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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..64e5419 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69954 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69954) diff --git a/old/69954-0.txt b/old/69954-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e45a9d6..0000000 --- a/old/69954-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,16018 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Cameron pride, by Mary Jane Holmes - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Cameron pride - or purified by suffering - -Author: Mary Jane Holmes - -Release Date: February 4, 2023 [eBook #69954] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from - images generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CAMERON PRIDE *** - - -[Illustration: Mary J Holmes] - - - - - THE CAMERON PRIDE - OR - PURIFIED BY SUFFERING - A Novel - - - BY - MRS. MARY J. HOLMES - - AUTHOR OF “TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE,” “HUGH WORTHINGTON,” “LENA RIVERS,” - ETC., ETC. - - - NEW YORK - HURST & COMPANY - PUBLISHERS - - - - - MARY J. HOLMES SERIES - - UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME - - By MARY J. HOLMES - - Aikenside. - Bad Hugh. - Cousin Maude. - Darkness and Daylight. - Dora Deane. - Edith Lyle’s Secret. - English Orphans, The. - Ethelyn’s Mistake. - Family Pride. - Homestead on the Hillside, The. - Hugh Worthington. - Leighton Homestead, The. - Lena Rivers. - Maggie Miller. - Marion Grey. - Meadow Brook. - Mildred; or, The Child of Adoption. - Millbank; or, Roger Irving’s Ward. - Miss McDonald. - Rector of St. Marks, The. - Rosamond. - Rose Mather. - Tempest and Sunshine. - - _Price, postpaid, 50c. each, or any three books for $1.25_ - - HURST & COMPANY - PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK - - - - - TO - - MY BROTHER, - - Kirke Hawes, - - IN MEMORY OF THE OCTOBER DAY WHEN WE RAMBLED OVER THE - - SILVERTON HILLS, - - WHERE MORRIS AND KITTY LIVED, - - THIS VOLUME - - IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. - - _Brown Cottage, February 22, 1867._ - - - - - CONTENTS. - - - CHAPTER PAGE - I. The Farm-house at Silverton 7 - II. Linwood 19 - III. Wilford Cameron 26 - IV. Preparing for the Visit 35 - V. Wilford’s Visit 41 - VI. In the Spring 51 - VII. Wilford’s Second Visit 58 - VIII. Getting Ready to be Married 68 - IX. Before the Marriage 79 - X. Marriage at St. John’s 85 - XI. After the Marriage 89 - XII. First Months of Married Life 99 - XIII. Katy’s First Evening in New York 109 - XIV. Extracts from Bell Cameron’s Diary 121 - XV. Toning Down—Bell’s Diary Continued 124 - XVI. Katy 130 - XVII. The New House 135 - XVIII. Marian Hazelton 144 - XIX. Saratoga and Newport 151 - XX. Mark Ray at Silverton 156 - XXI. A New Life 169 - XXII. Helen in Society 183 - XXIII. Baby’s Name 193 - XXIV. Trouble in the Household 198 - XXV. Aunt Betsy goes on a Journey 211 - XXVI. Aunt Betsy Consults a Lawyer 226 - XXVII. The Dinner Party 234 - XXVIII. The Seventh Regiment 241 - XXIX. Katy goes to Silverton 247 - XXX. Little Genevra 259 - XXXI. After the Funeral 269 - XXXII. The First Wife 274 - XXXIII. What the Page Disclosed 281 - XXXIV. The Effect 290 - XXXV. The Interview 292 - XXXVI. The Fever and its Results 302 - XXXVII. The Confession 308 - XXXVIII. Domestic Troubles 316 - XXXIX. What Followed 327 - XL. Mark and Helen 331 - XLI. Christmas Eve at Silverton 335 - XLII. After Christmas Eve 345 - XLIII. Georgetown Hospital 349 - XLIV. Last Hours 359 - XLV. Mourning 366 - XLVI. Prisoners of War 368 - XLVII. Doctor Grant 372 - XLVIII. Katy 385 - XLIX. The Prisoners 390 - L. The Day of the Wedding 396 - LI. The Wedding 404 - LII. Conclusion 408 - - - - - THE CAMERON PRIDE; - - OR, PURIFIED BY SUFFERING. - - - - - CHAPTER I. - THE FARM-HOUSE AT SILVERTON. - - -Uncle Ephraim Barlow was an old-fashioned man, clinging to the old-time -customs of his fathers, and looking with but little toleration upon what -he termed the “new-fangled notions” of the present generation. Born and -reared amid the rocks and hills of the Bay State, his nature partook -largely of the nature of his surroundings, and he grew into manhood with -many a rough point adhering to his character, which, nevertheless, taken -as a whole, was, like the wild New England scenery, beautiful and grand. -None knew Uncle Ephraim Barlow but to respect him, and at the church in -which he was a deacon, few would have been missed more than the tall, -muscular man, with the long white hair, who, Sunday after Sunday, walked -slowly up the middle aisle to his accustomed seat before the altar, and -who regularly passed the contribution box, bowing involuntarily in token -of approbation when a neighbor’s gift was larger than its wont, and -gravely dropping in his own ten cents—never more, never less, always ten -cents—his weekly offering, which he knew amounted in a year to just five -dollars and twenty cents. And still Uncle Ephraim was not stingy, as the -Silverton poor could testify, for many a load of wood and bag of meal -found entrance to the doors where cold and hunger would have otherwise -been, while to his minister he was literally a holder up of the weary -hands, and a comforter in the time of trouble. - -His helpmeet, Aunt Hannah, like that virtuous woman mentioned in the -Bible, was one “who seeketh wool and flax, and worketh willingly with -her hands, who riseth while yet it is night, and giveth meat to her -household,” while Miss Betsy Barlow, the deacon’s maiden sister, was a -character in her way, and bore no resemblance to those frivolous females -to whom the Apostle Paul had reference when he condemned the plaiting of -hair and the wearing of gold and jewels. Quaint, queer and -simple-hearted, she had but little idea of any world this side of -heaven, except the one bounded by the “huckleberry” hills and the -crystal waters of Fairy Pond, which from the back door of the farm-house -were plainly seen, both in the summer sunshine and when the intervening -fields were covered with the winter snow. - -The home of such a trio was, like themselves, ancient and unpretentious, -nearly one hundred years having elapsed since the solid foundation was -laid to a portion of the building. Unquestionably it was the oldest -house in Silverton, for on the heavy oaken door of what was called the -back room was still to be seen the mark of a bullet, left there by some -marauders who, during the Revolution, had encamped in that neighborhood. -George Washington, it was said, had spent a night beneath its roof, the -deacon’s mother pouring for him her Bohea tea and breaking her home-made -bread. Since that time several attempts had been made to modernize the -house. Lath and plaster had been put upon the rafters and paper upon the -walls, wooden latches had given place to iron, while in the parlor, -where Washington had slept, there was the extravagance of a porcelain -knob, such, as Uncle Ephraim said, was only fit for gentry who could -afford to be grand. For himself he was content to live as his father -did; but young folks, he supposed, must in some things have their way, -and so when his pretty niece, who had lived with him from childhood to -the day of her marriage, came back to him a widow, bringing her two -fatherless children and a host of new ideas, he good-humoredly suffered -her to tear down some of his household idols and replace them with her -own. And thus it was that the farm-house gradually changed its -appearance, for young womanhood which has had one glimpse of the outer -world will not settle down quietly amid fashions a century old. Lucy -Lennox, when she returned to the farm-house, was not quite the same as -when she went away. Indeed, Aunt Betsy in her guileless heart feared -that she had actually fallen from grace, imputing the fall wholly to -Lucy’s predilection for a certain little book on whose back was written -“Common Prayer,” and at which Aunt Betsy scarcely dared to look, lest -she should be guilty of the enormities practiced by the Romanists -themselves. Clearer headed than his sister, the deacon read the -black-bound book, finding therein much that was good, but wondering -“why, when folks promised to renounce the pomps and vanities, they did -not do so, instead of acting more stuck up than ever.” Inconsistency was -the underlying strata of the whole Episcopal Church, he said, and as -Lucy had declared her preference for that church, he too, in a measure, -charged her propensity for repairs to the same source with Aunt Betsy; -but, as he could see no sin in what she did, he suffered her in most -things to have her way. But when she contemplated an attack upon the -huge chimney occupying the centre of the building, he interfered; for -there was nothing he liked better than the bright fire on the hearth -when the evenings grew chilly and long, and the autumn rain was falling -upon the roof. The chimney should stand, he said; and as no amount of -coaxing could prevail on him to revoke his decision, the chimney stood, -and with it the three fire-places, where, in the fall and spring, were -burned the twisted knots too bulky for the kitchen stove. This was -fourteen years ago, and in that lapse of time Lucy Lennox had gradually -fallen in with the family ways of living, and ceased to talk of her -cottage in western New York, where her husband had died and where were -born her daughters, one of whom she was expecting home on the warm July -day when our story opens. - -Katy Lennox had been for a year an inmate of Canandaigua Seminary, -whither she was sent at the expense of a distant relative to whom her -father had been guardian, and who, during her infancy, had had a home -with Uncle Ephraim, Mrs. Lennox having brought him with her when she -returned to Silverton. Dr. Morris Grant he was now, and he had just come -home from a three years’ sojourn in Paris, and was living in his own -handsome dwelling across the fields toward Silverton village, and half a -mile or more from Uncle Ephraim’s farm-house. He had written from Paris, -offering to send his cousins, Helen and Kate, to any school their mother -might select, and as Canandaigua was her choice, they had both gone -thither the year before, but Helen, the eldest, had fallen sick within -the first three months, and returned to Silverton, satisfied that the -New England schools were good enough for her. This was Helen; but Katy -was different. Katy was more susceptible of polish and refinement—so the -mother thought; and as she arranged and rearranged the little parlor, -lingering longest by the piano, Dr. Morris’s gift, she drew bright -pictures of her favorite child, wondering how the farm-house and its -inmates would seem to her after all she must have seen during her weeks -of travel since the close of the summer term. And then she wondered why -cousin Morris was so annoyed when told that Katy had accepted an -invitation to accompany Mrs. Woodhull and her party on a trip to -Montreal and Lake George, taking Boston on her homeward route. Katy’s -movements were nothing to him, unless—and the little ambitious mother -struck at random a few notes of the soft-toned piano as she thought how -possible it was that the interest always manifested by staid, quiet -Morris Grant for her light-hearted Kate was more than a brotherly -interest, such as he would naturally feel for the daughter of one who -had been to him a second father. But Katy was so much a child when he -went away to Paris that it could not be. She would sooner think of -Helen, who was more like him. - -“It’s Helen, if anybody,” she said aloud, just as a voice near the -window called out, “Please, Cousin Lucy, relieve me of these flowers. I -brought them over in honor of Katy’s return.” - -Blushing guiltily, Mrs. Lennox advanced to meet a tall, dark-looking -man, with a grave, pleasant face, which, when he smiled, was strangely -attractive, from the sudden lighting up of the hazel eyes and the -glitter of the white, even teeth disclosed so fully to view. - -“Oh, thank you, Morris! Katy will like them, I am sure,” Mrs. Lennox -said, taking from his hand a bouquet of the choice flowers which grew -only in the hothouse at Linwood. “Come in for a moment, please.” - -“No, thank you,” the doctor replied. “There is a case of rheumatism just -over the hill, and I must not be idle if I would retain the practice -given to me. Not that I make anything but good will as yet, for only the -Silverton poor dare trust their lives in my inexperienced hands. But I -can afford to wait,” and with another flash of the hazel eyes Morris -walked away a pace or two, then, as if struck with some sudden thought, -turned back, and fanning his heated face with his leghorn hat, said, -hesitatingly, “By the way, Uncle Ephraim’s last payment on the old mill -falls due to-morrow. Tell him, if he says anything in your presence, not -to mind unless it is perfectly convenient. He must be somewhat -straitened just now, as Katy’s trip cannot have cost him a small sum.” - -The clear, penetrating eyes were looking full at Mrs. Lennox, who for a -moment felt slightly piqued that Morris Grant should take so much -oversight of her uncle’s affairs. It was natural, too, that he should, -she knew, for there was a strong liking between the old man and the -young, the latter of whom, having lived nine years in the family, took a -kindly interest in everything pertaining to it. - -“Uncle Ephraim did not pay the bills,” Mrs. Lennox faltered at last, -feeling intuitively how Morris’s delicate sense of propriety would -shrink from her next communication. “Mrs. Woodhull wrote that the -expense should be nothing to me, and as she is fully able and makes so -much of Katy, I did not think it wrong.” - -“Lucy Lennox! I am astonished!” was all Morris could say, as the tinge -of wounded pride dyed his cheek. - -Kate was a connection—distant, it is true; but his blood was in her -veins, and his inborn pride shrank from receiving so much from -strangers, while he wondered at her mother, feeling more and more -convinced that what he had so long suspected was literally true. Mrs. -Lennox was weak, Mrs. Lennox was ambitious, and for the sake of -associating her daughter with people whom the world had placed above her -she would stoop to accept that upon which she had no claim. - -“Mrs. Woodhull was so urgent and so fond of Katy; and then I thought it -well to give her the advantage of being with such people as compose that -party, the very first in Canandaigua, besides some from New York,” Mrs. -Lennox began in self-defence, but Morris did not stop to hear more, and -hurried off a second time, while Mrs. Lennox looked after him, wondering -at the feeling which she could not understand. “If Katy can go with the -Woodhulls and their set, I certainly shall not prevent it,” she thought, -as she continued her arrangement of the parlor, wishing that it was more -like what she remembered Mrs. Woodhull’s to have been, fifteen years -ago. - -Of course that lady had kept up with the times, and if her old house was -finer than anything Mrs. Lennox had ever seen, what must her new one be, -with all the modern improvements? and leaning her head upon the mantel, -Mrs. Lennox thought how proud she should be could she live to see her -daughter in similar circumstances to the envied Mrs. Woodhull, at that -moment in the crowded car between Boston and Silverton, tired, hot, and -dusty, and as nearly cross as a fashionable lady can be. - -A call from Uncle Ephraim roused her, and going out into the square -entry she tied his linen cravat, and then handing him the blue umbrella, -an appendage he took with him in sunshine and in storm, she watched him -as he stepped into his one-horse wagon and drove briskly away in the -direction of the depot, where he was to meet his niece. - -“I wish Cousin Morris had offered his carriage,” she thought, as the -corn-colored wagon disappeared from view. “The train stops five minutes -at West Silverton, and some of those grand people will be likely to see -the turnout,” and with a sigh as she doubted whether it were not a -disgrace as well as an inconvenience to be poor, she repaired to the -kitchen, where sundry savory smells betokened a plentiful dinner. - -Bending over the sink, with her cap strings tucked back, her sleeves -rolled up, and her short purple calico shielded from harm by her broad -check apron, Aunt Betsy stood cleaning the silvery onions, and -occasionally wiping her dim old eyes as the odor proved too strong for -her. At another table stood Aunt Hannah, deep in the mysteries of the -light white crust which was to cover the tender chicken boiling in the -pot, while in the oven bubbled and baked the custard pie, remembered -as Katy’s favorite, and prepared for her coming by Helen -herself—plain-spoken, dark-eyed Helen—now out in the strawberry beds, -picking the few luscious berries which almost by a miracle had been -coaxed to wait for Katy, who loved them so dearly. Like her mother, -Helen had wondered how the change would impress her bright little -sister, for she remembered that even to her obtuse perceptions there -had come a pang when after only three months abiding in a place where -the etiquette of life was rigidly enforced, she had returned to their -homely ways at Silverton, and felt that it was worse than vain to try -to effect a change. But Helen’s strong sense, with the help of two or -three good cries, had carried her safely through, and her humble home -among the hills was very dear to her now. But she was Helen, as the -mother had said; she was different from Katy, who might be lonely and -homesick, sobbing herself to sleep in her patient sister’s arms, as -she did on that first night in Canandaigua, which Helen remembered so -well. - -“It’s better, too, now than when I came home,” Helen thought, as with -her rich, scarlet fruit she went slowly to the house. “Morris is here, -and the new church, and if she likes she can teach Sunday-school, though -maybe she will prefer going with Uncle Ephraim. He will be pleased if -she does,” and pausing by the door, Helen looked across Fairy Pond in -the direction of Silverton village, where the top of a slender spire was -just visible—the spire of St. John’s, built within the year, and mostly -at the expense of Dr. Morris Grant, who, a zealous churchman himself, -had labored successfully to instill into Helen’s mind some of his own -peculiar views, as well as to awaken in Mrs. Lennox’s heart the -professions which had lain dormant for as long a time as the little -black bound book had lain on the cupboard shelf, forgotten and unread. - -How the doctor’s views were regarded by the Deacon’s family we shall -see, by and by. At present our story has to do with Helen, holding her -bowl of berries by the rear door and looking across the distant fields. -With one last glance at the object of her thoughts she re-entered the -house, where her mother was arranging the square table for dinner, -bringing out the white stone china instead of the mulberry set kept for -every day use. - -“We ought to have some silver forks,” she said despondingly, as she laid -by each plate the three tined forks of steel, to pay for which Helen and -Katy had picked huckle-berries on the hills and dried apples from the -orchard. - -“Never mind, mother,” Helen answered cheerily: “if Katy is as she used -to be she will care more for us than for silver, and I guess she is, for -I imagine it would take a great deal to make her anything but a -warmhearted, merry little creature.” - -This was sensible Helen’s tribute of affection to the little, gay, -chattering butterfly, at that moment an occupant of Uncle Ephraim’s -corn-colored wagon, and riding with that worthy toward home, throwing -kisses to every barefoot boy and girl she met, and screaming with -delight as the old familiar way-marks met her view. - -“There is Aunt Betsy, with her dress pinned up as usual,” she cried, -when at last the wagon stopped before the door, and the four women came -hurriedly out to meet her, almost smothering her with caresses, and then -holding her off to see if she had changed. - -She was very stylish in her pretty traveling dress of gray, made under -Mrs. Woodhull’s supervision, and nothing could be more becoming than her -jaunty hat, tied with ribbons of blue, while the dainty kids, bought to -match the dress, fitted her fat hands charmingly, and the little -high-heeled boots of soft prunella were faultless in their style. She -was very attractive in her personal appearance, and the mental verdict -of the four females regarding her intently was something as follows: -Mrs. Lennox detected unmistakable marks of the grand society she had -been mingling in, and was pleased accordingly; Aunt Hannah pronounced -her “the prettiest creeter she had ever seen;” Aunt Betsy decided that -her hoops were too big and her clothes too fine for a Barlow; while -Helen, who looked beyond dress, or style, or manner, straight into her -sister’s soft blue eyes, brimming with love and tears, decided that Katy -was not changed for the worse. Nor was she. Truthful, loving, -simple-hearted and full of playful life she had gone from home, and she -came back the same, never once thinking of the difference between the -farm-house and Mrs. Woodhull’s palace, or if she did, giving the -preference to the former. - -“It was perfectly splendid to get home,” she said, handing her gloves to -Helen, her sun-shade to her mother, her satchel to Aunt Hannah, and -tossing her bonnet in the vicinity of the water pail, from which it was -saved by Aunt Betsy, who put it carefully in the press, examining it -closely first and wondering how much it cost. - -Deciding that “it was a good thumpin’ price,” she returned to the -kitchen, where Katy, dancing and curvetting in circles, scarcely stood -still long enough for them to see that in spite of boarding-school fare, -of which she had complained so bitterly, her cheeks were rounder, her -eyes brighter, and her figure fuller than of old. She had improved, but -she did not appear to know it, or to guess how beautiful she was in the -fresh bloom of seventeen, with her golden hair waving around her -childish forehead, and her deep blue eyes laughing so expressively with -each change of her constantly varying face. Everything animate and -inanimate pertaining to the old house, came in for its share of notice. -She kissed the kitten, squeezed the cat, hugged the dog, and hugged the -little goat, tied to his post in the clover yard and trying so hard to -get free. The horse, to whom she fed handfuls of grass, had been already -hugged. She did that the first thing after strangling Uncle Ephraim as -she alighted from the train, and some from the car window saw it, -smiling at what they termed the charming simplicity of an enthusiastic -school-girl. Blessed youth! blessed early girlhood, surrounded by a halo -of rare beauty! It was Katy’s shield and buckler, warding off many a -cold criticism which might otherwise have been passed upon her. - -They were sitting down to dinner now, and the deacon’s voice trembled -as, with the blessing invoked, he thanked God for bringing back the -little girl, whose head was for a moment bent reverently, but quickly -lifted itself up as its owner, in the same breath with that in which the -deacon uttered his amen, declared how hungry she was, and went into -rhapsodies over the nicely cooked viands which loaded the table. The -best bits were hers that day, and she refused nothing until it came to -Aunt Betsy’s onions, once her special delight, but now declined, greatly -to the distress of the old lady, who having been on the watch for -“quirks,” as she styled any departure from long established customs, now -knew she had found one, and with an injured expression withdrew the -offered bowl, saying sadly, “You used to eat ’em raw, Cathe_rine_; -what’s got into you?” - -It was the first time Aunt Betsy had called a name so obnoxious to Kate, -especially when, as in the present case, great emphasis was laid upon -the _rine_, and from past experience Katy knew that her good aunt was -displeased. Her first impulse was to accept the dish refused; but when -she remembered her reason for refusing she said, laughingly, “Excuse me, -Aunt Betsy, I love them still, but—but—well, the fact is, I am going by -and by to run over and see Cousin Morris, inasmuch as he was not polite -enough to come here, and you know it might not be so pleasant.” - -“The land!” and Aunt Betsy brightened. “If that’s all, eat ’em. ’Tain’t -no ways likely you’ll get near enough to him to make any difference—only -turn your head when you shake hands.” - -But Katy remained incorrigible, while Helen, who guessed that her -impulsive sister was contemplating a warmer greeting of the doctor than -a mere shaking of his hands, kindly turned the conversation by telling -how Morris was improved by his tour abroad, and how much the poor people -thought of him. - -“He is very fine looking, too,” she said, whereupon Katy involuntarily -exclaimed, “I wonder if he is as handsome as Wilford Cameron? Oh, I -never wrote about him, did I?” and the little maiden began to blush as -she stirred her tea industriously. - -“Who is Wilford Cameron?” asked Mrs. Lennox. - -“Oh, he’s Wilford Cameron, that’s all; lives on Fifth Avenue—is a -lawyer—is very rich—a friend of Mrs. Woodhull, and was with us in our -travels,” Kate answered rapidly, the red burning on her cheeks so -brightly that Aunt Betsy innocently passed her a big feather fan, saying -“she looked mighty hot.” - -And Katy was warm, but whether from talking of Wilford Cameron or not -none could tell. She said no more of him, but went on to speak of -Morris, asking if it were true, as she had heard, that he built the new -church in Silverton. - -“Yes, and runs it, too,” Aunt Betsy answered, energetically, proceeding -to tell “what goin’s on they had, with the minister shiftin’ his clothes -every now and agin’ and the folks all talkin’ together. Morris got me in -once,” she said, “and I thought meetin’ was let out half a dozen times, -so much histin’ round as there was. I’d as soon go to a show, if it was -a good