'Better not.'
'And this is your boy. His mother?' he added, with more hesitation; and it brought a fierce look.
'Never had one in any real sense. She left him at ten months old—always hated him. But he's all right. You'll find the certificate in that old green case.'
'Of his baptism?'
'No. Such matters don't come handy here, and she wasn't one to concern herself about them. I don't know that she was the better for that! No: it's my marriage lines! I kept them for his sake, though I gnashed my teeth at them often enough.'
'Pray let me baptize him!' entreated Ferdinand, with an imploring accent, contrasting so curiously with his bronzed face and black beard, that Edgar again smiled, saying, 'You've not turned parson?'
'No, but this is a case of necessity.'
'Oh! all's one to me,' interrupted Edgar, with a sort of instinctive sneer to cut short a Clementine discourse; 'since this business must come to their ears at home, they may as well be at peace about one of us.'
'And his name?'
'His eyes—you'll never see them—but they have so much little Cherry's wistful look, that I've called him Gerald; you may tack Felix to it. No mockery! He's been the happiest little soul that ever was born, happiest maybe if he goes on as he is, knowing nothing about it.'