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Updated: June 1, 2025
Wilford turned his eyes quickly upon his mother, who continued: "I did not think of her, it is true, until Miss Hazelton inquired about baby's name, and said she understood from Katy that it was to be Genevra. Then it came to me whose her voice was like. Genevra's, you know, was very musical."
That was Katy's choice, I understand," Morris replied, and Wilford bowed his head, wishing the Genevra across the sea might know that his child bore her name. "Perhaps she does," he thought, and his heart grew warm with the fancy that possibly in that other world, whose existence he never really doubted, the Genevra he had wronged would care for his child, if children there need care.
It is true he had not doubted her death before, but as seeing was believing, so now he felt sure of it, and plucking from the turf above her a little flower growing there, he went back to Katy and sitting down beside her with his arm around her waist, tried to devise some way of telling her what he had promised himself he would tell her there in that very yard, where Genevra was buried.
All this tommy-rot about Bobby and me wouldn't exist if that wretched Chase man had been a little more affable. He never noticed us until you came. No wife to snoop after him and why, my dear, he would have been ideal." "It's all very nice, Agnes, but you forget your husband," said Genevra, with a tolerant smile. "Deppy? Oh, my dear," and she laughed gaily once more. "Deppy doesn't mind.
"Of Genevra," was the answer, and Katy continued: "Did I mention no one else?" Morris guessed of whom she was thinking, and answered, indifferently: "You spoke of Miss Hazelton in connection with baby, but that was all." Katy was satisfied, and closing her eyes fell away to sleep again, while Morris made his preparations for leaving.
From beneath his hair the great sweat drops came pouring, as he tried to approach her and take the uplifted hands, motioning him aside with the words: "Not touch me; no, not touch me till you have told me who is Genevra Lambert." She repeated the question twice, and rallying all his strength Wilford answered her at last: "Genevra Lambert was my wife!"
Years before, when Genevra was the wife, jealousy had made Wilford almost a madman, and it now held him again in its powerful grasp, whispering suggestions he would have spurned in a calm frame of mind.
Once he dreamed Genevra was there that she came to him just as she was in her beautiful girlhood that her fingers threaded his hair as they used to do in their happy days at Brighton that her hand was on his brow, her breath upon his face, and with a start he awoke just as the rustle of female garments died away in the hall. "The new nurse in the second ward has been in here," a comrade said.
You've got no wings, Genevra; but it's of no consequence, as you have no one to fly away from." "Or to, you might add," laughed Genevra. "That's very American. You've been talking to Miss Pelham. She's always adding things. By the way, Mr. Chase sees quite a lot of her. She types for him. I fancy she's trying to choose between him and Mr. Saunders. If you were she, dear, which would you choose?"
"What is it, Wilford what is the matter?" she asked, as her brother turned whiter than his child, and struck his hand upon his head as if a blow had fallen there. Had "Genevra Lambert, aged twenty-two," met his eye, he could not have been more startled than he was; but soon rallying, he said to Morris, who came near: "The child was baptized then?" "Yes, baptized Genevra.
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