one, and I told Morris so. He laughed and said I’d feel different -when I knew ’em better; but needn’t tell me that prayers made up is as -good as them as isn’t, though Morris, I do believe, will get to Heaven a -long ways ahead of me, if he is a ’Piscopal.” - -To this there was no response, and being launched on her favorite topic, -Aunt Betsy continued: - -“If you’ll believe it, Helen here is one of ’em, and has got a sight of -’Piscopal quirks into her head. Why, she and Morris sing that -talkin’-like singin’ Sundays when the folks get up and Helen plays the -accordeon.” - -“Melodeon, aunty, melodeon,” and Helen laughed merrily at her aunt’s -mistake, turning the conversation again, and this time to Canandaigua, -where she had some acquaintances. - -But Katy was so much afraid of Canandaigua, and what talking of it might -lead to, that she kept to Cousin Morris, asking innumerable questions -about his house and grounds, and whether there were as many flowers -there now as there used to be in the days when she and Helen went to say -their lessons at Linwood, as they had done before Morris sailed for -Europe. - -“I think it right mean in him not to be here to see me,” she said, -poutingly, “and I am going over as quick as I eat my dinner.” - -But against this all exclaimed at once. She was too tired, the mother -said, she must lie down and rest, while Helen suggested that she had not -told them about her trip, and Uncle Ephraim remarked that she would not -find Morris at home, as he was going that afternoon to Spencer. This -last settled it. Katy must stay at home; but instead of lying down or -talking about her journey, she explored every nook and crevice of the -old house and barn, finding the nest Aunt Betsy had looked for in vain, -and proving to the anxious dame that she was right when she insisted -that the speckled hen had stolen her nest and was in the act of setting. -Later in the day, a neighbor passing by spied the little maiden riding -in the cart off into the meadow, where she sported like a child among -the mounds of fragrant hay, playing her jokes upon the sober deacon, who -smiled fondly upon her, feeling how much lighter the labor seemed -because she was there with him, a hindrance instead of a help, in spite -of her efforts to handle the rake skillfully. - -“Are you glad to have me home again, Uncle Eph?” she asked when once she -caught him regarding her with a peculiar look. - -“Yes, Katy-did, very glad?” he answered; “I’ve missed you every day, -though you do nothing much but bother me.” - -“Why did you look so funny at me just now?” Kate continued, and the -deacon replied: “I was thinking how hard it would be for such a -highty-tighty thing as you to meet the crosses and disappointments which -lie all along the road which you must travel. I should hate to see your -young life crushed out of you, as young lives sometimes are?” - -“Oh, never fear for me. I am going to be happy all my life long. Wilford -Cameron said I ought to be,” and Katy tossed into the air a wisp of the -new-made hay. - -“I don’t know who Wilford Cameron is, but there’s no ought about it,” -the deacon rejoined. “God marks out the path for us to walk in, and when -he says it’s best, we know it is, though some are straight and pleasant -and others crooked and hard.” - -“I’ll choose the straight and pleasant then—why shouldn’t I?” Katy -asked, laughing, as she seated herself upon a rock near which the hay -cart had stopped. - -“Can’t tell what path you’ll take,” the deacon answered. “God knows -whether you’ll go easy through the world, or whether he’ll send you -suffering to purify and make you better.” - -“Purified by suffering,” Katy said aloud, while a shadow involuntarily -crept for an instant over her gay spirits. - -She could not believe _she_ was to be purified by suffering. She had -never done anything very bad, and humming a part of a song learned from -Wilford Cameron she followed after the loaded cart, returning slowly to -the house, thinking to herself that there must be something great and -good in the suffering which should purify at last, but hoping she was -not the one to whom this great good should come. - -It was supper-time ere long, and after that was over Katy announced her -intention of going to Linwood whether Morris were there or not. - -“I can see the housekeeper and the birds and flowers,” she said, as she -swung her straw hat by the string and started from the door. - -“Ain’t Helen going with you?” Aunt Hannah asked, while Helen herself -looked a little surprised. - -But Katy would rather go alone. She had a heap to tell Cousin Morris, -and Helen could go next time. - -“Just as you like,” Helen answered, good-naturedly, and so Katy went -alone to call on Morris Grant. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - LINWOOD. - - -Morris had returned from Spencer, and in his dressing-gown and slippers -was sitting by the window of his library, looking out upon the purple -sunshine flooding the western sky, and thinking of the little girl -coming so rapidly up the grassy lane in the rear of the house. He was -going over to see her by and by, he said, and he pictured to himself how -she must look by this time, hoping that he should not find her greatly -changed, for Morris Grant’s memories were very precious of the -play-child who used to tease and worry him so much with her lessons -poorly learned, and the never-ending jokes played off upon her teacher. -He had thought of her so often when across the sea, and, knowing her -love of the beautiful, he had never looked upon a painting or scene of -rare beauty that he did not wish her by his side sharing in the -pleasure. He had brought her from that far-off land many little trophies -which he thought she would prize, and which he was going to take with -him when he went to the farm-house. He never dreamed of her coming there -to-night. She would, of course, wait for him, to call upon her first. -How then was he amazed when, just as the sun was going down and he was -watching its last rays lingering on the brow of the hill across the -pond, the library door was opened wide and the room suddenly filled with -life and joy, as a graceful figure, with reddish golden hair, bounded -across the floor, and winding its arms around his neck gave him the -hearty kiss which Katy had in her mind when she declined Aunt Betsy’s -favorite vegetable. - -Morris Grant was not averse to being kissed, and yet the fact that Katy -Lennox had kissed him in such a way awoke a chill of disappointment, for -it said that to her he was the teacher still, the elder brother, whom, -as a child, she had loaded with caresses. - -“Oh, Cousin Morris!” she exclaimed, “why didn’t you come over at noon, -you naughty boy! But what a splendid-looking man you’ve got to be, -though! and what do you think of me?” she added, blushing for the first -time, as he held her off from him and looked into the sunny face. - -“I think you wholly unchanged,” he answered, so gravely that Katy began -to pout as she said, “And you are sorry, I know. Pray what did you -expect of me, and what would you have me be?” - -“Nothing but what you are—the same Kitty as of old,” he answered, his -own bright smile breaking all over his sober face. - -He saw that his manner repelled her, and he tried to be natural, -succeeding so well that Katy forgot her first disappointment, and making -him sit by her on the sofa, where she could see him distinctly, she -poured forth a volley of talk, telling him, among other things, how much -afraid of him some of his letters made her—they were so serious and so -like a sermon. - -“You wrote me once that you thought of being a minister,” she added. -“Why did you change your mind? It must be splendid, I think, to be a -young clergyman—invited to so many tea-drinkings, and having all the -girls in the parish after you, as they always are after unmarried -ministers.” - -Into Morris Grant’s eyes there stole a troubled light as he thought how -little Katy realized what it was to be a minister of God—to point the -people heavenward and teach them the right way. There was a moment’s -pause, and then he tried to explain to her that he hoped he had not been -influenced either by thoughts of tea-drinkings or having the parish -girls after him, but rather by an honest desire to choose the sphere in -which he could accomplish the most good. - -“I did not decide rashly,” he said, “but after weeks of anxious thought -and prayer for guidance I came to the conclusion that in the practice of -medicine I could find perhaps as broad a field for good as in the -church, and so I decided to go on with my profession—to be a physician -of the poor and suffering, speaking to them of Him who came to save, and -in this way I shall not labor in vain. Many would seek another place -than Silverton and its vicinity, but something told me that my work was -here, and so I am content to stay, feeling thankful that my means admit -of my waiting for patients, if need be, and at the same time ministering -to the wants of those who are needy.” - -Gradually, as he talked, there came into his face a light born only from -the peace which passeth understanding, and the awe-struck Katy crept -closer to his side and grasping his hand in hers, said softly, “Dear -cousin, what a good man you are, and how silly I must seem to you, -thinking you cared for tea-drinkings, or even girls, when, of course, -you do not.” - -“Perhaps I do,” the doctor replied, slightly pressing the warm, fat hand -holding his so fast. “A minister’s or a doctor’s life would be dreary -indeed if there was no one to share it, and I have had my dreams of the -girls, or girl, who was some day to brighten my home.” - -He looked fully at Katy now, but she was thinking of something else, and -her next remark was to ask him rather abruptly “how old he was?” - -“Twenty-six last May,” he answered, while Katy continued, “You are not -old enough to be married yet. Wilford Cameron is thirty.” - -“Where did _you_ meet Wilford Cameron?” Morris asked, in some surprise, -and then the story which Katy had not told, even to her sister, came out -in full, and Morris tried to listen patiently while Katy explained how, -on the very first day of the examination, Mrs. Woodhull had come in, and -with her the grandest, proudest-looking man, who the girls said was Mr. -Wilford Cameron, from New York, a fastidious bachelor, whose family were -noted for their wealth and exclusiveness, keeping six servants, and -living in the finest style; that Mrs. Woodhull, who all through the year -had been very kind to Katy, came to her after school and invited her -home to tea; that she had gone and met Mr. Cameron; that she was very -much afraid of him at first, and was not sure that she was quite over it -now, although he was so polite to her all through the journey, taking so -much pains to have her see the finest sights, and laughing at her -enthusiasm. - -“Wilford Cameron with you in your trip?” Morris asked, a new idea -dawning on his mind. - -“Yes, let me tell you,” and Katy spoke rapidly. “I saw him that night, -and then Mrs. Woodhull took me to ride with him in the carriage, and -then—well, I rode alone with him once down by the lake, and he talked to -me just as if he was not a grand man and I a little school-girl. And -when the term closed I stayed at Mrs. Woodhull’s and he was there. He -liked my playing and liked my singing, and I guess he liked me—that is, -you know—yes, he liked me _some_” and Katy twisted the fringe of her -shawl, while Morris, in spite of the pain tugging at his heart strings, -laughed aloud as he rejoined, “I have no doubt he did; but go on—what -next?” - -“He said more about my joining that party than anybody, and I am very -sure _he_ paid the _bills_.” - -“Oh, Katy,” and Morris started as if he had been stung. “I would rather -have given Linwood than have you thus indebted to Wilford Cameron, or -any other man.” - -“I could not well help it. I did not mean any harm,” Katy said timidly, -explaining how she had shrunk from the proposition which Mrs. Woodhull -thought was right, urging it until she had consented, and telling how -kind Mr. Cameron was, and how careful not to remind her of her -indebtedness to him, attending to and anticipating every want as if she -had been his sister. - -“You would like Mr. Cameron, Cousin Morris. He made me think of you a -little, only he is prouder,” and Katy’s hand moved up Morris’s coat -sleeve till it rested on his shoulder. - -“Perhaps so,” Morris answered, feeling a growing resentment towards one -who it seemed to him had done him some great wrong. - -But Wilford was not to blame, he reflected. He could not help admiring -the bright little Katy—and so conquering all ungenerous feelings, he -turned to her at last, and said, - -“Did my little Cousin Kitty like Wilford Cameron?” - -Something in Morris’s voice startled Katy strangely; her hand came down -from his shoulder, and for an instant there swept over her an emotion -similar to what she had felt when with Wilford Cameron she rambled along -the shores of Lake George, or sat alone with him on the deck of the -steamer which carried them down Lake Champlain. But Morris had always -been her brother, and she did not guess that she was more to him than a -sister, so she answered frankly at last, “I guess I did like him a -little. I couldn’t help it, Morris. You could not either, or any one. I -believe Mrs. Woodhull was more than half in love with him herself, and -she talked so much of his family; they must be very grand.” - -“Yes, I know those Camerons,” was Morris’s quiet remark. - -“What! You don’t know Wilford?” Katy almost screamed, and Morris -replied, “Not Wilford, no; but the mother and the sisters were in Paris, -and I met them many times.” - -“What were they doing in Paris?” Katy asked, and Morris replied that he -believed the immediate object of their being there was to obtain the -best medical advice for a little orphan grand-child, a bright, beautiful -boy, to whom some terrible accident had happened in infancy, preventing -his walking entirely, and making him nearly helpless. His name was -Jamie, Morris said, and as he saw that Katy was interested, he told her -how sweet-tempered the little fellow was, how patient under suffering, -and how eagerly he listened when Morris, who at one time attended him, -told him of the Saviour and his love for little children. - -“Did he get well?” Katy asked, her eyes filling with tears at the -picture Morris drew of Jamie Cameron, sitting all day long in his wheel -chair, and trying to comfort his grand-mother’s distress when the -torturing instruments for straightening his poor back were applied. - -“No, he died one lovely day in October, and they buried him beneath the -bright skies of France,” Morris said, and then Katy asked about the -mother and sisters. “Were they proud, and did he like them much?” - -“They were very proud,” Morris said; “but they were always civil to -him,” and Katy, had she been watching, might have seen a slight flush on -his cheek as he told her of the stately woman, Wilford’s mother, of the -haughty Juno, a beauty and a belle, and lastly of Arabella, whom the -family nicknamed Bluebell, from her excessive fondness for books, and -her contempt for the fashionable life her mother and sister led. - -It was evident that neither of the young ladies were wholly to Morris’s -taste, but of the two he preferred Bluebell, for though imperious and -self-willed, she had some heart, some principle, while Juno had none. -This was Morris’s opinion, and it disturbed little Katy, as was very -perceptible from the nervous tapping of her foot upon the carpet and the -working of her hands. - -“How would _I_ appear by the side of those ladies?” she suddenly asked, -her countenance changing as Morris replied that it was almost impossible -to think of her as associated with the Camerons, she was so wholly -unlike them in every respect. - -“I don’t believe I shocked Wilford so very much,” Katy rejoined, -reproachfully, while again a heavy pain shot through Morris’s heart, for -he saw more and more how Wilford Cameron was mingled with every thought -of the young girl, who continued: “And if he was satisfied, his mother -and sisters will be. Any way, I don’t want you to make me feel how -different I am from them.” - -There was tears now on Katy’s face, and casting aside all selfishness, -Morris wound his arm around her, and smoothing her golden hair, just as -he used to do when she was a child and came to him to be soothed, he -said, very gently, - -“My poor Kitty, you do like Wilford Cameron; tell me honestly—is it not -so?” - -“Yes, I guess I do,” and Katy’s voice was a half sob. “I could not help -it, either, he was so kind, so—I don’t know what, only I could not help -doing what he bade me. Why, if he had said, ‘Jump overboard, Katy -Lennox,’ I should have done it, I know—that is, if his eyes had been -upon me, they controlled me so absolutely. Can you imagine what I mean?” - -“Yes, I understand. There was the same look in Bell Cameron’s eye, a -kind of mesmeric influence which commanded obedience. They idolize -Wilford, and I dare say he is worthy of their idolatry. One thing at -least is in his favor—the crippled Jamie, for whose opinion I would give -more than all the rest, seemed to worship his Uncle Will; talking of him -continually, and telling how kind he was, sometimes staying up all night -to carry him in his arms when the pain in his back was more than usually -severe. So there must be a good, kind heart in Wilford Cameron, and if -my Cousin Kitty likes him, as she says she does, and he likes her as I -believe he must, why, I hope——” - -Morris Grant could not finish the sentence, for he did _not_ hope that -Wilford Cameron would win the gem he had so long coveted as his own. - -He might give Kitty up because she loved another best. He was generous -enough to do that, but if he did it, she must never know how much it -cost him, and lest he should betray himself he could not to-night talk -with her longer of Wilford Cameron. It was time too for Kitty to go -home, but she did not seem to remember it until Morris suggested to her -that her mother might be uneasy if she stayed away much longer, and so -they went together across the fields, the shadows all gone from Katy’s -heart, but lying so dark and heavy around Morris Grant, who was glad -when he could leave Katy at the farm-house door and go back alone to the -quiet library, where only God could witness the mighty struggle, it was -for him to say, “Thy will be done.” And while he prayed, Katy, in her -humble bedroom, with her head nestled close to Helen’s neck, was telling -her of Wilford Cameron, who, when they went down the rapids and she had -cried with fear, had put his arm around her trying to quiet her, and who -once again, on the mountain overlooking Lake George, had held her hand a -moment, while he pointed out a splendid view seen through the opening -trees. And Helen, listening, knew that Katy’s heart was lost, and that -for Wilford Cameron to deceive her now would be a cruel thing. - - - - - CHAPTER III. - WILFORD CAMERON. - - -The day succeeding Katy Lennox’s return to Silverton was rainy and cold -for the season, the storm extending as far westward as the city of New -York, and making Wilford Cameron shiver as he stepped from the Hudson -River cars into the carriage waiting for him, first greeting pleasantly -the white-gloved driver, who, closing the carriage door, mounted to his -seat and drove his handsome bays in the direction of No. —— Fifth -Avenue. And Wilford, leaning back among the cushions, thought how -pleasant it was to be home again, feeling glad, as he frequently did, -that the home was in every particular unexceptionable. The Camerons, he -knew, were an old and highly respectable family, while it was his -mother’s pride that, go back as far as one might, on either side there -could not be found a single blemish, or a member of whom to be ashamed. -On the Cameron side there were millionaires, merchant princes, bankers, -and stockholders, professors and scholars, while on hers, the Rossiter -side, there were LL. D.’s and D. D.’s, lawyers and clergymen, authors -and artists, beauties and bells, the whole forming an illustrious line -of ancestry, admirably represented and sustained by the present family -of Camerons, occupying the brown-stone front, corner of —— street and -Fifth Avenue, where the handsome carriage stopped, and a tall figure ran -quickly up the marble steps. There was a soft rustle of silk, an odor of -delicate perfume, and from the luxurious chair before the fire kindled -in the grate, a lady rose and advanced a step or two towards the parlor -door. In another moment she was kissing the young man bending over her -and saluting her as mother, kissing him quietly, properly, as the -Camerons always kissed. She was very glad to have Wilford home again, -for he was her favorite child; and brushing the rain-drops from his coat -she led him to the fire, offering him her own easy-chair, and starting -herself in quest of another. But Wilford held her back, and making her -sit down, he drew an ottoman beside her, and then asked her first how -she had been, then where his sisters were, and if his father had come -home—for there was a father, a quiet, unassuming man, who stayed all day -in Wall street, seldom coming home in time to carve at his own dinner -table, and when he was at home, asking for nothing except to be left by -his fashionable wife and daughters to himself, free to smoke and doze -over his evening paper in the seclusion of his own reading-room. - -As Wilford’s question concerning his sire had been the last one asked, -so it was the last one answered, his mother parting his dark hair with -her jeweled hand, and telling him first that, with the exception of a -cold taken at the Park on Saturday afternoon, she was in usual -health—second, that Juno was spending a few days in Orange, and that -Bell had gone to pass the night with her particular friend, Mrs. -Meredith, the most bookish woman in New York. - -“Your father,” the lady added, “has not yet returned; but as the dinner -is ready I think we will not wait.” - -She touched a silver bell beside her, and ordering dinner to be sent up -at once, went on to ask her son concerning his journey and the people he -had met. But Wilford, though intending to tell her all, would wait till -after dinner. So, offering her his arm, he led her out to where the -table was spread, widely different from the table prepared for Katy -Lennox among the Silverton hills, for where at the farm-house there had -been only the homely wares common to the country, with Aunt Betsy’s -onions served in a bowl, there was here the finest of damask, the -choicest of china, the costliest of cut-glass, and the heaviest of -silver, with the well-trained waiter gliding in and out, himself the -very personification of strict table etiquette, such as the Barlows had -never dreamed about. There was no fricasseed chicken here, or flaky -crust, with pickled beans and apple-sauce; no custard pie with -strawberries and rich, sweet cream, poured from a blue earthen pitcher; -but there were soups, and fish, and roasted meats, and dishes with -French names and taste, and dessert elaborately gotten up, and served -with the utmost precision, and Mrs. Cameron presiding over all with -lady-like decorum, her soft glossy silk of brown, with her rich lace and -diamond pin in perfect keeping with herself and her surroundings. And -opposite to her Wilford sat, a tall, dark, handsome man, of thirty or -thereabouts—a man, whose polished manners betokened at once a perfect -knowledge of the world, and whose face, to a close observer, indicated -how little satisfaction he had as yet found in the world. He had tried -its pleasures, drinking the cup of freedom and happiness to its very -dregs, and though he thought he liked it, he often found himself -dissatisfied and reaching after something which should make life more -real, more worth the living for. He had traveled all over Europe twice, -had visited every spot worth visiting in his own country, had been a -frequenter of every fashionable resort in New York, from the -skating-pond to the theatres, had been admitted as a lawyer, had opened -an office on Broadway, acquiring some reputation in his profession, had -looked at more than twenty girls with the view of making them his wife, -and found them, as he believed, alike fickle, selfish, artificial and -hollow-hearted. In short, while thinking far more of family, and -accomplishments, and style, than he ought, he was yet heartily tired of -the butterflies who flitted so constantly around him, offering to be -caught if he would but stretch out his hand to catch them. This he would -not do, and disgusted with the world as he saw it in New York, he had -gone to the Far West, roaming awhile amid the solitude of the broad -prairies, and finding there much that was soothing to him, but not -discovering the fulfillment of the great want he was craving until -coming back to Canandaigua, he met with Katy Lennox. He had smiled -wearily when asked by Mrs. Woodhull to go with her to the examination -then in progress at the Seminary. There was nothing there to interest -him, he thought, as Euclid and Algebra, French and Rhetoric were bygone -things, while young school-misses, in braided hair and pantalettes, were -shockingly insipid. Still, to be polite to Mrs. Woodhull, a childless, -fashionable woman, who patronized Canandaigua generally and Katy Lennox -in particular, he consented, and soon found himself in the crowded room, -the cynosure of many eyes as the whisper ran round that the fine-looking -man with Mrs. Woodhull was Wilford Cameron, from New York, brother to -the proud, dashing Juno Cameron, who once spent a few weeks in town. -Wilford knew they were talking about him, but he did not care, and -assuming as easy an attitude as possible, he leaned back in his chair, -yawning indolently until the class in Algebra was called, and Katy -Lennox came tripping on the stage, a pale blue ribbon in her golden -hair, and her simple dress of white