the
very portals of Heaven, he passed peacefully away to his rest.