THE NAME.
Wilford had wished for a son, and in the first moment of disappointment he had almost been conscious of a half-resentful feeling toward Katy, who had given him only a daughter. A boy, a Cameron heir, was something of which to be proud, especially as Jamie would always remain a helpless cripple; but a little girl, scarcely larger than the last doll with which Katy had played, was a different thing, and it required all Wilford's philosophy and common sense to keep him from showing his chagrin to the girlish creature, whose love had fastened with an idolatrous grasp upon her child, clinging to it with a devotion which made Helen tremble as she thought what if God should take it from her.
"He won't, oh, He won't," Katy had said, when once she suggested the possibility, and in the eyes usually so soft and gentle there was a fierce gleam, as Katy hugged her baby closer to her, and said:
"God does not willfully torment us. He will not take my baby, when my whole life would die with it. I had almost forgotten to pray, there was so much else to do, till baby came, but now I never go to sleep at night or waken in the morning, that there does not come a prayer of thanks for baby given to me. I could hardly love God if He took her away."
There was a chill feeling at Helen's heart as she listened to her sister and then glanced at the baby so passionately loved. In time it would be pretty, for it had Katy's perfect features, and the hair just beginning to grow was a soft, golden brown; but it was too small now, too puny to be handsome, while in its eyes there was a scared, hunted kind of look, which chafed Wilford more than aught else could have done, for that was the look which had crept into Katy's eyes at Newport when she found she was not going home. Still it was a Cameron, of royal lineage, loved at least by four, its mother, its grandfather, Helen and Jamie, while the others looked forward to a time when they should be proud of it, even if they were not so now.
Many discussions had been held at the elder Cameron's concerning its name, Mrs. Cameron deciding finally that it should bear her own, Margaret Augusta, while Juno advocated that of Rose Marie, inasmuch as their new clergyman would Frenchify the pronunciation so perfectly, rolling the "_r_," and placing so much accent on the last syllable. At this the Father Cameron swore as cussed nonsense—"better call it Jemima, a grand sight, than saddle it with such a silly name as Rose Mah-ree, with a roll to the 'r,'" and with another oath the disgusted old man departed, while Bell suggested that Katy might wish to have a voice in naming her own child.
This was a possibility that had formed no part of Mrs. Cameron's thoughts, or Juno's. Of course Katy would acquiesce in whatever Wilford said was best, and he always thought as they did. Consequently there would be no trouble whatever. It was time the child had a name—time it wore the elegant christening robe, Mrs. Cameron's gift, which cost more money than would have fed a hungry family for weeks. The matter must be decided, and so with a view of deciding it a family dinner party was held at No. —— Fifth Avenue, the day succeeding the call on Marian Hazleton.
Very pure and beautiful Katy looked as she once more took her old place in the chair they called hers at Father Cameron's, because it was the one she had always preferred to any other—a large, motherly easy-chair, which took in nearly the whole of her petite figure, and against whose soft cushioned back she leaned her curly head with a pretty air of importance, as after dinner was over, she came back to the parlor with the other ladies, waiting for the gentlemen to join them, when they were to talk up baby's name.
Katy knew exactly what it would be called, but as Wilford had never asked her, she was keeping it a secret, not doubting that the others would be quite as much delighted as herself with the novel name, "Genevra." Not long before her illness she had read an English story, which had in it a Genevra, and she had at once seized upon it as the most delightful cognomen a person could well possess. "Genevra Cameron!" She had repeated it to herself many a time as she sat with her baby on her lap. She had written it on sundry slips of paper, which had afterward found their way into the grate; and once she had scratched with her diamond ring upon the window pane in her dressing-room, where it now stood in legible characters, "Genevra Cameron!" There should be no middle name to take from the sweetness of the first—only Genevra—that was sufficient; and the little lady tapped her foot impatiently upon the carpet, wishing Wilford and father would hurry and come in.
Never for an instant had it entered her mind that she, as the mother, would not be permitted to call her baby what she chose; so when she heard Mrs. Cameron speaking to Helen of Margaret Augusta, she smiled complacently, tossing her curls of golden brown, and thinking to herself, "Maggie Cameron—pretty enough, but not like Genevra. Indeed I shall not have any Margarets now; next time perhaps I may."
Since the party at Mrs. Grandon's, Mrs. Cameron had been very kind and gracious to Helen, while Juno, who understood that Helen believed her engaged to Mark, treated her with far more attention than before, and now both kept near to her, chatting familiarly, Mrs. Cameron about the opera, and Juno the matinée, to which they were to take her, without waiting for Katy. Helen's success at the party, together with Mrs. Banker's and Sybil's evident determination to bring her forward, had taught them that she could not well be longer ignored, and as Juno did not greatly dread her as a rival now, she could afford to be gracious; and she was, making herself so agreeable that Helen observed the change, imputing it to the fact that Mark had probably returned to his allegiance, and blaming herself for having unwittingly wounded Juno by receiving his attentions. The belief that she was adding to another's happiness made it easier to bear the pang, which would make itself felt whenever she recalled the kindly manner, the handsome face, and more than all the expressive eyes, which had looked whole volumes into hers; and Helen quite enjoyed her first dinner party at the Camerons, though she began to wish, with Katy, that the gentlemen would join them.