relieved by no ornament except the -cluster of wild flowers fastened in her belt and at her throat. But Katy -needed no ornaments to make her more beautiful than she was at the -moment when, with glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes, she first burst -upon Wilford’s vision, a creature of rare, bewitching beauty, such as he -had never dreamed about. - -Wilford had met his destiny, and he felt it in every throb of blood -which went rushing through his veins. - -“Who is she?” he asked of Mrs. Woodhull, and that lady knew at once whom -he meant, even though he had not designated her. - -An old acquaintance of Mrs. Lennox when she lived in East Bloomfield, -Mrs. Woodhull had petted Katy from the first day of her arrival in -Canandaigua with a letter of introduction to herself from the ambitious -mother, and being rather inclined to match-making, she had had Katy in -her mind when she urged Wilford to accompany her to the Seminary. -Accordingly, she answered him at once, “That is Katy Lennox, daughter of -Judge Lennox, who died in East Bloomfield a few years ago.” - -“Pretty, is she not?” - -Wilford did not answer her. He had neither eye nor ear for anything save -Katy, acquitting herself with a good deal of credit as she worked out a -rather difficult problem, her dimpled white hand showing to good -advantage against the deep black of the board; and then her voice, -soft-toned and silvery, as a lady’s voice should be, thrilled in -Wilford’s ear, awaking a strange feeling of disquiet, as if the world -would never again be quite the same to him that it was before he met -that fair young girl now passing from the room. - -Mrs. Woodhull saw that he was interested. It was time he was settled in -life. With the exception of wealth and family position, he could not -find a better wife than Katy, and she would do what she could to bring -the marriage about. Accordingly, having first gained the preceptress’s -consent, Katy was taken home with her to dinner. And this was how -Wilford Cameron came to know little Katy Lennox, the simple-hearted -child, who blushed so prettily when first presented to him, and blushed -again when he praised her recitations, but who after that forgot the -difference in their social relations, laughing and chatting as merrily -in his presence as if she had been alone with Mrs. Woodhull. This was -the great charm to Wilford. Katy was so wholly unconscious of herself or -what he might think of her, that he could not sit in judgment upon her, -and he watched her eagerly as she sported, and flashed, and sparkled, -filling the room with sunshine, and putting to rout the entire regiment -of blues which had been for months harassing the city-bred young man. - -If there was any one thing in which Katy excelled, it was music, both -vocal and instrumental, a taste for which had been developed very early, -and fostered by Morris Grant, who had seen that his cousin had every -advantage which Silverton could afford. Great pains had been given to -her style of playing while in Canandaigua, so that as a performer upon -the piano she had few rivals in the seminary, while her bird-like voice -filled every nook and corner of the room, where, on the night after her -visit to Mrs. Woodhull, a select exhibition was held, Katy shining as -the one bright star, and winning golden laurels for beauty, grace, and -perfect self-possession, from others than Wilford Cameron, who was one -of the invited auditors. - -Juno herself could not equal that, he thought, as Katy’s fingers flew -over the keys, executing a brilliant and difficult piece without a -single mistake, and receiving the applause of the spectators easily, -naturally, as if it were an every day occurrence. But when by request -she sang “Comin’ through the Rye,” Wilford’s heart, if he had any -before, was wholly gone, and he dreamed of Katy Lennox that night, -wondering all the ensuing day how his haughty mother would receive that -young school-girl as her daughter, wife of the son whose bride she -fancied must be equal to the first lady in the land. And if Katy were -not now equal she could be made so, Wilford thought, wondering if -Canandaigua were the best place for her, and if she would consent to -receive a year or two years’ tuition from _him_, provided her family -were poor. He did not know as they were, but he would ask, and he did, -feeling a pang of regret when he heard to some extent how Katy was -circumstanced. Mrs. Woodhull had never been to Silverton, and so she did -not know of Uncle Ephraim, and his old-fashioned sister; but she knew -that they were poor—that some relation sent Katy to school; and she -frankly told Wilford so, adding, as she detected the shadow on his face, -that one could not expect everything, and that a girl like Katy was not -found every day. Wilford admitted all this, growing more and more -infatuated, until at last he consented to join the traveling party, -provided Katy joined it too, and when on the morning of their departure -for the Falls he seated himself beside her in the car, he could not well -have been happier, unless she had really been his wife, as he so much -wished she was. - -It was a most delightful trip, and Wilford was better satisfied with -himself than he had been before in years. His past life was not all free -from error, and there were many sad memories haunting him, but with Katy -at his side, seeing what he saw, admiring what he admired, and doing -what he bade her do, he gave the bygones to the wind, feeling only an -intense desire to clasp the young girl in his arms and bear her away to -some spot where with her pure fresh life all his own he could begin the -world anew, and retrieve the past which he had lost. This was when he -was with Katy. Away from her he could remember the difference in their -position, and prudential motives began to make themselves heard. Never -but once had he taken an important step without consulting his mother, -and the trouble in which that had involved him warned him to be more -cautious a second time. And this was why Katy came back to Silverton -unengaged, leaving her heart with Wilford Cameron, who would first seek -advice from his mother ere committing himself by word. He had seen the -white-haired man waiting for her when the train stopped at Silverton, -but standing there as he did, with his silvery locks parted in the -centre, and shading his honest, open face, Uncle Ephraim looked like -some patriarch of old rather than a man to be despised, and Wilford felt -only respect for him until he saw Katy’s arms wound so lovingly around -his neck as she called him Uncle Eph. That sight grated harshly, and -Wilford felt glad that he was not bound to her by any pledge. Very -curiously he looked after the couple, witnessing the meeting between -Katy and old Whiting, and guessing rightly that the corn-colored vehicle -was the one sent to transport Katy home. He was very moody for the -remainder of the route between Silverton and Albany, where he parted -with his Canandaigua friends, they going on to the westward, while he -stopped all night in Albany, where he had some business to transact for -his father. - -He was intending to tell his mother everything, except that he paid -Katy’s bills. He would rather keep that to himself, as it might shock -his mother’s sense of propriety and make her think less of Katy; so -after dinner was over, and they had returned to the parlor, he opened -the subject by asking her to guess what took him off so suddenly with -Mrs. Woodhull. - -The mother did not know—unless—and a strange light gleamed in her eye, -as she asked if it were some girl. - -“Yes, mother, it was,” and without any reservation Wilford frankly told -the story of his interest in Katy Lennox. - -He admitted that she was poor and unaccustomed to society, but he loved -her more than words could express. - -“Not as I loved Genevra,” he said, and there came a look of intense pain -into his eyes as he continued. “That was the passion of a boy of -nineteen, stimulated by secrecy, but this is the love of a mature man of -thirty, who feels that he is capable of judging for himself.” - -In Wilford’s voice there was a tone warning the mother that opposition -would only feed the flame, and so she offered none directly, but heard -him patiently to the end, and then quietly questioned him of Katy and -her family, especially the last. What did he know of it? Was it one to -detract from the Cameron line, kept untarnished so long? Were the -relatives such as he never need blush to own even if they came there -into their drawing-rooms as they would come if Katy did? - -Wilford thought of Uncle Ephraim as he had seen him upon the platform at -Silverton, and could scarcely repress a smile as he pictured to himself -his mother’s consternation at beholding that man in her drawing-room. -But he did not mention the deacon, though he acknowledged that Katy’s -family friends were not exactly the Cameron style. But Katy was young: -Katy could be easily moulded, and once away from her old associates, his -mother and sisters could make of her what they pleased. - -“I understand, then, that if you marry her you do not marry the family,” -and in the handsome matronly face there was an expression from which -Katy would have shrunk, could she have seen it and understood its -meaning. - -“No, I do not marry the family,” Wilford rejoined emphatically, but the -expression of his face was different from his mother’s, for where she -thought only of herself, not hesitating to trample on all Katy’s love of -home and friends, Wilford remembered Katy, thinking how he would make -amends for separating her wholly from her home as he surely meant to do -if he should win her. “Did I tell you,” he continued, “that her father -was a judge? She must be well connected on that side. And now, what -shall I do?” he asked playfully. “Shall I propose to Katy Lennox, or -shall I try to forget her?” - -“I should not do either,” was Mrs. Cameron’s reply, for she knew that -trying to forget her was the surest way of keeping her in mind, and she -dared not confess to him how determined she was that Katy Lennox should -never be her daughter if she could prevent it. - -If she could not, then as a lady and a woman of policy, she should make -the most of it, receiving Katy kindly and doing her best to educate her -up to the Cameron ideas of style and manner. - -“Let matters take their course for awhile,” she said, “and see how you -feel after a little. We are going to Newport the first of August, and -perhaps you may find somebody there infinitely superior to this Katy -Lennox. That’s your father’s ring. He is earlier than usual to-night. I -would not tell him yet, till you are more decided,” and the lady went -hastily out into the hall to meet her husband. - -A moment more and the elder Cameron appeared—a short, square-built man, -with a face seamed with lines of care and eyes much like Wilford’s, save -that the shaggy eyebrows gave them a different expression. He was very -glad to see his son, though he merely shook his hand, asking what -nonsense took him off around the Lakes with Mrs. Woodhull, and wondering -if women were never happy unless they were chasing after fashion. The -elder Cameron was evidently not of his wife’s way of thinking, but she -let him go on until he was through, and then, with the most unruffled -mien, suggested that his dinner would be cold. He was accustomed to that -and so he did not mind, but he hurried through his lonely meal to-night, -for Wilford was home, and the father was always happier when he knew his -son was in the house. Contrary to his usual custom, he spent the short -summer evening in the parlor, talking with Wilford on various items of -business, and thus preventing any further conversation concerning Katy -Lennox. It took but a short time for Wilford to fall back into his old -way of living, passing a few hours of each day in his office, driving -with his mother, sparring with his imperious sister Juno, and teasing -his blue sister Bell, but never after that first night breathing a word -to any one of Katy Lennox. And still Katy was not forgotten, as his -mother sometimes believed. On the contrary, the very silence he kept -concerning her increased his passion, until he began seriously to -contemplate a trip to Silverton. The family’s removal to Newport, -however, diverted his attention for a little, making him decide to wait -and see what Newport might have in store for him. But Newport was dull -this season, though Juno and Bell both found ample scope for their -different powers of attraction, and his mother was always happy when -showing off her children and knowing that they were appreciated, but -with Wilford it was different. Listless and taciturn, he went through -with the daily routine, wondering how he had ever found happiness there, -and finally, at the close of the season, casting all policy and prudence -aside, he wrote to Katy Lennox that he was coming to Silverton on his -way home, and that he presumed he should have no difficulty in finding -his way to the farm-house. - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - PREPARING FOR THE VISIT. - - -Katy had waited very anxiously for a letter from Wilford, and as the -weeks went by and nothing came, a shadow had fallen upon her spirits and -the family missed something from her ringing laugh and frolicsome ways, -while she herself wondered at the change which had come over everything. -Even the light household duties she used to enjoy so much, were irksome -to her and she enjoyed nothing except going with Uncle Ephraim into the -fields where she could sit alone while he worked nearby, or to ride with -Morris as she sometimes did when he made his round of calls. She was not -as good as she used to be, she thought, and with a view of making -herself better she took to teaching in Morris and Helen’s Sunday-School, -greatly to the distress of Aunt Betsy, who groaned bitterly when both -her nieces adopted the “Episcopal quirks,” forsaking entirely the house -where, Sunday after Sunday, her old-fashioned leghorn, with its faded -ribbon of green was seen, bending down in the humble worship which God -so much approves. But teaching in Sunday-school, taken by itself, could -not make Katy better, and the old restlessness remained until the -morning when, sitting on the grass beneath the apple-tree, she read that -Wilford Cameron was coming; then everything was changed and Katy never -forgot the brightness of that day when the robins sang so merrily above -her head, and all nature seemed to sympathize with her joy. There was no -shadow around her now, nothing but hopeful sunshine, and with a bounding -step she sought out Helen to tell her the good news. Helen’s first -remark, however, was a chill upon her spirits. - -“Wilford Cameron coming here? What will he think of us, we are so unlike -him?” - -This was the first time Katy had seriously considered the difference -between her surroundings and those of Wilford Cameron, or how it might -affect him. But Aunt Betsy, who had never dreamed of anything like -Wilford’s home, comforted her, telling her, “if he was any kind of a -chap he wouldn’t be looking round, and if he did, who cared? She guessed -they were as good as he, and as much thought of by the neighbors.” - -Wilford’s letter had been delayed so that the morrow was the day -appointed for his coming, and never was there a busier afternoon at the -farm-house than the one which followed the receipt of the letter. -Everything not spotlessly clean before was made so now, Aunt Betsy, in -her petticoat and short gown, going down upon her knees to scrub the -back door-sill, as if the city guest were expected to notice that. On -Aunt Hannah and Mrs. Lennox devolved the duty of preparing for the wants -of the inner man, while Helen and Katy bent their energies to -beautifying their home and making the most of their plain furniture. - -The “spare bedroom,” kept for company, was only large enough to admit -the high-post bed, a single chair, and the old-fashioned wash-stand, -with the hole in the top for the bowl, and a drawer beneath for towels; -and the two girls held a consultation as to whether it would not be -better to dispense with the parlor altogether, and give that room to -their visitor. But this was vetoed by Aunt Betsy, who, having finished -the back door-sill, had now come round to the front, and with her -scrubbing-brush in one hand and her saucer of sand in the other, held -forth upon the foolishness of the girls. - -“Of course, if they had a beau, they’d want a t’other room, else where -would they do their sparkin’?” - -That settled it. The parlor must remain as it was, Katy said, and Aunt -Betsy went on with her scouring, while Helen and Katy consulted together -how to make the huge feather bed more like the mattresses to which -Wilford must be accustomed. Helen’s mind being the more suggestive, -solved the problem first, and a large comfortable was brought from the -box in the garret and folded carefully over the bed, which, thus -hardened and flattened, “seemed like a mattress,” Katy said, for she -tried it, feeling quite well satisfied with the room when it was -finished. And certainly it was not uninviting, with its strip of bright -carpeting upon the floor, its vase of flowers upon the stand, and its -white-fringed curtain sweeping back from the narrow window. - -“I’d like to sleep here myself,” was Katy’s comment, while Helen offered -no opinion, but followed her sister into the yard, where they were to -sweep the grass and prune the early September flowers. - -This afforded Aunt Betsy a chance to reconnoitre and criticise, which -last she did unsparingly. - -“What have them children been doin’ to that bed? Put on a quilt, as I’m -alive! It would break my back to lie there, and this _Carmon_ is none of -the youngest, accordin’ to their tell; nigh onto thirty, if not turned. -It will make his bones ache, of course. I am glad I know better than to -treat visitors that way. The comforter may stay, but I’ll be bound I’ll -make it softer!” And stealing up the stairs, Aunt Betsy brought down a -second feather bed, much lighter than the one already on, but still -large enough to suggest the thought of smothering. This she had made -herself, intending it as a part of Katy’s “setting out,” should she ever -marry; and as things now seemed tending that way, it was only right, she -thought, that Mr. Carmon, as she called him, should begin to have the -benefit of it. Accordingly _two_ beds, instead of one, were placed -beneath the comfortable, which Aunt Betsy permitted to remain. - -“I’m mighty feared they’ll find me out,” she said, taking great pains in -the making of her bed, and succeeding so well that when her task was -done there was no perceptible difference between Helen’s bed and her -own, except that the latter was a few inches higher than the former, and -more nearly resembled a pincushion in shape. - -There was but little chance for Aunt Betsy to be detected, for Helen, -supposing the room to be in order, had dismissed it from her mind, and -was training a rose over a frame, while Katy was on her way to Linwood -in quest of various little things which Mrs. Lennox considered -indispensable to the entertainment of a man like Wilford Cameron. Morris -was out on his piazza, enjoying the fine prospect he had of the sun -shining across the pond, on the Silverton hill, and just gilding the top -of the little church nestled in the valley. At sight of Katy he rose and -greeted her with the kind, brotherly manner now habitual with him, for -he had learned to listen quite calmly while Katy talked to him, as she -often did, of Wilford Cameron, never trying to conceal from him how -anxious she was for some word of remembrance, and often asking if he -thought Mr. Cameron would ever write to her. It was hard at first for -Morris to listen, and harder still to keep back the passionate words of -love trembling on his lips—to refrain from asking her to take him in -Cameron’s stead—him who had loved her so long. But Morris had kept -silence, and as the weeks went by there came insensibly into his heart a -hope, or rather conviction, that Wilford Cameron had forgotten the -little girl who might in time turn to him, gladdening his home just as -she did every spot where her fairy footsteps trod. Morris did not fully -know that he was hugging this fond dream until he felt the keen pang -which cut like a dissector’s knife as Katy, turning her bright, eager -face up to him, whispered softly, “He’s coming to-morrow—he surely is; I -have his letter to tell me so.” - -Morris could not see the sunshine upon the distant hills, although it -lay there just as purple and warm as it had a moment before. There was -an instant of darkness, in which the hills, the pond, the sun-setting, -and Katy seemed a great way off to Morris, trying so hard to be calm, -and mentally asking for help to do so. But Katy’s hat, which she swung -in her hand, had become entangled in the vines encircling one of the -pillars of the piazza, and so she did not notice him until all traces of -his agitation were past, and he could talk with her concerning Wilford; -then playfully lifting her basket he asked what she had come to get. - -This was not the first time the great house had rendered a like service -to the little house, and so Katy did not blush when she explained that -her mother wanted Morris’s forks, and salt-cellars, and spoons, and -would he be kind enough to bring the caster over himself, and come to -dinner to-morrow at two o’clock, and would he go for Mr. Cameron? The -forks, and salt-cellars, and spoons, and caster were cheerfully -promised, while Morris consented to go for the guest; and then Katy came -to the rest of her errand, the part distasteful to her, inasmuch as it -concerned Uncle Ephraim—honest, unsophisticated Uncle Ephraim, _who -would come to the table in his shirt sleeves_! This was the burden of -her grief—the one thing she dreaded most, because she knew how such an -act was looked upon by Mr. Cameron who, never having lived in the -country a day in his life, except as he was either guest or traveler, -could not make due allowance for these little departures from -refinement, so obnoxious to people of his training. - -“What is it, Katy?” Morris asked, as he saw how she hesitated, and -guessed her errand was not all told. - -“I hope you will not think me foolish or wicked,” Katy began, her eyes -filling with tears, as she felt that she might be doing Uncle Ephraim a -wrong by admitting that in any way he could be improved. “I certainly -love Uncle Ephraim dearly, and _I_ do not mind his ways, but—but—Mr. -Cameron may—that is, oh, Cousin Morris, _did_ you ever notice how Uncle -Ephraim will persist in coming to the table in his shirt sleeves?” - -“_Persist_ is hardly the word to use,” Morris replied, smiling -comically, as he readily understood Katy’s misgivings. “Persist would -imply his having been often remonstrated with for that breach of -etiquette; whereas I doubt whether the idea that it was not in strict -accordance with politeness was ever suggested to him.” - -“Maybe not,” Katy answered. “It was never necessary till now, and I feel -so disturbed, for I want Mr. Cameron to like him, and if he does that I -am sure he won’t.” - -“Why do you think so?” Morris asked, and Katy replied, “He is so -particular, and was so very angry at a little hotel between Lakes George -and Champlain, where we took our dinner before going on the boat. There -was a man along—a real good-natured man, too, so kind to everybody—and, -as the day was warm, he carried his coat on his arm, and sat down to the -table right opposite me. Mr. Cameron was _so_ indignant, and said such -harsh things, which the man heard I am sure, for he put on his coat -directly, and I saw him afterward on the boat, sweating like rain, and -looking so sorry, as if he had been guilty of something wrong. I am -sure, though, he had not?” - -This last was spoken interrogatively, and Morris replied: “There is -nothing wrong or wicked in going without one’s coat. Everything depends -upon the circumstances under which it is done. For _me_ to appear at -table in my shirt sleeves would be very rude, but for an old man like -Uncle Ephraim to do so is a very different thing. Still, Mr. Cameron may -see from another standpoint. But I would not distress myself. That love -is not worth much which would think the less of you for anything _outré_ -which Uncle Ephraim may do. If Mr. Cameron cannot stand the test of -seeing your relatives as they are, he is not worth the long face you are -wearing,” and Morris pinched her cheek playfully. - -“Yes, I know,” Katy replied, “but if you only could manage Uncle Eph, I -should be so glad.” - -Morris had little hope of breaking a habit of years, but he promised to -try if an opportunity should occur, and as Mrs. Hull, the housekeeper, -had by this time gathered up the articles required for the morrow, -Morris took the basket in his own hands and went with Katy across the -fields. - -“God bless you, Katy, and may Mr. Cameron’s visit bring you as much -happiness as you anticipate,” he said, as he set her basket upon the -doorstep and turned back without entering the house. - -Katy noticed the peculiar tone of his voice, and again there swept over -her the same thrill she had felt when Morris first said to her, “And did -Katy like this Mr. Cameron?” but so far was she from guessing the truth -that she only feared she might have displeased him by what she had said -of Uncle Ephraim. Perhaps she _had_ wronged him, she thought, and the -good old man, resting from his hard day’s toil, in his accustomed chair, -with not only his coat, but his vest and boots cast aside, little -guessed what prompted the caresses which Katy lavished upon him, sitting -in his lap and parting his snowy hair, as if thus she would make amends -for any injury done. Little Katy-did he called her, looking fondly into -her bright, pretty face, and thinking how terrible it would be to see -that face shadowed with pain and care. Somehow, of late, Uncle Ephraim -was always thinking of such a calamity as more than possible for Katy, -and when that night she knelt beside him, his voice was full of pleading -earnestness as he prayed that God would keep them all in safety, and -bring to none of them more grief or pain than was necessary to fit them -for himself. And Katy, listening to him, remembered the talk down in the -meadow, when she sat on the rock beneath the butternut tree. But the -world, while it held Wilford Cameron, as he seemed to her now, was too -full of joy for her to dread what the future might have in store for -her, and so she arose from her knees, thinking only how long it would be -before to-morrow noon, wondering if Wilford would surely be there next -time their evening prayers were said, and if he would notice Uncle -Ephraim’s shocking grammar! - - - - - CHAPTER V. - WILFORD’S VISIT. - - -Wilford had made the last change of cars, and when he stopped again it -would be at Silverton. He did not expect any one to meet him, but as he -remembered the man whom he had seen greeting Katy, he thought it not -unlikely that he might be there now, laughing to himself as he pictured -his mother’s horror, could she see him riding along in the corn-colored -vehicle which Uncle Ephraim drove. But that vehicle was safe at home -beneath the shed, while Uncle Ephraim was laying a stone wall upon the -huckleberry hill, and the handsome carriage waiting at Silverton depot -was certainly unexceptionable; while in the young man who, as the train -stopped and Wilford stepped out upon the platform, came to meet him, -asking if he were Mr. Cameron, Wilford recognized the true gentleman, -and his spirits rose at once as Morris said to him, “I am Miss Lennox’s -cousin, deputed by her to take charge of you for a time.” - -Wilford had heard of Dr. Morris Grant and of his kindness to poor little -Jamie, who died in Paris; he had heard too that his proud sister Juno -had tried her powers of coquetry in vain upon the grave American; but he -had no suspicion that his new acquaintance was the one until Morris -mentioned having met his family in France and inquired after their -welfare. - -After that the conversation became very familiar, and the ride seemed so -short that Wilford was surprised when, as they turned a corner in the -sandy road, Morris pointed to the farm-house, saying: “We are almost -there—that is the place.” - -“_That!