“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