CHAPTER XXIII.

BABY’S NAME.

Wilford had wished for a son, and in the first moment of disappointment he had almost been conscious of a resentful feeling toward Katy, who had given him only a daughter. A boy, a Cameron heir, was something of which to be proud; 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 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 scaled, 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.

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 with a view of deciding it, a family dinner party was held at No.——, Fifth Avenue, the day succeeding Sybil Grandon’s party.

Very pure and beautiful Katy looked as she 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, and waited 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. 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 in her lap. She had written it on sundry slips of paper, which had afterwards 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 his 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.”

The gentlemen came at last, and father Cameron drew his chair close to Katy’s side, laying his hand on her little soft warm one, and giving it a squeeze as the bright face glanced lovingly into his. Father Cameron had grown a milder, gentler man since Katy came. He now went much oftener into society, and did not so frequently shock 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 himself drew 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 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 Wilford and his mother.

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 so 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.

“What put that fanciful name into your head?” Mrs. Cameron asked.

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 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 either of Katy’s family—Hannah and Betsy excepted, of course Lucy Lennox, Helen Lennox, Katy Lennox, anything but Genevra. As usual, Wilford, when he learned her mind, joined with her, notwithstanding his 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