_” and Wilford’s voice indicated his disappointment, for in all -his mental pictures of Katy Lennox’s home he had never imagined anything -like this. - -Large, rambling and weird-like, with something lofty and imposing, just -because it was so ancient, was the house he had in his mind, and he -could not conceal his chagrin as his eye took in the small, low -building, with its high windows and tiny panes of glass, paintless and -blindless, standing there alone among the hills. Morris understood it -perfectly; but without seeming to notice it, remarked, “It is the oldest -house probably in the country, and should be invaluable on that account. -I think we Americans are too fond of change and too much inclined to -throw aside all that reminds us of the past. Now I like the farm-house -just because it is old and unpretentious.” - -“Yes, certainly,” Wilford answered, looking ruefully around him at the -stone wall, half tumbled down, the tall well-sweep, and the patch of -sun-flowers in the garden, with Aunt Betsy bending behind them, picking -tomatoes for dinner, and shading her eyes with her hand to look at him -as he drove up. - -It was all very rural, no doubt, and very charming to people who liked -it, but Wilford did _not_ like it, and he was wishing himself safely in -New York when a golden head flashed for an instant before the window and -then disappeared as Katy emerged into view, waiting at the door to -receive him and looking so sweetly in her dress of white with the -scarlet geranium blossoms in her hair that Wilford forgot the homeliness -of the surroundings, thinking only of her and how soft and warm was the -little hand he held as she led him into the parlor. He did not know she -was so beautiful, he said to himself, and he feasted his eyes upon her, -forgetful for a time of all else. But afterwards, when Katy left him for -a moment, he had time to observe the well-worn carpet, the six -cane-seated chairs, large stuffed rocking-chair, the fall-leaf table, -with its plain wool spread, and lastly the really expensive piano, the -only handsome piece of furniture the room contained, and which he -rightly guessed must have come from Morris. - -“What _would_ Juno or Mark say?” he kept repeating to himself half -shuddering as he recalled the bantering proposition to accompany him -made by Mark Ray, the only young man whom he considered fully his equal -in New York. - -Wilford knew these feelings were unworthy of him, and he tried to shake -them off, listlessly turning over the books upon the table—books which -betokened in someone both taste and talent of no low order. - -“Mark’s favorite,” he said, lifting up a volume of Schiller; and turning -to the fly-leaf he read, “Helen Lennox, from Cousin Morris,” just as -Katy returned with her sister, whom she presented to the stranger. - -Helen was prepared to like him because Katy did, and her first thought -was that he was very fine looking; but when she met his cold, proud -eyes, and knew how closely he was scrutinizing her, there arose in her -heart a feeling of dislike which she could never wholly conquer. He was -very polite to her, but something in his manner annoyed and irritated -her, it was so cool, so condescending, as if he endured her merely -because she was Katy’s sister, nothing more. - -“Rather pretty, more character than Katy, but odd and self-willed, with -no kind of style,” was Wilford’s running comment on Helen as he took her -in from the plain arrangement of her dark hair to the fit of her French -calico and the cut of her linen collar. - -Fashionable dress would improve her very much, he thought, turning with -a feeling of relief to Katy, whom nothing could disfigure, and who was -now watching the door eagerly for the entrance of her mother. That lady -had spent a good deal of time at her toilet, and she came in at last, -flurried, fidgety, and very red, both from exercise and the bright-hued -ribbons streaming from her cap and sadly at variance with the color of -the dress. Wilford noticed the discrepancy at once, and noticed too how -little style there was about the nervous woman greeting him so -deferentially, and evidently regarding him as something infinitely -superior to herself. Wilford had looked with indifference on Helen, but -it would take a stronger word to express his opinion of the mother. -Morris, who remained to dinner, was in the parlor now, and in his -presence Wilford felt more at ease, more as if he had found an affinity. -Uncle Ephraim was not there, having eaten his bowl of milk and gone back -to his stone wall, so that upon Morris devolved the duties of host, and -he courteously led the way to the little dining-room, where the table -was loaded with the good things Aunt Hannah had prepared, burning and -browning her wrinkled face, which nevertheless smiled pleasantly upon -the stranger presented as Mr. Cameron. - -About Aunt Hannah there was something naturally lady-like, and Wilford -recognized it at once; but when it came to Aunt Betsy, of whom he had -never heard, he felt for a moment as if by being there in such -promiscuous company he had somehow fallen from the Camerons’ high -estate. By way of pleasing the girls and doing honor to their guest, -Aunt Betsy had donned her very best attire, wearing the slate-colored -pongee dress, bought twenty years before, and actually sporting a set of -Helen’s cast-off hoops, which being too large for the dimensions of her -scanty skirt, gave her anything but the graceful appearance she -intended. - -“Oh, auntie!” was Katy’s involuntary exclamation, while Helen bit her -lip with vexation, for the _hoop_ had been an afterthought to Aunt Betsy -just before going in to dinner. - -But the good old lady never dreamed of shocking anyone with her attempts -at fashion; and curtsying very low to Mr. Cameron, she hoped for a -better acquaintance, and then took her seat at the table, just where -each movement could be distinctly seen by Wilford, scanning her so -intently as scarcely to hear the reverent words with which Morris asked -a blessing upon themselves and the food so abundantly prepared. They -could hardly have gotten through that first dinner without Morris, who -adroitly led the conversation into channels which he knew would interest -Mr. Cameron, and divert his mind from what was passing around him, and -so the dinner proceeded quietly enough, Wilford discovering, ere its -close, that Mrs. Lennox had really some pretensions to a lady, while -Helen’s dress and collar ceased to be obnoxious, as he watched the play -of her fine features and saw her eyes kindle as she took a modest part -in the conversation when it turned on books and literature. - -Meanwhile Katy kept very silent, but when, after dinner was over and -Morris was gone, she went with Wilford down to the shore of the pond, -her tongue was loosed, and he found again the little fairy who had so -bewitched him a few weeks before. And yet there was a load upon his -heart, a shadow upon his brow, for he knew now that between Katy’s -family and his there was a social gulf which never could be crossed by -either party. He might bear Katy over, it was true, but would she not -look longingly back to her humble home, and might he not sometimes be -greatly chagrined by the sudden appearing of some one of this low-bred -family who did not seem to realize how ignorant they were, or how far -below him in the social scale? Poor Wilford! he winced and shivered when -he thought of Aunt Betsy, in her antiquated pongee, and remembered that -she was a near relative of the little maiden sporting so playfully -around him, stealing his heart away in spite of his family pride, and -making him more deeply in love than ever. It was very pleasant down by -the pond, and Wilford kept Katy there until the sun was going down and -they heard in the distance the tinkle of a bell as the deacon’s cows -plodded slowly homeward. Supper was waiting for them, and with his -appetite sharpened by his walk, Wilford found no cause of complaint -against Aunt Hannah’s viands, though he smiled mentally as he accepted -the piece of apple pie Aunt Betsy offered him, saying, by way of -recommendation, that “she made the crust but _Catherine_ peeled and -sliced the apples.” - -The deacon had not returned from his work, and Wilford did not see him -until he came suddenly upon him, seated in the wood-shed door, resting -after the labor of the day. “The young man was welcome to Silverton,” he -said, “but he must excuse him from visitin’ much that night, for the -cows was to milk and the chores to do, as he never kep’ no boy.” The -“chores” were done at last, just as the clock pointed to half-past -eight, the hour for family worship. Unaccustomed as Wilford was to such -things, he felt the influence of the deacon’s voice as he read from the -word of God, and involuntarily found himself kneeling when Katy knelt, -noticing the deacon’s grammar it is true, but still listening patiently -to the lengthy prayer, which included him together with the rest of -mankind. - -There was no chance of seeing Katy alone, that night, and so full two -hours before his usual custom Wilford retired to the little room to -which the deacon conducted him, saying, as he put down the lamp, “You’ll -find it pretty snug quarters, I guess, for such a close, muggy night as -this.” - -And truly they were snug quarters, Wilford thought, as he surveyed the -dimensions of the room; but there was no alternative, and a few moments -found him in the centre of the two feather beds, neither Helen nor Katy -having discovered the addition made by Aunt Betsy, and which came near -being the death of the New York guest. To sleep was impossible, and -never for a moment did Wilford lose his consciousness or forget to -accuse himself of being an idiot for coming into that heathenish -neighborhood after a wife when in New York there were so many girls -ready and waiting for him. - -“I’ll go back to-morrow morning,” he said, striking a match he consulted -his Railway Guide to find when the first train passed Silverton, feeling -comforted to know that only a few hours intervened between him and -freedom. - -But alas for Wilford! He was but a man, subject to man’s caprices, and -when next morning he met Katy Lennox, looking in her light muslin as -pure and fair as the white blossoms twined in her wavy hair, his -resolution began to waver. Perhaps there was a decent hotel in -Silverton; he would inquire of Dr. Grant; at all events he would not -take the first train, though he might the next; and so he stayed, eating -fried apples and beefsteak, but forgetting to criticise, in his -appreciation of the rich thick cream poured into his coffee, and the -sweet, golden butter, which melted in soft waves upon the flaky rolls. -Again Uncle Ephraim was absent, having gone to mill before Wilford left -his room, nor was he visible to the young man until after dinner, for -Wilford did not go home, but drove instead with Katy in the carriage -which Morris sent round, excusing himself from coming on the plea of -being too busy, but saying he would join them at tea, if possible. -Wilford’s mind was not yet fully made up, so he concluded to remain -another day and see more of Katy’s family. Accordingly, after dinner, he -bent his energies to cultivating them all, from Helen down to Aunt -Betsy, who proved the most transparent of the four. Arrayed again in the -pongee, but this time without the hoop, she came into the parlor, -bringing her calico patch-work, which she informed him was pieced in the -“herrin’ bone pattern” and intended for Katy; telling him further, that -the feather bed on which he slept was also a part of “Catherine’s -setting out,” and was made from feathers she picked herself, showing him -as proof a mark upon her arm, left there by the gray goose, which had -proved a little refractory when she tried to draw a stocking over its -head. - -Wilford groaned and Katy’s chance for being Mrs. Cameron was growing -constantly less and less as he saw more and more how vast was the -difference between the Barlows and himself. Helen, he acknowledged, was -passable, though she was not one whom he could ever introduce into New -York society; and he was wondering how Katy chanced to be so unlike the -rest, when Uncle Ephraim came up from the meadow, and announced himself -as ready now to _visit_, apologizing for his apparent neglect, and -seeming so absolutely to believe that his company was desirable, that -Wilford felt amused, wondering again what Juno, or even Mark Ray, would -think of the rough old man, sitting with his chair tipped back against -the wall, and going occasionally to the door to relieve himself of his -tobacco juice, for chewing was one of the deacon’s weaknesses. His pants -were faultlessly clean, and his vest was buttoned nearly up to his -throat, but his coat was hanging on a nail out by the kitchen door, and, -to Katy’s distress and Wilford’s horror, he sat among them in his shirt -sleeves, all unconscious of harm or of the disquiet awakened in the -bosom of the young man, who on that point was foolishly fastidious, and -who showed by his face how much he was annoyed. Not even the presence of -Morris, who came about tea time, was of any avail to lift the cloud from -his brow, and he seemed moody and silent until supper was announced. -This was the first opportunity Morris had had of trying his powers of -persuasion upon the deacon, and now, at a hint from Katy, he said to him -in an aside, as they were passing into the dining-room: “Suppose, Uncle -Ephraim, you put on your coat for once. It is better than coming to the -table so.” - -“Pooh,” was Uncle Ephraim’s innocent rejoinder, spoken loudly enough for -Wilford to hear, “I shan’t catch cold, for I am used to it; besides -that, I never could stand the racket this hot weather.” - -In his simplicity he did not even suspect Morris’s motive, but imputed -it wholly to concern for his health. And so Wilford Cameron found -himself seated next to a man who wilfully trampled upon all rules of -etiquette, shocking him in his most sensitive points, and making him -thoroughly disgusted with the country and country people generally. All -but Morris and Katy—he _did_ make an exception in their favor, leaning -most to Morris, whom he admired more and more, as he became better -acquainted with him, wondering how he could content himself to settle -down quietly in Silverton, when he would surely die if compelled to live -there for a week. Something like this he said to Dr. Grant, when that -evening they sat together in the handsome parlor at Linwood, for Morris -kindly invited him to spend the night with him. - -“I stay in Silverton, first, because I think I can do more good here -than elsewhere, and secondly, because I really like the country and the -country people; for, strange and uncouth as they may seem to you, who -never lived among them, they have kinder, truer hearts beating beneath -their rough exteriors, than are often in the city.” - -This was Morris’s reply, and in the conversation which ensued Wilford -Cameron caught glimpses of a nobler, higher phase of manhood than he had -thought existed, feeling an unbounded respect for one who, because he -believed it to be his duty, was, as it seemed to him, wasting his life -among people who could not appreciate his character, though they might -idolize the man. But this did not reconcile Wilford one whit the more to -Silverton. Uncle Ephraim had completed the work commenced by the two -feather beds, and at breakfast, next morning, he announced his intention -of returning to New York that day. To this Morris offered no objection, -but asked to be remembered to the mother and sisters, and then invited -Wilford to stop altogether at Linwood when he came again to Silverton. - -“Thank you; but it is hardly probable that I shall be here very soon,” -Wilford replied, adding, as he met the peculiar glance of Morris’s eye, -“I found Miss Katy a delightful traveling acquaintance, and on my way -from Newport thought I would renew it and see a little of rustic life.” - -Poor Katy! how her heart would have ached could she have heard those -words and understood their meaning, just as Morris did, feeling a rising -indignation for the man with whom he could not be absolutely angry, he -was so self-possessed, so pleasant and gentlemanly, while better than -all, was he not virtually giving Katy up? and if he did might she not -turn at last to him? - -These were Morris’s thoughts as he walked with Wilford across the fields -to the farm-house, where Katy met them with her sunniest smile, singing -to them, at Wilford’s request, her sweetest song, and making him half -wish he could revoke his hasty decision and tarry a little longer. But -it was now too late for that, the carriage which would take him to the -depot was already on its way from Linwood; and when the song was ended -he told her of his intentions to leave on the next train, feeling a pang -when he saw how the blood left her cheek and lip, and then came surging -back as she said timidly, “Why need you leave so soon?” - -“I have already outstayed my time. I thought of going yesterday, and my -partner, Mr. Ray, will be expecting me,” Wilford replied, laying his -hand upon Katy’s hair, while Morris and Helen stole quietly from the -room. - -Thus left to himself, Wilford continued, “Maybe I’ll come again -sometime. Would you like to have me?” - -“Yes,” and Katy’s blue eyes were lifted pleadingly to the young man, who -had never loved her so well as at that very moment when resolving to -cast her off. - -For a moment Wilford was strongly tempted to throw all pride aside, and -ask that young girl to be his; but thoughts of his mother, of Juno and -Bell, and more than all, thoughts of Uncle Ephraim and his sister Betsy, -arose in time to prevent it, and so he only kissed her forehead -caressingly as he said good-bye, telling her that he should not soon -forget his visit to Silverton, and then, as the carriage drove up, going -out to where the remainder of the family were standing together and -commenting upon his sudden departure. - -It was not sudden, he said, trying to explain. He really had thought -seriously of going yesterday, and feeling that he had something to atone -for, he tried to be unusually gracious as he shook their hands, thanking -them for their kindness, but seeming wholly oblivious to Aunt Betsy’s -remark that “she hoped to see him again, if not at Silverton, in New -York, where she wanted dreadfully to visit, but never had on account of -the ’bominable prices charged to the taverns, and she hadn’t no -acquaintances there.” - -This was Aunt Betsy’s parting remark, and, after Katy, Aunt Betsy liked -Wilford Cameron better than any one of the group which watched him as he -drove from their door. Aunt Hannah thought him too much stuck up for -farmers’ folks; Mrs. Lennox, whose ambition would have accounted him a -most desirable match for her daughter, could not deny that his manner -towards them, though polite in the extreme, was that of a superior to -people greatly beneath him; while Helen, who saw clearer than the rest, -read him aright, and detected the struggle between his pride and his -love for poor little Katy, whom she found sitting on the floor, just -where Wilford left her standing, her head resting on the chair and her -face hidden in her hands as she sobbed quietly, hardly knowing why she -cried or what to answer when Helen asked what was the matter. - -“It was so queer in him to go so soon,” she said; “just as if he were -offended about something.” - -“Never mind, Katy,” Helen said, soothingly. “If he cares for you he will -come back again. He could not stay here always, of course; and I must -say I respect him for attending to his business, if he has any. He has -been gone from home for weeks, you know.” - -This was Helen’s reasoning; but it did not comfort Katy, whose face -looked white and sad, as she moved listlessly about the house, almost -crying again when she heard in the distance the whistle of the train -which was to carry Wilford Cameron away and end his first visit to -Silverton. - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - IN THE SPRING. - - -Katy Lennox had been very sick, and the bed where Wilford slept had -stood in the parlor during the long weeks while the obstinate fever ran -its course; but she was better now, and sat nearly all day before the -fire, sometimes trying to crochet a little, and again turning over the -books which Morris had bought to interest her—Morris, the kind -physician, who had attended her so faithfully, never leaving her while -the fever was at its height, unless it was necessary, but staying with -her day and night, watching her symptoms carefully, and praying so -earnestly that she might not die, not, at least, until some token had -been given that again in the better world he should find her, where -partings were unknown and where no Wilford Camerons could contest the -prize with him. Not that he was greatly afraid of Wilford now; that fear -had mostly died away just as the hope had died from Katy’s heart that -she would ever meet him again. - -Since the September morning when he left her, she had not heard from him -except once, when in the winter Morris had been to New York, and having -a few hours’ leisure on his hands had called at Wilford’s office, -receiving a most cordial reception, and meeting with Mark Ray, who -impressed him as a man quite as highly cultivated as Wilford, and -possessed of more character and principle. This call was not altogether -of Morris’s seeking, but was made rather with a view to pleasing Katy, -who, when she learned that he was going to New York, had said -inadvertently, “Oh, I do so hope you’ll meet with Mr. Cameron, for then -we shall know that he is neither sick nor dead, as I have sometimes -feared.” - -And so Morris had sought his rival, feeling repaid for the effort it had -cost him, when he saw how glad Wilford seemed to meet him. The first -commonplaces over, Wilford inquired for Katy. Was she well, and how was -she occupying her time this winter? - -“Both Helen and Katy are pupils of mine,” Morris replied, “reciting -their lessons to me every day when the weather will admit of their -crossing the fields to Linwood. We have often wondered what had become -of you, that you did not even let us know of your safe arrival home,” he -added, looking Wilford fully in the eye, and rather enjoying his -confusion as he tried to apologize. - -He had intended writing, but an unusual amount of business had occupied -his time. “Mark will tell you how busy I was,” and he turned appealingly -to his partner, in whose expressive eyes Morris read that Silverton was -not unknown to him. - -But if Wilford had told him anything derogatory of the farm-house or its -inmates, it did not appear in Mr. Ray’s manner, as he replied that Mr. -Cameron had been very busy ever since his return from Silverton, adding, -“From what Cameron tells me of your neighborhood, there must be some -splendid hunting and fishing there, and I had last fall half a mind to -try it.” - -This time there was something comical in the eyes turned so -mischievously upon Wilford, who colored scarlet for an instant, but soon -recovered his composure, and invited Morris home with him to dinner. - -“I shall not take a refusal,” he said, as Morris began to decline. -“Mother and the young ladies will be delighted to see you again. Mark -will go with us, of course.” - -There was something so hearty in Wilford’s invitation that Morris did -not again object, and two hours later found him in the drawing-room at -No.