They came at last, and Father Cameron drew his chair close to Katy's side, laying his hand on her little soft, warm one, giving it a squeeze as the bright face glanced lovingly into his. Father Cameron was a milder, gentler man than he was before Katy came, going much oftener into society, and not so frequently shocking his wife with expressions and opinions which she held as heterodox. Katy had a softening influence over him, and he loved her as well perhaps as he had ever loved his own children.
"Better," Juno said, and now she touched Bell's arm, to have her see "how father was petting Katy."
But Bell did not care, while Wilford was pleased, and drew himself nearer the chair, standing just behind it, so that Katy could not see him as he smoothed her curly head, and said, half indifferently, "Now for the all-important name. What shall we call our daughter?"
"Let your mother speak first," Katy said, and thus appealed to Mrs. Cameron came up to Wilford and expressed her preference for Margaret, as being a good name—an aristocratic name, and her own.
"Yes, but not half so pretty and striking as Rose Marie," Juno chimed in.
"Rose Mary! Thunder!" Father Cameron exclaimed. "Call her a marygold, or a sunflower, just as much. Don't go to being fools by giving a child a heathenish name. Give us your opinion, Katy."
"I have known from the first," Katy replied, "and I am sure you will agree with me. Tis such a beautiful name of a sweet young girl, and there was a great secret about her, too—Genevra, baby will be called," and Katy looked straight into the fire, wholly unconscious of the effect that name had produced upon two of her auditors, Wilford and his mother.
They did not faint, like Marian, but Wilford's face was white as marble, and his eyes turned quickly to his mother, who, in her first shock, started so violently as to throw down from the stand a costly vase, which was broken in many pieces. This occasioned a little diversion, and by the time the flowers and fragments were gathered up, Wilford's lips were not quite as livid, but he dared not trust his voice yet, and listened while his sisters gave their opinion of the name. Bell deciding for it at once, and Juno hesitating until she had heard from a higher power than Katy. One there was in that family council who seized upon it eagerly. Jamie had been brought into the parlor in his wheel-chair, and sat leaning his cheek upon his hand when the name was spoken. Then, with a sudden lighting up of his face, he exclaimed, "Genevra! I've heard it before. Where was it, grandma? Didn't you talk of it once with—"
"Hush-h, Jamie. Don't interrupt us now," Wilford said, in a voice so much sterner than he was wont to use when addressing the little boy, that Jamie shrank back abashed and frightened; while Mrs. Cameron, still with her back to Katy, asked, what had put that fanciful name into her mind? Where had she heard it?
Katy explained, and, with the removal of the fear which for a few moments had chilled his blood, Wilford grew calm again; while into his heart there crept the thought that by giving that name to his child some slight atonement might be made to the occupant of that grave in St. Mary's churchyard—to her above whose head the English daisies had blossomed and faded many a year. But not so with his mother—the child should not be called Genevra if she could prevent it; and she opposed it with all her powers, offering at last, as a great concession on her part, to let it bear the name of any of Katy's family—Hannah and Betsy mentally excepted, of course—Lucy Lennox, Helen Lennox, Katy Lennox, anything but Genevra. As usual, Wilford when he had learned her mind, joined with her, notwithstanding the secret preference, and the discussion became quite warm, especially as Katy evinced a willfulness for which Helen had never given her credit. Hitherto she had been as yielding as wax, but on this point she was firm, gathering strength from the fact that Wilford did not oppose her as he usually did. She could not, perhaps, have resisted him, but his manner was not very decided, and so she quietly persisted. "Genevra, or nothing," until the others gave up the contest, hoping she would feel differently after a few days' reflection. But Katy knew she shouldn't; and Helen could not overcome the exultation with which she saw her little sister put the Camerons to rout and remain master of the field.
"After all it does not matter," Mrs. Cameron said to her daughters, when, after Mrs. Wilford had gone, she sat talking of Katy's queer fancy and her obstinacy in adhering to it. "It does not matter; and on the whole I had as soon the christening would be postponed until the child is more presentable than now. It will be prettier by and by, and the dress will become it better. We can afford to wait."
This heartless view of the case was readily adopted by Juno, while Bell professed to be terribly shocked at hearing them talk thus of a baptism, as if it were a mere show and nothing more, wondering if the Savior thought either of dress or personal appearance when the Hebrew mothers brought their children to Him. But little did Mrs. Cameron or Juno care for the baptism except as a display, and as both would be much prouder of a fine looking child, they were well content to wait until such time as Katy should incline more favorably to their Margaret or Rose Marie. To Helen it seemed highly probable that after a private interview with Wilford Katy would change her mind, and she felt a wickedly agreeable degree of disappointment when, on the day following the dinner party, she found her sister even more resolved than ever upon having her own way. Like the Camerons, she did not feel the necessity of haste—time enough by and by, when she would not have so much opposition to encounter, she said; and as Wilford did not care, it was finally arranged that they would wait a while, ere they gave a cognomen to the little nameless child, only known as Baby Cameron.