“But not less pious was the ardent pray’r
That rose spontaneously.”
“Look at him! Is he not a beauteous boy?”
The christening was quite a splendid festival. A number of friends and relations, among whom was Lady Theodosia R., became inmates of Lodore House for the occasion. All the neighbourhood was invited to join their party for the day; and the tenantry and poor people entertained on the lawn and borders of the lake; while the inhabitants of the town of Keswick illuminated their houses to show their respect and affection for the family.
The names of Julia and Frances were given to the little girls. The ceremony was over, and Edmund, who had been dressed very sprucely for the great occasion, was standing near one of the nurses, endeavouring to pacify his baby, as he invariably called the eldest of the twins. The young lady was evincing her displeasure at the drops of cold water which had visited, so suddenly, the nice warm glow produced on her cheek by the full lace border of her cap, and the sheltering shawl of her nurse.
Mrs. Montgomery, who was looking on much amused at the little manœuvres of Edmund, naturally recollected (the whole business being about names) that he, poor fellow, had but one appellation, and though that did very well now, the case would be altered when he began to go among strangers, when some sort of surname would become quite indispensable. She chanced to express her thoughts on the subject (in an under tone of course) to Lady L. and Mr. Jackson, who were standing near her, adding, that as there was no name over which she had so good a right as her own, she thought he had better in future be called Montgomery.
“Are you quite determined, madam?” asked Mr. Jackson.
“Yes, quite,” she replied.
“Come here, then, my dear little fellow!” proceeded the worthy clergyman, addressing Edmund in an elevated tone.
Edmund obeyed timidly, but immediately.