—— Fifth Avenue, receiving the friendly greetings of Mrs. Cameron and -her daughters, each of whom vied with the other in their polite -attentions to him. - -Morris did not regret having accepted Wilford’s invitation to dinner, as -by this means he saw the home which had well nigh been little Katy -Lennox’s. She would be sadly out of place here with these people, he -thought, and he looked upon all their formality and ceremony, and then -contrasted it with what Katy had been accustomed to. Juno would kill her -outright, was his next mental comment, as he watched that haughty young -lady, dividing her coquetries between himself and Mr. Ray, who being -every way desirable, both in point of family and wealth, was evidently -her favorite. She had colored scarlet when first presented to Dr. Grant, -and her voice had trembled as she took his offered hand, for she -remembered the time when her liking had not been concealed, and was only -withdrawn at the last because she found how useless it was to waste her -affections upon one who did not prize them. - -When Wilford first returned from Silverton he had, as a sure means of -forgetting Katy, told his mother and sister something of the farm-house -and its inmates; and Juno, while ridiculing both Helen and Katy, had -felt a fierce pang of jealousy in knowing they were cousins to Morris -Grant, who lived so near that he could, if he liked, see them every day. -In Paris Juno had suspected that somebody was standing between her and -Dr. Grant, and with the quick insight of a smart, bright woman, she -guessed that it was one of these cousins—Katy most likely, her brother -having described Helen as very commonplace,—and for a time she had hated -poor, innocent Katy most cordially for having come between her and the -only man for whom she had ever really cared. Gradually, however, the -feeling died away, but was revived again at sight of Morris Grant, and -at the table she could not forbear saying to him, - -“By the way, Dr. Grant, why did you never tell us of those charming -cousins, when you were in Paris? Brother Will describes one of them as a -little water lily, she is so fair and pretty. Katy, I think, is her -name. Wilford, isn’t it Katy Lennox whom you think so beautiful, and -with whom you are more than half in love?” - -“Yes, it _is_ Katy,” and Wilford spoke sternly, for he did not like -Juno’s bantering tone, but he could not stop her, and she went on, - -“Are they your own cousins, Dr. Grant?” - -“No, they are removed from me two or three degrees, their father having -been only my second cousin.” - -The fact that Katy Lennox was not nearly enough related to Dr. Grant to -prevent his marrying her if he liked, did not improve Juno’s amiability, -and she continued to ask questions concerning both Katy and Helen, the -latter of whom she persisted in thinking was strong-minded, until Mark -Ray came to the rescue, diverting her attention by adroitly -complimenting her in some way, and so relieving Wilford and Morris, both -of whom were exceedingly annoyed. - -“When Will visits Silverton again I mean to go with him,” she said to -Morris at parting, but he did not tell her that such an event would give -him the greatest pleasure. On the contrary, he merely replied, - -“If you do you will find plenty of room at Linwood for those four trunks -which I remember seeing in Paris, and your brother will tell you whether -I am a hospitable host or not.” - -Biting her lip with chagrin, Juno went back to the drawing-room, while -Morris returned to his hotel, accompanied by Wilford, who passed the -entire evening with him, appearing somewhat constrained, as if there was -something on his mind which he wished to say; but it remained unspoken, -and there was no allusion to Silverton until, as Wilford was leaving, he -said, - -“Remember me kindly to the Silverton friends, and say I have not -forgotten them.” - -And this was all there was to carry back to Katy, who on the afternoon -of Morris’s return from New York was at Linwood, waiting to pour his tea -and make his toast, she pretended, though the real reason was shining -all over her tell-tale face, which grew so bright and eager when Morris -said, - -“I dined at Mr. Cameron’s, Kitty.” - -But the brightness gradually faded as Morris described his call and then -repeated Wilford’s message. - -“And that was all,” Katy whispered sorrowfully as she beat the damask -cloth softly with her fingers, shutting her lips tightly together to -keep back her disappointment. - -When Morris glanced at her again there was a tear on her long eyelashes, -and it dropped upon her cheek, followed by another and another, but he -did not seem to see it, and talked of New York and the fine sights in -Broadway until Katy was able to take part in the conversation. - -“Please don’t tell _Helen_ that you saw Wilford,” she said to Morris as -he walked home with her after tea, and that was the only allusion she -made to it, never after that mentioning Wilford’s name or giving any -token of the love still so strong within her heart, and waiting only for -some slight token to waken it again to life and vigor. - -This was in the winter, and Katy had been very sick since then, while -Morris had come to believe that Wilford was forgotten, and when, as she -grew stronger, he saw how her eyes sparkled at his coming, and how -impatient she seemed if he was obliged to hurry off, hope whispered that -she would surely be his, and his usually grave face wore a look of -happiness which his patients noticed, feeling themselves better after -one of his cheery visits. Poor Morris! he was little prepared for the -terrible blow in store for him, when one day early in April he started, -as usual, to visit Katy, saying to himself, “If I find her alone, -perhaps I’ll ask if she will come to Linwood this summer;” and Morris -paused a moment beneath a beechwood tree to still the throbbings of his -heart, which beat so fast as he thought of going home from his weary -work and finding Kate there, his little wife—whom he might caress and -love all his affectionate nature would prompt him to. He knew that in -some points she was weak, but then she was very young, and there was -about her so much of purity, innocence, and perfect beauty, that few -men, however strong their intellect, could withstand her, and Morris -felt that in possessing her he should have all he needed to make this -life desirable. She would improve as she grew older, and it would be a -most delightful task to train her into what she was capable of becoming. -Alas for Dr. Morris! He was very near the farm-house now, and there were -only a few minutes between him and the cloud which would darken his -horizon so completely. Katy was alone, sitting up in her pretty dressing -gown of blue, which was so becoming to her pure complexion. Her hair, -which had been all cut away during her long sickness, was growing out -again somewhat darker than before, and lay in rings upon her head, -making her look more childish than ever. But to this Morris did not -object. He liked to have her a child, and he thought he had never seen -her so beautiful as she was this morning, when, with glowing cheek and -dancing eyes, she greeted him as he came in. - -“Oh, Dr. Morris!” she began, holding up a letter she had in her hand, “I -am so glad you’ve come! Wilford has not forgotten me. He has written, -and he is coming again, if I will let him; I _am_ so glad! Ain’t you? -Seeing you knew all about it, and never told Helen, I’ll let you read -the letter.” - -And she held it toward the young man leaning against the mantel and -panting for the breath which came so heavily. - -Something he said apologetically about being _snow blind_, for there was -that day quite a fall of soft spring snow; and then, with a mighty -effort which made his heart quiver with pain, Morris was himself once -more, and took the letter in his hand. - -“Perhaps I ought not to read it,” he said, but Katy insisted, and -thinking to himself, “It will cure me sooner perhaps,” he read the few -lines Wilford Cameron had written to his “dear little Katy.” - -That was the way he addressed her, going on to say that circumstances -which he could not explain to her had kept him silent ever since he left -her the previous autumn; but through all he never for a moment had -forgotten her, thinking of her the more for the silence he had -maintained. “And now that I have risen above the circumstances,” he -added, in conclusion, “I write to ask if I may come to Silverton again? -If I may, just drop me one word, ‘come,’ and in less than a week I shall -be there. Yours very truly, W. Cameron.” - -Morris read the letter through, feeling that every word was separating -him further and further from Katy, to whom he said, “You will answer -this?” - -“Yes, oh yes; perhaps to-day.” - -“And you will tell him to come?” - -“Why,—what else should I tell him?” and Katy’s blue eyes looked -wonderingly at Morris, who hardly knew what he was doing, or why he said -to her next, “Listen to me, Katy. You know why Wilford Cameron comes -here a second time, and what he will probably ask you ere he goes away: -but, Katy, you are not strong enough yet to see him under so exciting -circumstances, and, as your physician, I desire that you tell him to -wait at least three weeks before he comes. Will you do so, Katy?” - -“That is just as Helen talked,” Katy answered mournfully. “She said I -was not able.” - -“And will you heed us?” Morris asked again, while Katy after a moment -consented, and glad of this respite from what he knew to a certainty -would be, Morris dealt out her medicine, and for an instant felt her -rapid pulse, but did not retain her hand within his own, nor lay his -other upon her head, as he had sometimes done. - -He could not do that now, so he hurried away, finding the world into -which he went far different from what it had seemed an hour ago. Then -all was bright and hopeful; but now, alas! a darker night was gathering -round him than any he had ever known, and the patients visited that day -marveled at the whiteness of his face, asking if he were ill. Yes, he -answered them truly, and for two days he was not seen again, but -remained at home alone, where none but his God was witness to what he -suffered; but when the third day came he went again among his sick, -grave, quiet and unchanged in outward appearance, unless it was that his -voice, always so kind, had now a kinder tone and his manner was -tenderer, more sympathizing. Inwardly, however, there was a change, for -Morris Grant had lain himself upon the sacrificial altar, willing to be -and to endure whatever God should appoint, knowing that all would -eventually be for his good. To the farm-house he went every day, talking -most with Helen now, but never forgetting who it was sitting so demurely -in the arm-chair, or flitting about the room, for Katy was gaining -rapidly. Love perhaps had had nothing to do with her dangerous illness, -but it had much to do with her recovery, and those not in the secret -wondered to see how she improved, her cheeks growing round and full and -her eyes shining with returning health and happiness. - -At Helen’s instigation Katy had deferred Wilford’s visit four weeks -instead of three, but in that time there had come two letters from him, -so full of anxiety and sympathy for “his poor little Katy who had been -so sick,” that even Helen began to think that he was not as proud and -heartless as she supposed, and that he did love her sister after all. - -“If I supposed he meant to deceive her I should wish I was a man to -cowhide him,” she said to herself, with flashing eye, as she heard Katy -exulting that he was coming “to-morrow.” - -This time he would stop at Linwood, for Katy had asked Morris if he -might, while Morris had told her yes, feeling his heart-wound throb -afresh, as he thought how hard it would be to entertain his rival. Of -himself Morris could do nothing, but with the help he never sought in -vain he could do all things, and so he gave orders that the best chamber -should be prepared for his guest, bidding Mrs. Hull see that no pains -were spared for his entertainment, and then with Katy he waited for the -day, the last one in April, which would bring Wilford Cameron a second -time to Silverton. - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - WILFORD’S SECOND VISIT. - - -Wilford Cameron had tried to forget Katy Lennox, both for his sake and -her own, for he foresaw that she could not be happy with his family, and -he came to think it might be a wrong to her to transplant her into a -soil so wholly unlike that in which her habits and affections had taken -root. - -His father once had abruptly asked him if there was any truth in the -report that he was about to marry and make a fool of himself, and when -Wilford had answered “No,” he had replied with a significant - -“Umph! Old enough, I should think, if you ever intend to marry. -Wilford,” and the old man faced square about, “I know nothing of the -girl, except what I gathered from your mother and sisters. You have not -asked my advice. I don’t suppose you want it, but if you do, here it is. -If you love the girl and she is respectable, marry her if she is poor as -poverty and the daughter of a tinker; but if you don’t love her, and -she’s as rich as a nabob, for thunder’s sake keep away from her.” - -This was the elder Cameron’s counsel, and Katy’s cause rose fifty per -cent. in consequence. Still Wilford was sadly disquieted, so much so -that his partner, Mark Ray, could not fail to observe that something was -troubling him, and at last frankly asked what it was. Wilford knew he -could trust Mark, and he confessed the whole, telling him far more of -Silverton than he had told his mother, and then asking what his friend -would do were the case his own. - -Fond of fun and frolic, Mark laughed immoderately at Wilford’s -description of Aunt Betsy bringing her “herrin’ bone” patch-work into -the parlor, and telling him it was a part of Katy’s “settin’ out,” but -when it came to her hint for an invitation to visit New York, the amused -young man roared with laughter, wishing so much that he might live to -see the day when poor Aunt Betsy Barlow stood ringing for admittance at -No.—— Fifth Avenue. - -“Wouldn’t it be rich, though, the meeting between your Aunt Betsy and -Juno?” and the tears fairly poured down the young man’s face. - -But Wilford was too serious for trifling, and after his merriment had -subsided, Mark talked with him candidly of Katy Lennox, whose cause he -warmly espoused, telling Wilford that he was far too sensitive with -regard to family and position. - -“You are a good fellow on the whole, but too outrageously proud,” he -said. “Of course this Aunt Betsy in her _pongee_, whatever that may be, -and the uncle in his shirt sleeves, and this mother whom you describe as -weak and ambitious, are objections which you would rather should not -exist; but if you love the girl, take her, family and all. Not that you -are to transport the whole colony of Barlows to New York,” he added, as -he saw Wilford’s look of horror, “but make up your mind to endure what -cannot be helped, resting yourself upon the fact that your position is -such as cannot well be affected by any marriage you might make, provided -the wife were right.” - -This was Mark Ray’s advice, and it had great weight with Wilford, who -knew that Mark came, if possible, from a better line of ancestry than -himself. And still Wilford hesitated, waiting until the winter was over, -before he came to the decision which, when it was reached, was firm as a -granite rock. He had made up his mind at last to marry Katy Lennox if -she would accept him, and he told his mother so in presence of his -sisters, when one evening they were all kept at home by the rain. There -was a sudden uplifting of Bell’s eyelashes, a contemptuous shrug of her -shoulders, and then she went on with the book she was reading, wondering -if Katy was at all inclined to literature, and thinking if she were that -it might be easier to tolerate her. Juno, who was expected to say the -sharpest things, turned upon him with the exclamation, - -“If you can stand those two feather beds, you can do more than I -supposed,” and as one means of showing her disapproval, she quitted the -room, while Bell, who had taken to writing articles on the follies of -the age, soon followed her sister to elaborate an idea suggested to her -mind by her brother’s contemplated marriage. - -Thus left alone with her son, Mrs. Cameron tried all her powers of -persuasion upon him. But nothing she said influenced him in the least, -seeing which she suddenly confronted him with the question, “Shall you -tell her _all_? A husband should have no secrets of that kind from his -wife.” - -Wilford’s face was white as ashes, and his voice trembled as he replied, -“Yes, mother, I shall tell her all; but, oh! you do not know how hard it -has been for me to bring my mind to that, or how sorry I am that we ever -kept that secret—when Genevra died——” - -“Hush—h!” came warningly from the mother as Juno reappeared, the warning -indicating that Genevra was a name never mentioned, except by mother and -son. - -As Juno remained, the conversation was not resumed, and the next morning -Wilford wrote to Katy Lennox the letter which carried to her so much of -joy, and to Dr. Grant so much of grief. To wait four weeks, as Katy said -he must, was a terrible trial to Wilford, who counted every moment which -kept him from her side. It was all owing to Dr. Grant and that -perpendicular Helen, he knew, for Katy in her letter had admitted that -the waiting was wholly their suggestion; and Wilford’s thoughts -concerning them were anything but complimentary, until a new idea was -suggested, which drove every other consideration from his mind. - -Wilford was naturally _jealous_, but that fault had once led him into so -deep a trouble that he had struggled to overcome it, and now, at its -first approach, after he thought it dead, he tried to shake it off—tried -not to believe that Morris cared especially for Katy. But the mere -possibility was unendurable, and in a most feverish state of excitement -he started again for Silverton. - -As before, Morris was at the station, his cordial greeting and friendly -manner disarming him from all anxiety in that quarter, and making him -resolve anew to trample the demon jealousy under his feet, where it -could never rise again. Katy’s life should not be darkened by the green -monster, he thought, and her future would have been bright indeed had it -proved all that he pictured it as he drove along with Morris in the -direction of the farm-house. - -Katy was waiting for him, and he did not hesitate to kiss her more than -once as he kept her for a moment in his arms, and then held her off to -see if her illness had left any traces upon her. It had not, except it -were in the increased delicacy of her complexion and the short hair now -growing out in silky rings. She was very pretty in her short hair, but -Wilford felt a little impatient as he saw how childish it made her look, -and thought how long it would take for it to attain its former length. -He was already appropriating her to himself, and devising ways of -improving her. In New York, with Morris Grant standing before his -jealous gaze, he could see no fault in Katy, and even now, with her -beside him, and the ogre jealousy gone, he saw no fault in _her_; it was -only her hair, and that would be remedied in time; otherwise she was -perfect, and in his delight at meeting her again he forgot to criticise -the farm-house and its occupants, as he had done before. - -They were very civil to him—the mother overwhelmingly so, and Wilford -could not help detecting her anxiety that all should be settled this -time. Helen, on the contrary, was unusually cool, confirming him in his -opinion that she was strong-minded and self-willed, and making him -resolve to remove Katy as soon as possible from her influence. When -talking with his mother he had said that if Katy told him “yes,” he -should probably place her at some fashionable school for a year or two; -but on the way to Silverton he had changed his mind. He could not wait a -year, and if he married Katy at all, it should be immediately. He would -then take her to Europe, where she could have the best of teachers, -besides the advantage of traveling; and it was a very satisfactory -picture he drew of the woman whom he should introduce into New York -society as his wife, Mrs. Wilford Cameron. It is true that Katy had not -yet said the all-important word, but she was going to say it, and when -late that afternoon they came from the walk he had asked her to take, -she had listened to his tale of love and was his promised wife. Katy was -no coquette; whatever she felt she expressed, and she had frankly -confessed to Wilford her love for him, telling him how the fear that he -had forgotten her had haunted her all the long winter; and then with her -clear, truthful blue eyes looking into his, asking him why he had not -sent her some message if as he said, he loved her all the time. - -For a moment Wilford’s lip was compressed and a flush overspread his -face, as, drawing her closer to him, he replied, “My little Katy will -remember that in my first note I spoke of certain circumstances which -had prevented my writing earlier. I do not know that I asked her not to -seek to know those circumstances; but I ask it now. Will Katy trust me -so far as to believe that all is right between us, and never allude to -these circumstances?” - -He was kissing her fondly, and his voice was so winning that Katy -promised, and then came the hardest, the trying to tell her _all_, as he -had said to his mother he would. Twice he essayed to speak, and as often -something sealed his lips, until at last he began, “You must not think -me perfect, Katy, for I have faults, and perhaps if you knew my past -life you would wish to revoke your recent decision and render a -different verdict to my suit. Suppose I unfold the blackest leaf for -your inspection?” - -“No, no, oh no,” and Katy playfully stopped his mouth with her hand. “Of -course you have some faults, but I would rather find them out by myself. -I could not hear anything against you now. I am satisfied to take you as -you are.” - -Wilford felt his heart throb wildly with the feeling that he was -deceiving the young girl; but if she would not suffer him to tell her, -he was not to be censured if she remained in ignorance. And so the -golden moment fled, and when he spoke again he said, “If Katy will not -now read the leaf I offered to show her, she must not shrink in horror, -if ever it does meet her eye.” - -“I won’t, I promise,” Kate answered, a vague feeling of fear creeping -over her as to what the reading of that mysterious page involved. But -this was soon forgotten, as Wilford, remembering his suspicions of Dr. -Grant, thought to probe her a little by asking if she had ever loved any -one before himself. - -“No, never,” she answered. “I never dreamed of such a thing until I saw -you, Mr. Cameron;” and Wilford believed the trusting girl, whose loving -nature shone in every lineament of her face, upturned to receive the -kisses he pressed upon it, resolving within himself to be to her what he -ought to be. - -“By the way,” he continued, “don’t call me Mr. Cameron again, as you did -just now. I would rather be your Wilford. It sounds more familiar;” and -then he told her of his projected tour to Europe, and Katy felt her -pulses quicken as she thought of London, Paris and Rome, as places which -her plain country eyes might yet look upon. But when it came to their -marriage, which Wilford said must be within a few weeks—she demurred, -for this arrangement was not in accordance with her desires; and she -opposed her lover with all her strength, telling him she was so young, -not eighteen till July, and she knew so little of housekeeping. He must -let her stay at home until she learned at least the art of making bread! - -Poor, ignorant Katy! Wilford could not forbear a smile as he thought how -different were her views from his, and tried to explain that the art of -bread-making, though very desirable in most wives, was _not_ an -essential accomplishment for his. Servants would do that; besides he did -not intend to have a house of his own at once; he should take her first -to live with his mother, where she could learn what was necessary much -better than in Silverton. - -Wilford Cameron expected to be obeyed in every important matter by the -happy person who should be his wife, and as he possessed the faculty of -enforcing perfect obedience without seeming to be severe, so he silenced -Katy’s arguments, and when they left the shadow of the butternut tree -she knew that in all human probability six weeks’ time would find her on -the broad ocean alone with Wilford Cameron. So perfect was Katy’s faith -and love that she had no fear of Wilford now, but as his affianced wife -walked confidently by his side, feeling fully his equal, nor once -dreaming how great the disparity his city friends would discover between -the fastidious man of fashion and the unsophisticated country girl. And -Wilford did not seek to enlighten her, but suffered her to talk of the -delight it would be to live in New York, and how pleasant for mother and -Helen to visit her, especially the latter, who would thus have a chance -to see something of the world. - -“When I get a house of my own I mean she shall live with me all the -while,” she said, stooping to gather a tuft of wild blue-bells growing -in a marshy spot. - -Wilford winced a little, but he would not so soon tear down Katy’s -castles, and so he merely remarked, as she asked if it would not be nice -to have Helen with them, - -“Yes, very nice; but do not speak of it to her yet, as it will probably -be some time before she will come to us.” - -And so Helen never suspected the honor in store for her as she stood in -the doorway anxiously waiting for her sister, who she feared would take -cold from being out so long. Something though in Katy’s face made her -guess that to her was lost forever the bright little sister whom she -loved so dearly, and fleeing up the narrow stairway to her room, she -wept bitterly as she thought of the coming time when she would occupy -that room alone, and know that never again would a little golden head -lie upon her neck just as it had lain, for there would be a new love, a -new interest between them, a love for the man whose voice she could hear -now talking to her mother in the peculiar tone he always assumed when -speaking to any one of them excepting Morris or Katy. - -“I wish it were not wrong to hate him,” she exclaimed passionately; “it -would be such a relief; but if he is only kind to Katy, I do not care -how much he despises us,” and bathing her face, Helen sat down by her -window, wondering, if Mr. Cameron took her sister, when it would -probably be. “Not this year or more,” she said, “for Katy is so young;” -but on this point she was soon set right by Katy herself, who, leaving -her lover alone with her mother, stole up to tell her sister the good -news. - -“Yes, I know; I guessed as much when you came back from the meadows,” -and Helen’s voice was very unsteady in its tone as she smoothed the soft -rings clustering around her sister’s brow. - -“Crying, Helen! oh, don’t. I shall love you just the same, and you are -coming to live with us,” Katy said, forgetting Wilford’s instructions in -her desire to comfort Helen, who broke down again, while Katy’s tears -were mingled with her own. - -It was the first time Katy had thought what it would be to leave forever -the good, patient sister, who had been so kind, treating her like a -petted kitten and standing between her and every hardship. - -“Don’t cry, Nellie,” she said, “New York is not far away, and I shall -come so often, that is, after we return from Europe. Did I tell you we -are going there first, and Wilford will not wait, but says we must be -married the 10th of June?—that’s his birthday—thirty—and he is telling -mother now.” - -“So soon—oh Katy! and you so young!” was all Helen could say, as with -quivering lip she kissed her sister’s hand raised to wipe her tears -away. - -“Yes, it is soon, and I am young: but Wilford is in such a hurry; he -don’t care,” Katy replied, trying to comfort Helen, and begging of her -not to cry so hard. - -No, Wilford did not care how much he wrung the hearts of Katy’s family -by taking her from them at once, and by dictating to a certain extent -the way in which he would take her. There must be no invited guests, he -said; no lookers-on, except such as chose to go to the church where the -ceremony would be performed, and from which place he should go directly -to the Boston train. It was his wish, too, that the matter should be -kept as quiet as possible, and not be generally discussed in the -neighborhood, as he disliked being a subject for gossip. And Mrs. -Lennox, to whom this was said, promised compliance with everything, or -if she ventured to object she found herself borne down by a stronger -will than her own, and weakly yielded, her manner fully testifying to -her delight at the honor conferred upon her by this high marriage of her -child. Wilford knew just how pleased she was, and her obsequious manner -annoyed him far more than Helen’s blunt straightforwardness, when, after -supper was over, she told him how averse she was to his taking Katy so -soon, adding still further that if it must be, she saw no harm in -inviting a few of their neighbors. It was customary, it would be -expected, she said, while Mrs. Lennox, emboldened by Helen’s boldness, -chimed in, “at least your folks will come; I shall be glad to meet your -mother.” - -Wilford was very polite to them both; very good-humored, but he kept to -his first position, and poor Mrs. Lennox saw fade into airy nothingness -all her visions of roasted fowls and frosted cake trimmed with myrtle -and flowers, with hosts of the Silverton people there to admire and -partake of the marriage feast. It was too bad and so Aunt Betsy said, -when, after Wilford had gone to Linwood, the family sat together around -the kitchen stove, talking the matter over. - -“Yes, it was too bad, when there was that white hen-turkey she could fat -up so easy before June, and she knew how to make ’lection cake that -would melt in your mouth, and was enough sight better than the black -stuff they called weddin’ cake. She meant to try what _she_ could do -with Mr. Carmon.” - -And next morning when he came again she did try, holding out as -inducements why he should be married the night before starting for -Boston, the “white hen-turkey, the ’lection cake, and the gay old times -the young folks would have playing snap-and-catchem; or if they had a -mind, they could dance a bit in the kitchen. She didn’t believe in it, -to be sure—none of the Orthodox did; but as Wilford was a ’Piscopal, and -that was a ’Piscopal quirk, it wouldn’t harm for once.” - -Wilford tried not to show his disgust, and only Helen suspected how hard -it was for him to keep down his utter contempt. She saw it in his eyes, -which resembled two smouldering volcanoes as they rested upon Aunt Betsy -during her harangue. - -“Thank you, madam, for your good intentions, but I think we will -dispense with the turkey and the cake,” was all he said, though he did -smile at the old lady’s definition of dancing, which for once she might -allow. - -Even Morris, when appealed to, decided with Wilford against Mrs. Lennox -and Aunt Betsy, knowing how unequal he was to the task which would -devolve on him in case of a bridal party at the farm-house. In -comparative silence he heard from Wilford of his engagement offering no -objection when told how soon the marriage would take place, but -congratulating him so quietly, that if Wilford had retained a feeling of -jealousy, it would have disappeared; Morris was so seemingly indifferent -to everything except Katy’s happiness. But Wilford did not observe -closely, and failed to detect the hopeless look in Morris’s eyes, or the -whiteness which settled about his mouth as he fulfilled the duties of -host and sought to entertain his guest. Those were dark hours for Morris -Grant, and he was glad when at the end of the second day Wilford’s visit -expired, and he saw him driven from Linwood round to the farm-house, -where he would say his parting words to Katy and then go back to New -York. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - GETTING READY TO BE MARRIED. - - -“MISS HELEN LENNOX, Silverton, Mass.” - -This was the superscription of a letter, postmarked New York, and -brought to Helen within a week after Wilford’s departure. It was his -handwriting, too; and wondering what he could have written to her, Helen -broke the seal, starting as there dropped into her lap a check for five -hundred dollars. - -“What does it mean?” she said, her cheek flushing with anger and -insulted pride as she read the following brief lines: - - “NEW YORK, May 8th. - - “MISS HELEN LENNOX: Please pardon the liberty I have taken in - enclosing the sum of $500 to be used by you in procuring whatever Katy - may need for present necessities. Presuming that the country - seamstresses have not the best facilities for obtaining the latest - fashions, my mother proposes sending out her own private dressmaker, - Mrs. Ryan. You may look for her the last of the week. - - “Yours truly, WILFORD CAMERON.” - -It would be impossible to describe Helen’s indignation as she read this -letter, which roused her to a pitch of anger such as Wilford Cameron had -never imagined when he wrote the offensive lines. He had really no -intention of insulting her. On the contrary, the gift of money was -kindly meant, for he knew that Uncle Ephraim was poor, while the part -referring to the dressmaker was wholly his mother’s proposition, to -which he had acceded, knowing how much confidence Juno had in her taste, -and that whatever she might see at the farm-house would remain a secret -with her, or at most be confined to the ears of his mother and sisters. -He wished Katy to look well, and foolishly fancying that no country -artiste could make her look so, he consented to Mrs. Ryan’s going, never -dreaming of the effect it would have upon Helen, whose first impulse was -to throw the check into the fire. Her second, however, was soberer. She -would not destroy it, nor tell any one she had it, but Morris—_he_ -should know the whole. Accordingly, she repaired to Linwood, finding -Morris at home, and startling him with the vehemence of her anger as she -explained the nature of her errand. - -“If I disliked Wilford Cameron before, I hate him now. Yes, hate him,” -she said, stamping her little foot in fury. - -“Why, Helen!” Morris exclaimed, laying his hand reprovingly on her -shoulder; “is this the right spirit for one who professes better things? -Stop a moment and think.” - -“I know it is wrong,” Helen answered, “but somehow since he came after -Katy, I have grown so hard, so wicked toward Mr. Cameron. He seems so -proud, so unapproachable. Say, Cousin Morris, do you think him a good -man, that is, good enough for Katy?” - -“Most people would call him too good for her,” Morris replied. “And, in -a worldly point of view, she is doing well. Cameron, I believe, is -better than three-fourths of the men who marry our girls. He is very -proud: but that results from his education and training. Looking only -from a New York standpoint he misjudges country people, but he will -appreciate you by and by. Do not begin by hating him so cordially.” - -“Yes, but this money. Now, Morris, we do not want him to get Katy’s -outfit. I would rather go without clothes my whole life. Shall I send it -back?” - -“I think that the best disposition to make of it,” Morris replied. “As -your brother, I can and will supply Katy’s needs.” - -“I knew you would, Morris. And I’ll send it to-day, in time to keep that -dreadful Mrs. Ryan from coming; for I won’t have any of Wilford -Cameron’s dressmakers in the house.” - -Morris could not help smiling at Helen’s energetic manner, as she -hurried to his library and taking his pen wrote to Wilford Cameron as -follows: - - SILVERTON, May 9th, 18—. - - MR. WILFORD CAMERON:—I give you credit for the kindest of motives in - sending the check which I now return to you, with my compliments. We - are not as poor as you suppose, and would almost deem it sacrilege to - let another than ourselves provide for Katy so long as she is ours. - And furthermore, Mrs. Ryan’s services will not be needed, so it is not - worth her while to make a journey here for nothing. - - Yours, - HELEN LENNOX. - -Helen felt better after this letter had gone, wondering often how it -would be received, and if Wilford would be angry. She hoped he would, -and his mother too. “The idea of sending that Ryan woman to us, as if we -did not know anything!” and Helen’s lip curled scornfully as she thus -denounced the Ryan woman, whose trunk was packed with paper patterns and -devices of various kinds when the letter arrived, saying she was not -needed. Being a woman of few words, she quietly unpacked her patterns -and went back to the work she was engaged upon when Mrs. Cameron -proposed her going into the country. Juno, on the contrary, flew into a -violent passion to think their first friendly advances should be thus -received. Bell laughed immoderately, saying she liked Helen Lennox’s -spirit, and wished her brother had chosen her instead of the other, who, -she presumed, was a milk and water thing, even if Mrs. Woodhull did -extol her so highly. Mrs. Cameron felt the rebuke keenly, wincing under -it, and saying “that Helen Lennox must be a very rude, ill-bred girl,” -and hoping her son would draw the line of division between his wife and -her family so tightly that the sister could never pass over it. She had -received the news of her son’s engagement without opposition, for she -knew the time for that was past. Wilford would marry Katy Lennox, and -she must make the best of it, so she offered no remonstrance, but, when -they were alone, she said to him, “Did you tell her? Does she know it -all?” - -“No, mother,” and the old look of pain came back into Wilford’s face. “I -meant to do so, and I actually began, but she stopped me short, saying -she did not wish to hear my faults, she would rather find them out -herself. Away from her it is very easy to think what I will do, but when -the trial comes I find it hard, we have kept it so long; but I shall -tell her yet; not till after we are married though, and I have made her -love me even more than she does now. She will not mind it then. I shall -take her where I first met Genevra, and there I will tell her. Is that -right?” - -“Yes, if you think so,” Mrs. Cameron replied. - -Whatever it was which Wilford had to tell Katy Lennox, it was very -evident that he and his mother looked at it differently, he regarding it -as a duty he owed to Katy not to conceal from her what might possibly -influence her decision, while his mother only wished the secret told in -hopes that it would prevent the marriage; but now that Wilford had -deferred it till after the marriage, she saw no reason why it need be -told at all. At least Wilford could do as he thought best, and she -changed the conversation from Genevra to Helen’s letter, which had so -upset her plans. That her future daughter-in-law was handsome she did -not doubt, but she, of course, had no manner, no style, and as a means -of improving her in the latter respect, and making her presentable at -the altar and in Boston, she had proposed sending out _Ryan_; but that -project had failed, and Helen Lennox did not stand very high in the -Cameron family, though Wilford in his heart felt an increased respect -for her independent spirit, notwithstanding that she had thwarted his -designs. - -“I have another idea,” Mrs. Cameron said to her daughters that -afternoon, when talking with them upon the subject. “Wilford tells me -Katy and Bell are about the same size and figure, and Ryan shall make up -a traveling suit proper for the occasion. Of course there will be no one -at the wedding for whom we care, but in Boston, at the Revere, it will -be different. Cousin Harvey boards there, and she is very stylish. I saw -some elegant grey poplins, of the finest lustre, at Stewart’s yesterday. -Suppose we drive down this afternoon.” - -This was said to Juno as the more fashionable one of the sisters, but -Bell answered quickly, “Poplin, mother, on Katy? It will not become her -style, I am sure, though suitable for many. If I am to be fitted, I -shall say a word about the fabric. Get a little checked silk, as -expensive as you like. It will suit her better than a heavy poplin.” - -Perhaps Bell was right, Mrs. Cameron said; they would look at both, and -as the result of this looking, two dresses, one of the finest poplin, -and one of the softest, richest, plaided silk, were given the next day -into Mrs. Ryan’s hands, with injunctions to spare no pains or expense in -trimming and making both. And so the dress-making for Katy’s bridal was -proceeding in New York, in spite of Helen’s letter; while down in -Silverton, at the farm-house, there were numerous consultations as to -what was proper and what was not, Helen sometimes almost wishing she had -suffered Mrs. Ryan to come. Katy would look well in anything, but Helen -knew there were certain styles preferable to others, and in a maze of -perplexity she consulted with this and that individual, until all -Silverton knew what was projected, each one offering the benefit of her -advice until Helen and Katy were nearly distracted. Aunt Betsy suggested -a blue delaine and round cape, offering to get it herself, and actually -purchasing the material with her own funds, saved from drying apples. -That would answer for one dress, Helen said, but not for the wedding; -and she was becoming more undecided, when Morris came to the rescue, -telling Katy of a young woman who had for some time past been his -patient, but who was now nearly well and was anxious to obtain work -again. She had evidently seen better days, he said; was very lady-like -in her manner, and possessed of a great deal of taste, he imagined; -besides that, she had worked in one of the largest shops in New York. -“As I am going this afternoon over to North Silverton,” he added, in -conclusion, “and shall pass Miss Hazelton’s house, you or Helen might -accompany me and see for yourself.” - -It was decided that Helen should go, and about four o’clock she found -herself ringing at the cottage over whose door hung the sign, “Miss M. -Hazelton, Fashionable Dressmaker.” She was at home, and in a few moments -Helen was talking with Marian Hazelton, whose face showed signs of -recent illness, but was nevertheless very attractive, from its -peculiarly sad expression and the soft liquid eyes of dark blue, which -looked as if they were not strangers to tears. At twenty she must have -been strikingly beautiful; and even now, at thirty, few ladies could -have vied with her had she possessed the means for gratifying her taste -and studying her style. About the mouth, so perfect in repose, there was -when she spoke a singularly sweet smile, which in a measure prepared one -for the low, silvery voice, which had a strange note of mournful music -in its tone, making Helen start as it asked, “Did you wish to see me?” - -“Yes; Dr. Grant told me you could make dresses, and I drove round with -him to secure your services, if possible, for my sister, who is soon to -be married. We would like it so much if you could go to our house -instead of having Katy come here.” - -Marian Hazelton was needing work, for there was due more than three -months’ board, besides the doctor’s bill, and so, though it was not her -custom to go from house to house, she would, in this instance, -accommodate Miss Lennox, especially as during her illness her customers -had many of them gone elsewhere, and her little shop was nearly broken -up. “Was it an elaborate trousseau she was expected to make?” and she -bent down to turn over some fashion plates lying upon the table. - -“Oh, no! we are plain country people. We cannot afford as much for Katy -as we would like; besides, I dare say Mr. Cameron will prefer selecting -most of her wardrobe himself, as he is very wealthy and fastidious,” -Helen replied, repenting the next instant the part concerning Mr. -Cameron’s wealth, as that might look like boasting to Miss Hazelton, -whose head was bent lower over the magazine as she said, “Did I -understand that the gentleman’s name was Cameron?” - -“Yes, Wilford Cameron, from New York,” Helen answered, holding up her -skirts and s-s-kt-ing at the kitten which came running toward her, -evidently intent upon springing into her lap. - -Fear of cats was Helen’s weakness, if weakness it can be called, and in -her efforts to frighten her tormentor she did not look again at Miss -Hazelton until startled by a gasping cry and heavy fall. Marian had -fainted, and Helen was just raising her head from the floor to her lap -when Morris appeared, relieving her of her burden, of whom he took -charge until she showed signs of life. In her alarm Helen forgot -entirely what they were talking about when the faint came on, and her -first question put to Marian was, “Were you taken suddenly ill? Why did -you faint?” - -There was no answer at first; but when she did speak Marian said, “I am -still so weak that the least exertion affects me, and I was bending over -the table; it will soon pass off.” - -If she was so weak she was not able to work, Helen said, proposing that -the plan be for the present abandoned, but to this Marian would not -listen; and her great eager eyes had in them so scared a look that Helen -said no more on that subject, but made arrangements for her coming to -them at once. Morris was to leave his patient some medicine, and while -he was preparing it, Helen had time to notice her more carefully, -admiring her lady-like manners, and thinking her smile the sweetest she -had ever seen. Greatly interested in her, Helen plied Morris with -questions of Miss Hazelton during their ride home, asking what he knew -of her. - -“Nothing, except that she came to North Silverton a year ago, opening -her shop, and by her faithfulness, and pleasant, obliging manners, -winning favor with all who employed her. Previous to her sickness she -had a few times attended St. Paul’s at South Silverton, that being the -church of her choice. Had Helen never observed her?” - -No, Helen had not. And then she spoke of her fainting, telling how -sudden it was, and wondering if she was subject to such turns. Marian -Hazelton had made a strong impression on Helen’s mind, and she talked of -her so much that Katy waited her appearance at the farm-house with -feverish anxiety. It was evening when she came, looking very white, and -seeming to Helen as if she had changed since she saw her first. In her -eyes there was a kind of hopeless, weary expression, while her smile -made one almost wish to cry, it was so sad, and yet so strangely sweet. -Katy felt its influence at once, growing very confidential with the -stranger, who, during the half hour in which they were accidentally left -alone, drew from her every particular concerning her intended marriage. -Very closely the dark blue eyes scrutinized little Katy, taking in first -the faultless beauty of her face, and then going away down into the -inmost depths of her character, as if to find out what was there. - -“Pure, loving innocent, and unsuspecting,” was Marian Hazelton’s -verdict, and she followed wistfully every movement of the young girl as -she flitted around the room, chatting as familiarly with the dressmaker -as if she were a friend long known instead of an entire stranger. - -“You look very young to be married,” Miss Hazelton said to her once, and -shaking back her short rings of hair Katy answered, “Eighteen next -Fourth of July; but Mr. Cameron is thirty.” - -“Is he a widower?” was the next question, which Katy answered with a -merry laugh. “Mercy, no! _I_ marry a widower! How funny! I don’t believe -he ever cared a fig for anybody but me. I mean to ask him.” - -“I would,” and the pale lips shut tightly together, while a resentful -gleam shot for a moment across Marian’s face; but it quickly passed -away, and her smile was as sweet as ever as she at last bade the family -good night and repaired to the little room where Wilford Cameron once -had slept. - -A long time she stood before the glass, brushing her dark abundant hair, -and intently regarding her own features, while in her eyes there was a -hard, terrible look, from which Katy Lennox would have shrunk in fear. -But that too passed, and the eyes grew soft with tears as she turned -away, and falling on her knees moaned sadly, “I never will—no, I never -will. God help me to keep the promise. Were it the other one—Helen—I -might, for she could bear it; but Katy, that child—no, I never will,” -and as the words died on her lips there came struggling up from her -heart a prayer for Katy Lennox’s happiness, as fervent and sincere as -any which had ever been made for her since she was betrothed. - -They grew to liking each other rapidly, Marian and Katy, the latter of -whom thought her new friend greatly out of place as a dressmaker, -telling her she ought to marry some rich man, calling her Marian -altogether, and questioning her very closely of her previous life. But -Marian only told her that she was born in London; that she learned her -trade on the Isle of Wight, near to the Osborne House, where the royal -family sometimes came, and that she had often seen the present Queen, -thus trying to divert Katy’s mind from asking what there was besides -that apprenticeship to the Misses True on the Isle of Wight. Once indeed -she went farther, saying that her friends were dead; that she had come -to America in hopes of doing better than she could at home; that she had -stayed in New York until her health began to fail, and then had tried -what country air would do, coming to North Silverton because a young -woman who worked in the same shop was acquainted there, and recommended -the place. This was all Katy could learn, and Marian’s heart history, if -she had one, was guarded carefully. - -They had decided at last upon the wedding dress, which Helen reserved -the right to make herself. Miss Hazelton must fit it, of course, but to -her belonged the privilege of making it, every stitch; Katy would think -more of it if she did it all, she said; but she did not confess how the -bending over the dress, both early and late, was the escape-valve for -the feeling which otherwise would have found vent in passionate tears. -Helen was very wretched during the pleasant May days she usually enjoyed -so much, but over which now a dark pall was spread, shutting out all the -brightness and leaving only the terrible certainty that Katy was lost to -her forever—bright, frolicsome Katy, who, without a shadow on her heart, -sported amid the bridal finery, unmindful of the anguish tugging at the -hearts of both the patient women, Marian and Helen, who worked on so -silently, reserving their tears for the night-time, when Katy was -dreaming of Wilford Cameron. Helen was greatly interested in Marian, but -never guessed that her feelings, too, were stirred to their very depths -as the bridal preparations progressed. She only knew how wretched she -was herself, and how hard it was to fight her tears back as she bent -over the silk, weaving in with every stitch a part of the clinging love -which each day grew stronger for the only sister, who would soon be -gone, leaving her alone. Only once did she break entirely down, and that -was when the dress was done and Katy tried it on, admiring its effect -and having a second glass brought that she might see it behind. - -“Isn’t it lovely?” she exclaimed; “and the more valuable because you -made it. I shall think of you every time I wear it,” and the impulsive -girl wound her arms around Helen’s neck, kissing her lovingly, while -Helen sank into a chair and sobbed aloud, “Oh, Katy, darling Katy! you -won’t forget me when you are rich and admired, and can have all you -want? You will remember us here at home, so sad and lonely? You don’t -know how desolate it will be, knowing you are gone, never to come back -again, just as you go away.” - -In an instant Katy was on her knees before Helen, whom she tried to -comfort by telling her she should come back,—come often, too, staying a -long while; and that when she had a city home of her own she should live -with her for good, and they would be so happy. - -“I cannot quite give Wilford up to please you,” she said, when that -gigantic sacrifice suggested itself as something which it was possible -Helen might require of her; “but I will do anything else, only please -don’t cry, darling Nellie—please don’t cry. It spoils all my pleasure,” -and Katy’s soft hands wiped away the tears running so fast over her -sister’s face. - -After that Helen did not cry again in Katy’s presence, but the latter -knew she wanted to, and it made her rather sad, particularly when she -saw reflected in the faces of the other members of the family the grief -she had witnessed in Helen. Even Uncle Ephraim was not as cheerful as -usual, and once when Katy came upon him in the wood-shed chamber, where -he was shelling corn, she found him resting from his work and looking -from the window far off across the hills, with a look which made her -guess he was thinking of her, and stealing up beside him she laid her -hand upon his wrinkled face, whispering softly, “Poor Uncle Eph, are you -sorry, too?” - -He knew what she meant, and the aged chin quivered, while a big tear -dropped into the tub of corn as he replied. “Yes, Katy-did—very sorry.” - -That was all he said, and Katy, after smoothing his silvery hair a -moment, kissed his cheek and then stole away, wondering if the love to -which she was going was equal to the love of home, which, as the days -went by, grew stronger and stronger, enfolding her in a mighty embrace, -which could only be severed by bitter tears and fierce heart-pangs, such -as death itself sometimes brings. In that household there was, after -Katy, no one glad of that marriage except the mother, and she was only -glad because of the position it would bring to her daughter. But among -them all Morris suffered most, and suffered more because he had to -endure in secret, so that no one guessed the pain it was for him to go -each day where Katy was, and watch her as she sometimes donned a part of -her finery for his benefit, asking him once if he did not wish he were -in Wilford’s place, so as to have as pretty a bride as she should make. -Then Marian Hazelton glanced up in time to see the expression of his -face, a look whose meaning she readily recognized, and when Dr. Grant -left the farm-house that day, another than himself knew of his love for -Katy, drawing her breath hurriedly as she thought of taking back the -words, “I never will,”—of revoking that decision and telling Katy what -Wilford Cameron should have told her long before. But the wild wish -fled, and Wilford’s secret was safe, while Marian watched Morris Grant -with a pitying interest as he came among them, speaking always in the -same kind, gentle tone, and trying so hard to enter into Katy’s joy. - -“His burden is greater than mine. God help us both,” Marian said, as she -resumed her work. - -And so amid joy and gladness, silent tears and breaking hearts, the -preparations went on until all was done, and only three days remained -before the eventful tenth. Marian Hazelton was going home, for she would -not stay at the farm-house until all was over, notwithstanding Katy’s -entreaties were joined to those of Helen. - -“Perhaps she would come to the church,” she said, “though she could not -promise;” and her manner was so strange that Katy wondered if she could -have offended her, and at last said to her timidly, as she stood with -her bonnet on, waiting for Uncle Ephraim, “You are not angry with me for -anything, are you?” - -“Angry with _you_!” and Katy never forgot the glitter of the tearful -eyes, or their peculiar expression as they turned upon her. “No, oh, no; -I could not be angry with you, and yet, Katy Lennox, some in my position -would _hate_ you, contrasting your prospects with their own; but I do -not; I love you; I bless you, and pray that you may be happy with your -husband; honor him, obey him if need be, and above all, never give him -the slightest cause to doubt you. You will have admirers, Katy Lennox. -In New York others than your husband will speak to you words of -flattery, but don’t you listen. Remember what I tell you; and now, -again, God bless you.” - -She touched her lips to Katy’s forehead, and when they were withdrawn -there were great tears there which she had left! Marian’s tears on -Katy’s brow; and it was very meet that just before her bridal day -Wilford Cameron’s bride should receive such baptism from Marian -Hazelton. - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - BEFORE THE MARRIAGE. - - -Oh the morning of the 9th day of June, 18—, Wilford Cameron stood in his -father’s parlor, surrounded by the entire family, who, after their -unusually early breakfast, had assembled to bid him good-bye, for -Wilford was going for his bride, and it would be months, if not a year, -ere he returned to them again. They had given him up to his idol, asking -only that none of the idol’s family should be permitted to cross their -threshold, and also that the idol should not often be allowed the -privilege of returning to the place from whence she came. These -restrictions had emanated from the female portion of the Cameron family, -the mother, Juno and Bell. The father, on the contrary, had sworn -roundly as he would sometimes swear at what he called the contemptible -pride of his wife and daughters. Katy was sure of a place in his heart -just because of the pride which was building up so high a wall between -her and her friends, and when at parting he held his son’s hand in his, -he said, - -“I charge you, Will, be kind to that young girl, and don’t for Heaven’s -sake go to cramming her with airs and nonsense which she does not -understand. Tell her I’ll be a father to her; her own, you say, is dead, -and give her this as my bridal present.” - -He held out a small box containing a most exquisite set of pearls, such -as he fancied would be becoming to the soft, girlish beauty Wilford had -described. Something in his father’s manner touched Wilford closely, -making him resolve anew that if Kitty were not happy as Mrs. Cameron it -should not be his fault. His mother had said all she wished to say, -while his sisters had been gracious enough to send their love to the -bride, Bell hoping she would look as well in the poplin and little plaid -as she had done. Either was suitable for the wedding day, Mrs. Cameron -said, and she might take her choice, only Wilford must see that she did -not wear with the poplin the gloves and belt intended for the silk; -country people had so little taste, and she did want Katy to look well, -even if she were not there to see her. And with his brain a confused -medley of poplins and plaids, belts and gloves, pearls and Katy, Wilford -finally tore himself away, and at three o’clock that afternoon drove -through Silverton village, past the little church, which the Silverton -maidens were decorating with flowers, pausing a moment in their work to -look at him as he went by. Among them was Marian Hazelton, but she only -bent lower over her work, thus hiding the tear which dropped upon the -delicate buds she was fashioning into the words, “Joy to the Bride,” -intending the whole as the center of the wreath to be placed over the -altar where all could see it. - -“The handsomest man I ever saw,” was the verdict of most of the girls as -they came back to their work, while Wilford drove on to the farm-house -where Katy had been so anxiously watching for him. - -When he came in sight, however, and she knew he was actually there, she -ran away to hide her blushes, and the feeling of awe which had come -suddenly over her for the man who was to be her husband. But Helen bade -her go back, and so she went coyly in to Wilford, who met her with -loving caresses, and then put upon her finger the superb diamond which -he said he had thought to send as a pledge of their engagement, but had -finally concluded to wait and present himself. Katy had heard much of -diamonds, and seen some in Canandaigua; but the idea that she, plain -Katy Lennox, would ever wear them, had never entered her mind; and now, -as she looked at the brilliant gem sparkling upon her hand, she felt a -thrill of something more than joy at that good fortune which had brought -her to diamonds. Vanity, we suppose it was—such vanity as was very -natural in her case, and she thought she should never tire of looking at -the precious stone; but when Wilford showed her next the plain broad -band of gold, and tried it on her third finger, asking if she knew what -it meant, the true woman spoke within her, and she answered tearfully, - -“Yes, I know, and I will try to prove worthy of what I shall be to you -when I wear that ring for good.” - -Katy was very quiet for a moment as she sat with her head nestled -against Wilford’s bosom, but when he observed that she was looking -tired, and asked if she had been working hard, the quiet fit was broken, -and she told him of the dress “we had made,” the _we_ referring solely -to Helen and Marian, for Katy had hardly done a thing. But it did not -matter; she fancied she had, and she asked if he did not wish to see her -dresses. Wilford knew it would please Katy, and so he followed her into -the adjoining room, where they were spread out upon tables and chairs, -with Helen in their midst, ready to pack them away. Wilford thought of -Mrs. Ryan and the check, but he shook hands with Helen very civilly, -saying to her playfully, - -“I suppose you are willing I should take your sister with me this time.” - -Helen could not answer, but turned away to hide her face, while Katy -showed one dress after another, until she came to the silk, which, with -a bright blush, she told him “was the very thing itself—the one intended -for to-morrow,” and asked if he did not like it. - -Wilford could not help telling her yes, for he knew she wished him to do -so, but in his heart he was thinking bad thoughts against the wardrobe -of his bride elect—thoughts which would have won for him the title of -_hen-huzzy_ from Helen, could she have known them. And yet Wilford did -not deserve that name. He had been accustomed all his life to hearing -dress discussed in his mother’s parlor, and in his sister’s boudoir, -while for the last five weeks he had heard at home of little else than -the probable _tout ensemble_ of Katy’s wardrobe, bought and made in the -country, his mother deciding finally to write to her cousin, Mrs. -Harvey, who boarded at the Revere, and have her see to it before Katy -left the city. Under these circumstances, it was not strange that -Wilford did not enter into Katy’s delight, even after she told him how -Helen had made every stitch of the dress herself, and that it would on -that account be very dear to her. This was a favorable time for getting -the poplin off his mind, and with a premonitory _ahem_ he said, “Yes, it -is very nice, no doubt; but,” and here he turned to Helen, “after Mrs. -Ryan’s services were declined, my mother determined to have two dresses -fitted to sister Bell, who I think is just Katy’s size and figure. I -need not say,” and his eyes still rested on Helen, who gave him back an -unflinching glance, “I need not say that no pains have been spared to -make these garments everything they should be in point of quality and -style. I have them in my trunk, and,” turning now to Katy, “it is my -mother’s special request that one of them be worn to-morrow. You could -take your choice, she said—either was suitable. I will bring them for -your inspection.” - -He left the room, while Helen’s face resembled a dark thunder-cloud, -whose lightnings shone in her flashing eyes as she looked after him and -then back to where Katy stood, bewildered and wondering what was wrong. - -“Who is Mrs. Ryan?” she asked. “What does he mean?” but before Helen -could command her voice to explain, Wilford was with them again, -bringing the dresses, over which Katy nearly went wild. - -She had never seen anything as elegant as the rich heavy poplin or the -soft lustrous silk, while even Helen acknowledged that there was about -them a finish which threw Miss Hazelton’s quite in the shade. - -“Beautiful!” Katy exclaimed; “and trimmed so exquisitely! I do so hope -they will fit!” - -“I dare say they will,” Wilford replied, enjoying her appreciation of -his mother’s gift. “At all events they will answer for to-morrow, and -any needful alterations can be made in Boston. Which will you wear?” - -“Oh, I don’t know. I wish I could wear both. Helen, which shall I?” and -Katy appealed to her sister, who could endure no more, but hid her head -among the pillows of the bed and cried. - -Katy understood the whole, and dropping the silk to which she inclined -the most, she flew to Helen’s side and whispered to her, “Don’t, Nellie, -I won’t wear either of them. I’ll wear the one you made. It was mean and -vain in me to think of doing otherwise.” - -During this scene Wilford had stolen from the room, and with him gone -Helen was capable of judging candidly and sensibly. She knew the city -silk was handsomer and better suited for Wilford Cameron’s bride than -the country plaid, and so she said to Katy, “I would rather you should -wear the one they sent. It will become you better. Suppose you try it -on,” and in seeking to gratify her sister, Helen forgot in part her own -cruel disappointment, and that her work of days had been for naught. The -dress fitted well, though Katy pronounced it too tight and too long. A -few moments, however, accustomed her to the length, and then her mother, -Aunt Hannah, and Aunt Betsy, came to see and admire, while Katy proposed -going out to Wilford, but Helen kept her back, Aunt Betsy remarking -under her breath, that “she didn’t see for the life on her how Catherine -could be so free and easy with that man when just the sight of him was -enough to take away a body’s breath.” - -“More free and easy than she will be by and by,” was Helen’s mental -comment as she proceeded quietly to pack the trunk which Morris had -brought for the voyage across the sea, dropping into it many a tear as -she folded away one article after another, and wondered under what -circumstances she should see them again if she saw them ever. - -Helen was a Christian girl, and many a time had she prayed in secret -that He who rules the deep would keep its waters calm and still while -her sister was upon them, and she prayed so now, constantly, burying her -face once in her hands, and asking that Katy might come back to them -unchanged, if possible, and asking next that God would remove from her -heart all bitterness towards the bridegroom, who was to be her brother, -and whom, after that short, earnest prayer, she found herself liking -better. He loved Katy, she was sure, and that was all she cared for, -though she did wish he would release her before twelve o’clock on that -night, the last she would spend with them for a long, long time. But -Wilford kept her with him in the parlor, kissing away the tears which -flowed so fast when she recalled the prayer said by Uncle Ephraim, with -her kneeling by him as she might never kneel again. He had called her by -her name, and his voice was very sad as he commended her to God, asking -that he would “be with our little Katy wherever she might go, keeping -her in all the _mewandering_ scenes of life, and bringing her at last to -his own heavenly home.” - -Wilford himself was touched, and though he noticed the deacon’s -pronunciation, he did not even smile, and his manner was very -respectful, when, after the prayer was over and they were alone a -moment, the white-haired deacon felt it incumbent upon him to say a few -words concerning Katy. - -“She’s a young, rattle-headed creature, not much like your own kin, I -guess; but, young man, she is as dear as the apple of our eyes, and I -charge you to treat her well. She has never had a crossways word spoke -to her all her life, and don’t you be the first to speak it, nor let -your folks browbeat her.” - -As they were alone, it was easier for Wilford to be humble and -conciliatory, and he promised all the old man required, and then went -back to Katy, who was going into raptures over the beautiful little -watch which Morris had sent over as her bridal gift from him. Even Mrs. -Cameron herself could have found no fault with this, and Wilford praised -it as much as Katy could desire, noticing the inscription, “Katy, from -Cousin Morris, June 10th, 18—” wishing that after the “Katy” had come -the name Cameron, and wondering if Morris had any design in omitting it. -Wilford had not yet presented his father’s gift, but he did so now, and -Katy’s tears dropped upon the pale, soft pearls as she whispered, “I -shall like your father. I never thought of having things like these.” - -Nor had she; but she would grow to them very soon, while even the family -gathering round and sharing in her joy began to realize how great a lady -their Katy was to be. It was late that night ere anybody slept, if sleep -at all they did, which was doubtful, unless it were the bride, who, with -Wilford’s kisses warm upon her lips, crept up to bed just as the clock -was striking twelve, nor awoke until it was again chiming six, and over -her Helen bent, a dark ring about her eyes and her face very white as -she whispered, “Wake, Katy darling, this is your wedding day.” - - - - - CHAPTER X. - MARRIAGE AT ST. JOHN’S. - - -There were more than a few lookers-on to see Katy Lennox married, and -the church was literally jammed for full three-quarters of an hour -before the appointed time. Back by the door, where she commanded a full -view of the middle aisle, Marian Hazelton sat, her face as white as -ashes, and her eyes gleaming strangely wild from beneath the thickly -dotted veil she wore over her hat. Doubts as to her wisdom in coming -there were agitating her mind, but something kept her sitting just as -others sat waiting for the bride until the sexton, opening wide the -doors, and assuming an added air of consequence, told the anxious -spectators that the party had arrived—Uncle Ephraim and Katy, Wilford -and Mrs. Lennox, Dr. Morris and Helen, Aunt Hannah and Aunt Betsy—that -was all, and they came slowly up the aisle, while countless eyes were -turned upon them, every woman noticing Katy’s dress sweeping the carpet -with so long a trail, and knowing by some queer female instinct that it -was city-made, and not the handiwork of Marian Hazelton, panting for -breath in that pew near the door, and trying to forget herself by -watching Dr. Grant. She could not have told what Katy wore; she would -not have sworn that Katy was there, for she saw only two, Wilford and -Morris Grant. She could have touched the former as he passed her by, and -she did breathe the odor of his garments while her hands clasped each -other tightly, and then she turned to Morris Grant, growing content with -her own pain, so much less than his as he stood before the altar with -Wilford Cameron between him and the bride which should have been his. -How pretty she was in her wedding garb, and how like a bird her voice -rang out as she responded to the solemn question, - -“Will you have this man to be thy wedded husband,” etc. - -Upon Uncle Ephraim devolved the duty of giving her away, a thing which -Aunt Betsy denounced as a “’Piscopal quirk,” classing it in the same -category with dancing. Still if Ephraim had got it to do she wanted him -to do it well, and she had taken some pains to study that part of the -ceremony, so as to know when to, nudge her brother in case he failed of -coming up to time. - -“Now, Ephraim, now; they’ve reached the quirk,” she whispered, audibly, -almost before Katy’s “I will” was heard, clear and distinct; but Ephraim -did not need her prompting, and his hand rested lovingly upon Katy’s -shoulder as he signified his consent, and then fell back to his place -next to Hannah. But when Wilford’s voice said, “I, Wilford, take thee -Katy to be my wedded wife,” there was a slight confusion near the door, -and those sitting by said to those in front that some one had fainted. -Looking round, the audience saw the sexton leading Marian Hazelton out -into the open air, where, at her request, he left her, and went back to -see the closing of the ceremony which made Katy Lennox a wife. Morris’s -carriage was at the door, and the newly married pair moved slowly out, -Katy smiling upon all, kissing her hand to some and whispering a -good-bye to others, her diamonds flashing in the light and her rich silk -rustling as she walked, while at her side was Wilford, proudly erect, -and holding his head so high as not to see one of the crowd around him, -until, arrived at the vestibule, he stopped a moment and was seized by a -young man with curling hair, saucy eyes, and that air of ease and -assurance which betokens high breeding and wealth. - -“Mark Ray!” was Wilford’s astonished exclamation, while Mark Ray -replied, - -“You did net expect to see me here, neither did I expect to come until -last night, when I found myself in the little village where you know -Scranton lives. Then it occurred to me that as Silverton was only a few -miles distant I would drive over and surprise you, but I am too late for -the ceremony, I see,” and Mark’s eyes rested admiringly upon Katy, whose -graceful beauty was fully equal to what he had imagined. - -Very modestly she received his congratulatory greeting, blushing -prettily when he called her by the new name she had not heard before, -and then, at a motion from Wilford, entered the carriage waiting for -her. Close behind her came Morris and Helen, the former quite as much -astonished at meeting Mark as Wilford had been. There was no time for -conversation, and hurriedly introducing Helen as Miss Lennox, Morris -followed her into the carriage with the bridal pair, and was driven to -the depot, where they were joined by Mark, whose pleasant good-humored -sallies did much towards making the parting more cheerful than it would -otherwise have been. It was sad enough at the most, and Katy’s eyes were -very red, while Wilford was beginning to look chagrined and impatient, -when at last the train swept round the corner and the very last good-bye -was said. Many of the village people were there to see Katy off, and in -the crowd Mark had no means of distinguishing the Barlows from the -others, except it were by the fond caresses given to the bride. Aunt -Betsy he had observed from all the rest, both from the hanging of her -pongee and the general quaintness of her attire, and thinking it just -possible that it might be the lady of herrin’ bone memory, he touched -Wilford’s arm as she passed them by, and said, - -“Tell me, Will, quick, who is that woman in the poke bonnet and short, -slim dress?” - -Wilford was just then too much occupied in his efforts to rescue Katy -from the crowd of plebeians who had seized upon her to hear his friends -query, but Helen heard it, and with a cheek which crimsoned with anger, -she replied, - -“That, sir, is my aunt, Miss Betsy Barlow.” - -“I beg your pardon, I really do. I was not aware——” - -Mark began, lifting his hat involuntarily, and mentally cursing himself -for his stupidity in not observing who was near to him before asking -personal questions. - -With a toss of her head Helen turned away, forgetting her resentment in -the more absorbing thought that Katy was leaving her. - -The bell had rung, the heavy machinery groaned and creaked, and the long -train was under way, while from an open window a little white hand was -thrust, waving its handkerchief until the husband quietly drew it in, -experiencing a feeling of relief that all was over, and that unless he -chose his wife need never go back again to that vulgar crowd standing -upon the platform and looking with tearful eyes and aching hearts after -the fast receding train. - -For a moment Mark talked with Morris Grant, explaining how he came -there, and adding that on the morrow he too intended going on to Boston, -to remain for a few days before Wilford sailed; then, feeling that he -must in some way atone for his awkward speech regarding Aunt Betsy, he -sought out Helen, still standing like a statue and watching the feathery -line of smoke rising above the distant trees. Her bonnet had partially -fallen from her head, revealing her bands of rich brown hair and the -smooth broad forehead, while her hands were locked together, and a tear -trembled on her dark eyelashes. Taken as a whole she made a striking -picture standing apart from the rest and totally oblivious to them all, -and Mark gazed at her a moment curiously; then, as her attitude changed -and she drew her hat back to its place, he advanced toward her, making -some pleasant remark about the morning and the appearance of the country -generally. He knew he could not openly apologize, but he made what -amends he could by talking to her so familiarly that Helen almost forgot -how she hated him and all others who like him lived in New York and -resembled Wilford Cameron. It was Mark who led her to the carriage which -Morris said was waiting. Mark who handed her in, smoothing down the -folds of her dress, and then stood leaning against the door, chatting -with Morris, who thought once of asking him to enter and go back to -Linwood. But when he remembered how unequal he was to entertaining any -one that day, he said merely, - -“On your way from Boston, call and see me. I shall be glad of your -company then.” - -“Which means that you do not wish it now,” Mark laughingly rejoined, as, -offering his hand to both Morris and Helen, he touched his hat and -walked away. - - - - - CHAPTER XI. - AFTER THE MARRIAGE. - - -“Why did you invite him to Linwood?” Helen began. “I am sure we have had -city guests enough. Oh, if Wilford Cameron had only never come, we -should have had Katy now,” and the sister-love overcame every other -feeling, making Helen cry bitterly as they drove back to the farm-house. - -Morris could not comfort her then, and so in silence he left her and -went on his way to Linwood. It was well for him that there were many -sick ones on his list, for in attending to them he forgot himself in -part, so that the day with him passed faster than at the farm-house, -where life and its interests seemed suddenly to have stopped. Nothing -had power to rouse Helen, who never realized how much she loved her -young sister until now, when she listlessly put to rights the room which -had been theirs so long, but which was now hers alone. It was a sad task -picking up that disordered chamber, bearing so many traces of Katy, and -Helen’s heart ached terribly as she hung away the little pink calico -dressing-gown in which Katy had looked so prettily, and picked up from -the floor the pile of skirts lying just where they had been left the -previous night; but when it came to the little half-worn slippers which -had been thrown one here and another there as Katy danced out of them, -she could control herself no longer, and stopping in her work sobbed -bitterly, “Oh, Katy, Katy, how can I live without you!” But tears could -not bring Katy back, and knowing this, Helen dried her eyes ere long and -joined the family below, who like herself were spiritless and sad. - -It was some little solace to them all that day to follow Katy in her -journey, saying, she is at Worcester, or Framingham, or Newton, and when -at noon they sat down to their dinner in the tidy kitchen they said, -“She is in Boston,” and the saying so made the time which had elapsed -since the morning seem interminable. Slowly the hours dragged, and at -last, before the sun-setting, Helen, who could bear the loneliness of -home no longer, stole across the fields to Linwood, hoping in Morris’s -companionship to forget her own grief in part. But Morris was a sorry -comforter then. He had ministered as usual to his patients that day, -listening to their complaints and answering patiently their inquiries; -but amid it all he walked as in a maze, hearing nothing except the -words, “I, Katy, take thee, Wilford, to be my wedded husband,” and -seeing nothing but the airy little figure which stood up on tiptoe for -him to kiss its lips at parting. His work for the day was over now, and -he sat alone in his library when Helen came hurriedly in, starting at -sight of his face, and asking if he was ill. - -“I have had a hard day’s work,” he said. “I am always tired at night,” -and he tried to smile and appear natural. “Are you very lonely at the -farm-house?” he asked, and then Helen broke out afresh, mourning -sometimes for Katy, and again denouncing Wilford as proud and heartless. - -“Positively, Cousin Morris, he acted all the while he was in the church -as if he were doing something of which he was ashamed; and then did you -notice how impatient he seemed when the neighbors were shaking hands -with Katy at the depot, and bidding her good-bye? He looked as if he -thought they had no right to touch her, she was so much their superior, -just because she had married _him_, and he even hurried her away before -Aunt Betsy had time to kiss her. And yet the people think it such a -splendid match for Katy, because he is so rich and generous. Gave the -clergyman fifty dollars and the sexton five, so I heard; but that does -not help him with me. I know it’s wicked, Morris, but I find myself -taking real comfort in hating Wilford Cameron.” - -“That is wrong, Helen, all wrong,” and Morris tried to reason with her; -but his arguments this time were not very strong, and he finally said to -her, inadvertently, “If _I_ can forgive Wilford Cameron for marrying our -Katy, you surely ought to do so, for he has hurt _me_ the most.” - -“_You_, Morris! YOU, YOU!” Helen kept repeating, standing back still -further and further from him, while strange, overwhelming thoughts -passed like lightning through her mind as she marked the pallid face, -where was written since the morning more than one line of suffering, and -saw in the brown eyes a look such as they were not wont to wear. -“Morris, tell me—tell me truly—did you love my sister Katy?” and with an -impetuous rush Helen knelt beside him, as, laying his head upon the -table he answered, - -“Yes, Helen. God forgive me if it were wrong. I _did_ love your sister -Katy, and love her yet, and that is the hardest to bear.” - -All the tender pitying woman was roused in Helen, and like a sister she -smoothed the locks of damp, dark hair, keeping a perfect silence as the -strong man, no longer able to bear up, wept like a very child. For a -time Helen felt as if bereft of reason, while earth and sky seemed -blended in one wild chaos as she thought, “Oh, why couldn’t it have -been? Why didn’t you tell her in time?” and at last she said to him, “If -Katy had known it! Oh, Morris, why didn’t you tell her? She never -guessed it, never! If she had—if she had,” Helen’s breath came -chokingly, “I am very sure—yes, I know _it might have been_!” - - “Of all sad words of tongue or pen, - The saddest are these—it might have been.” - -Morris involuntarily thought of these lines, but they only mocked his -sorrow as he answered Helen, “I doubt if you are right; I hope you are -not. Katy loved me as her brother, nothing more, I am confident. Had she -waited till she was older, God only knows what might have been, but now -she is gone and our Father will help me to bear, will help us both, if -we ask him, as we must.” - -And then, as only he could do, Morris talked with Helen until she felt -her hardness towards Wilford giving way, while she wondered how Morris -could speak so kindly of one who was his rival. - -“Not of myself could I do it,” Morris said; “but I trust in One who says -‘As thy day shall thy strength be,’ and He, you know, never fails.” - -There was a fresh bond of sympathy now between Morris and Helen, and the -latter needed no caution against repeating what she had discovered. The -secret was safe with her, and by dwelling on what “might have been” she -forgot to think so much of what _was_, and so the first days after -Katy’s departure were more tolerable than she had thought it possible -for them to be. At the close of the fourth there came a short note from -Katy, who was still in Boston at the Revere, and perfectly happy, she -said, going into ecstasies over her husband, the best in the world, and -certainly the most generous and indulgent. “Such beautiful things as I -am having made,” she wrote, “when I already had more than I needed, and -so I told him, but he only smiled a queer kind of smile as he said ‘Very -true; you do not need them.’ I wonder then why he gets me more. Oh, I -forgot to tell you how much I like his cousin, Mrs. Harvey, who boards -at the Revere, and whom Wilford consults about my dress. I am somewhat -afraid of her, too, she is so grand, but she pets me a great deal and -laughs at my speeches. Mr. Ray is here, and I think him splendid. - -“By the way, Helen, I heard him tell Wilford that you had one of the -best shaped heads he ever saw, and that he thought you decidedly good -looking. I must tell you now of the only thing which troubles me in the -least, and I shall get used to that, I suppose. It is so strange Wilford -never told me a word until she came. Think of little Katy Lennox with a -waiting-maid, who jabbers French half the time, for she speaks that -language as well as her own, having been abroad with the family once -before. That is why they sent her to me; they knew her services would be -invaluable in Paris. Her name is Esther, and she came the day after we -did, and brought me such a beautiful mantilla from Wilford’s mother, and -the loveliest dress. Just the pattern was fifty dollars, she said. - -“The steamer sails in three days, and I will write again before that -time, sending it by Mr. Ray, who is to stop over one train at Linwood. -Wilford has just come in, and says I have written enough for now, but I -must tell you he has bought me a diamond pin and ear-rings, which -Esther, who knows the value of everything, says never cost less than -five hundred dollars. - - “Your loving, - KATY CAMERON.” - -“Five hundred dollars!” and Aunt Betsy held up her hands in horror, -while Helen sat a long time with the letter in her hand, cogitating upon -its contents, and especially upon the part referring to herself, and -what Mark Ray had said of her. - -Every human heart is susceptible of flattery, and Helen’s was not an -exception. Still with her ideas of city men she could not at once think -favorably of Mark Ray, just for a few complimentary words which might or -might not have been in earnest, and she found herself looking forward -with nervous dread to the time when he would stop at Linwood, and of -course call on her, as he would bring a letter from Katy. - -Very sadly to the inmates of the farm-house rose the morning of the day -when Katy was to sail, and as if they could really see the tall masts of -the vessel which was to bear her away, the eyes of the whole family were -turned often to the eastward with a wistful, anxious gaze, while on -their lips and in their hearts were earnest prayers for the safety of -that ship and the precious freight it bore. But hours, however sad, will -wear themselves away, and so the day went on, succeeded by the night, -until that too had passed and another day had come, the second of Katy’s -ocean life. At the farm-house the work was all done up, and Helen in her -neat gingham dress, with her bands of brown hair bound about her head, -sat sewing, when she was startled by the sound of wheels, and looking up -saw the boy employed to carry packages from the express office, driving -to their door with a trunk, which he said had come that morning from -Boston. - -In some surprise Helen hastened to unlock it with the key which she -found appended to it. The trunk was full, and over the whole a linen -towel was folded, while on the top of that lay a letter in Katy’s -handwriting, directed to Helen, who, sitting down upon the floor, broke -the seal and read aloud as follows: - - BOSTON, JUNE—, Revere House - “Nearly midnight. - -“MY DEAR SISTER HELEN:—I have just come in from a little party given by -one of Mrs. Harvey’s friends, and I am _so_ tired, for you know I am not -accustomed to such late hours. The party was very pleasant indeed, and -everybody was so kind to me, especially Mr. Ray, who stood by me all the -time, and who somehow seemed to help me, so that I knew just what to do, -and was not awkward at all. I hope not, at least for Wilford’s sake. - -“You do not know how grand and dignified he is here in Boston among his -own set; he is so different from what he was in Silverton that I should -be afraid of him if I did not know how much he loves me. He shows that -in every action, and I am perfectly happy, except when I think that -to-morrow night at this time I shall be on the sea, going away from you -all. Here it does not seem far to Silverton, and I often look towards -home, wondering what you are doing, and if you miss me any. I wish I -could see you once before I go, just to tell you all how much I love -you—more than I ever did before, I am sure. - -“And now I come to the trunk. I know you will be surprised at its -contents, but you cannot be more so than I was when Wilford said I must -pack them up and send them back—all the dresses you and Marion made.” - -“No, oh no!” and Helen felt her strength leave her wrists in one sudden -throb as the letter dropped from her hand, while she tore off the linen -covering and saw for herself that Katy had written truly. - -She could not weep then, but her face was white as marble as she again -took up the letter and commenced at the point where she had broken off. - -“It seems that people traveling in Europe do not need many things, but -what they have must be just right, and so Mrs. Cameron wrote for Mrs. -Harvey to see to my wardrobe, and if I had not exactly what was proper -she was to procure it. It is very funny that she did not find a single -proper garment among them all, when we thought them so nice. They were -not just the style, she said, and that was very desirable in Mrs. -Wilford Cameron. Somehow she tries to impress me with the idea that -_Mrs. Wilford Cameron_ is a very different person from little Katy -Lennox, but I can see no difference except that I am a great deal -happier and have Wilford all the time. - -“Well, as I was telling you, I was measured and fitted, and my figure -praised, until my head was nearly turned, only I did not like the horrid -stays they put on me, squeezing me up and making me feel so stiff. Mrs. -Harvey says no lady does without them, expressing much surprise that I -had never worn them, and so I submit to the powers that be; but every -chance I get here in my room I take them off and throw them on the -floor, where Wilford has stumbled over them two or three times. - -“This afternoon the dresses came home, and they do look beautifully, -while every one has belt, and gloves, and ribbons, and sashes, and laces -or muslins to match—fashionable people are so particular about these -things. I have tried them on, and except that I think them too tight, -they fit admirably, and _do_ give me a different air from what Miss -Hazelton’s did. But I really believe I like the old ones best, because -_you_ helped to make them; and when Wilford said I must send them home, -I went where he could not see me and cried, because—well, I hardly know -why I cried, unless I feared you might feel badly. Dearest Helen, don’t, -will you? I love you just as much, and shall remember you the same as if -I wore the dresses. Dearest sister, I can fancy the look that will come -on your face, and I wish I could be present to kiss it away. Imagine me -there, will you? with my arms around your neck, and tell mother not to -mind. Tell her I never loved her so well as now, and that when I come -home from Europe I shall bring her ever so many things. There is a new -black silk for her in the trunk, and one for each of the aunties, while -for you there is a lovely brown, which Wilford said was just your style, -telling me to select as nice a silk as I pleased, and this he did, I -think, because he guessed I had been crying. He asked what made my eyes -so red, and when I would not tell him he took me with him to the silk -store and bade me get what I liked. Oh, he is the dearest, kindest -husband, and I love him all the more because I am the least bit afraid -of him. - -“And now I must stop, for Wilford says so. Dear Helen, dear all of you, -I can’t help crying as I say good-bye. Remember little Katy, and if she -ever did anything bad, don’t lay it up against her. Kiss Morris and -Uncle Ephraim, and say how much I love them. Darling sister, darling -mother, good-bye.” - -This was Katy’s letter, and it brought a gush of tears from the four -women remembered so lovingly in it, the mother and the aunts stealing -away to weep in secret, without ever stopping to look at the new dresses -sent to them by Wilford Cameron. They were very soft, very handsome, -especially Helen’s rich golden brown, and as she looked at it she felt a -thrill of satisfaction in knowing it was hers, but this quickly passed -as she took out one by one the garments she had folded with so much -care, wondering when Katy would wear each one and where she would be. - -“She will never wear them, never—they are not fine enough for her now!” -she exclaimed, and as she just then came upon the little plaid, she laid -her head upon the trunk lid, while her tears dropped like rain in among -the discarded articles condemned by Wilford Cameron. - -It seemed to her like Katy’s grave, and she was sobbing bitterly, when a -step sounded outside the window, and a voice called her name. It was -Morris, and lifting up her head Helen said passionately, - -“Oh, Morris, look! he has sent back all Katy’s clothes, which you bought -and I worked so hard to make. They were not good enough for his wife to -wear, and so he insulted us. Oh, Katy, I never fully realized till now -how wholly she is lost to us!” - -“Helen, Helen,” Morris kept saying, trying to stop her, for close behind -him was Mark Ray, who heard her distinctly, and glancing in, saw her -kneeling before the trunk, her pale face stained with tears, and her -dark eyes shining with excitement. - -Mark Ray understood it at once, feeling indignant at Wilford for thus -unnecessarily wounding the sensitive girl, whose expression, as she sat -there upon the floor, with her face upturned to Morris, haunted him for -months. Mark was sorry for her—so sorry that his first impulse was to go -quietly away, and so spare her the mortification of knowing that he had -witnessed that little scene; but it was now too late. As she finished -speaking her eye fell on him, and coloring scarlet she struggled to her -feet, and covering her face with her hands wept still more violently. -Mark was in a dilemma, and whispered softly to Morris, “I think I will -leave. You can tell her all I had to say;” but Helen heard him, and -mastering her agitation, she said to him, - -“Please, Mr. Ray, don’t go—not yet at least, not till I have asked you -of Katy. Did you see her off? Has she gone?” - -Thus importuned Mark Ray came in, and sitting down where his boot almost -touched the new brown silk, he very politely began to answer her rapid -questions, putting her entirely at her ease by his pleasant, affable -manner, and making her forget the littered appearance of the room, as -she listened to his praises of her sister, who, he said, seemed so very -happy, and attracted universal admiration wherever she went. No allusion -whatever was made to the trunk during the time of Mark’s stay, which was -not long. If he took the next train to New York, he had but an hour more -to spend, and feeling that Helen would rather he should spend it at -Linwood he soon arose to go. Offering his hand to Helen, there passed -from his eyes into hers a look which had over her a strangely quieting -influence, and prepared her for a remark which otherwise might have -seemed out of place. - -“I have known Wilford Cameron for years; he is my best friend, and I -respect him as a brother. In some things he may be peculiar, but he will -make your sister a kind husband. He loves her devotedly, I know, -choosing her from the throng of ladies who would gladly have taken her -place. I hope you will like him for _my_ sake as well as Katy’s.” - -His warm hand unclasped from Helen’s, and with another good-bye he was -gone, without seeing either Mrs. Lennox, Aunt Hannah or Aunt Betsy. This -was not the time for extending his acquaintance, he knew, and he went -away with Morris, feeling that the farm-house, so far as he could judge, -was not exactly what Wilford had pictured it. “But then he came for a -wife, and I did not,” he thought, while Helen’s face came before him as -it looked up to Morris, and he wondered, were he obliged to choose -between the sisters, which he should prefer. During the few days passed -in Boston he had become more than half in love with Katy himself, almost -envying his friend the pretty little creature he had won. She was very -beautiful and very fascinating in her simplicity, but there was -something in Helen’s face more attractive than mere beauty, and Mark -said to Morris as they walked along, - -“Miss Lennox is not much like her sister.” - -“Not much, no; but Helen is a splendid girl—more strength of character, -perhaps, than Katy, who is younger than her years even. She has always -been petted from babyhood; it will take time or some great sorrow to -show what she really is.” - -This was Morris’s reply, and the two then proceeded on in silence until -they reached the boundary line between Morris’s farm and Uncle -Ephraim’s, where they found the deacon mending a bit of broken fence, -his coat lying on a pile of stones, and his wide, blue cotton trowsers -hanging loosely around him. When told who Mark was, and that he brought -news of Katy, he greeted him cordially, and sitting down upon his fence -listened to all Mark had to say. Between the old and young man there -seemed at once a mutual liking, the former saying to himself as Mark -went on, and he resumed his work, - -“I most wish it was this chap with Katy on the sea. I like his looks the -best,” while Mark’s thoughts were, - -“Will need not be ashamed of that man, though I don’t suppose _I_ should -really want him coming suddenly in among a drawing-room full of guests.” - -Morris did not feel much like entertaining Mark, but Mark was fully -competent to entertain himself, and thought the hour spent at Linwood a -very pleasant one, half wishing for some excuse to tarry longer; but -there was none, and so at the appointed time he bade Morris good-bye and -went on his way to New York. - - - - - CHAPTER XII. - FIRST MONTHS OF MARRIED LIFE. - - -If Katy’s letters, written, one on board the steamer and another from -London, were to be trusted, she was as nearly perfectly happy as a young -bride well can be, and the people at the farm-house felt themselves more -and more kindly disposed towards Wilford Cameron with each letter -received. They were going soon into the northern part of England, and -from thence into Scotland, Katy wrote from London, and two weeks after -found them comfortably settled at the inn at Alnwick, near to Alnwick -Castle. Wilford had seemed very anxious to get there, leaving London -before Katy was quite ready, and hurrying across the country until -Alnwick was reached. He had been there before, years ago, he said, but -no one seemed to recognize him, though all paid due respect to the -distinguished looking American and his beautiful young wife. An entrance -into Alnwick Castle was easily obtained, and Katy felt that all her -girlish dreams of grandeur and magnificence were more than realized here -in this home of the Percys, where ancient and modern styles of -architecture and furnishing were so blended together. She would never -tire of that place, she thought, but Wilford’s taste led him elsewhere, -and he took more delight in wandering around St. Mary’s church, which -stood upon a hill commanding a view of the castle and of the surrounding -country for miles away. Here Katy also came, rambling with him through -the village grave-yard where slept the dust of centuries, the grey, -mossy tomb-stones bearing date backward for more than a hundred years, -their quaint inscriptions both puzzling and amusing Katy, who studied -them by the hour. - -One quiet summer morning, however, when the heat was unusually great, -she felt too listless to wander about, and so sat upon the grass, -listening to the birds as they sang above her head, while Wilford, at -some distance from her, stood leaning against a tree and thinking sad, -regretful thoughts, as his eye rested upon the rough headstone at his -feet. - -“Genevra Lambert, aged 22,” was the lettering upon it, and as he read it -a feeling of reproach was in his heart, while he said, “I hope I am not -glad to know that she is dead.” - -He had come to Alnwick for the sole purpose of finding that humble -grave—of assuring himself that after life’s fitful fever, Genevra -Lambert slept quietly, forgetful of the wrong once done to her by him. -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. But the task was harder now than -before. Katy was so happy with him, trusting his love so fully that he -dared not lift the veil and read to her that page hinted at once in -Silverton, when they sat beneath the butternut tree, with the fresh -young grass springing around them. Then she was not his wife, and the -fear that she would not be if he told her all had kept him silent, but -now she was his alone; nothing could undo that, and there, in the shadow -of the grey old church through whose aisles Genevra had been borne out -to where the rude headstone was gleaming in the English sunlight, it -seemed meet that he should tell the sad story. And Katy would have -forgiven him then, for not a shadow of regret had darkened her life -since it was linked with his, and in her perfect love she could have -pardoned much. But Wilford did not tell. It was not needful, he made -himself believe—not necessary for her ever to know that once he met a -maiden called Genevra, almost as beautiful as she, but never so beloved. -_No, never._ Wilford said that truly, when that night he bent over his -sleeping Katy, comparing her face with Genevra’s, and his love for her -with his love for Genevra. - -Wilford was very fond of his girlish wife, and very proud of her, too, -when strangers paused, as they often did, to look back after her. Thus -far nothing had arisen to mar the happiness of his first weeks of -married life, except the letters from Silverton, over which Katy always -cried, until he sometimes wished that the family could not write. But -they could and they did; even Aunt Betsy inclosed in Helen’s letter a -note, wonderful both in orthography and composition, and concluding with -the remark that “she would be glad when Catherine returned and was -settled in a home of her own, as she would then have a new place to -visit.” - -There was a dark frown on Wilford’s face, and for a moment he felt -tempted to withhold the note from Katy, but this he could not do then, -so he gave it into her bands, watching her as with burning cheeks, she -read it through, and asking her at its close why she looked so red. - -“Oh, Wilford,” and she crept closely to him, “Aunt Betsy spells so -queerly, that I was wishing you would not always open my letters first. -Do all husbands do so?” - -It was the only time Katy had ventured to question a single act of his, -submitting without a word to whatever was his will. Wilford knew that -his father would never have presumed to break a seal belonging to his -mother, but he had broken Katy’s, and he should continue breaking them, -so he answered, laughingly, - -“Why, yes, I guess they do. My little wife has surely no secrets to hide -from me?” - -“No secrets,” Katy answered, “only I did not want you to see Aunt -Betsy’s letter, that’s all.” - -“I did not marry Aunt Betsy—I married you,” was Wilford’s reply, which -meant far more than Katy guessed. - -With three thousand miles between him and his wife’s relatives, Wilford -could endure to think of them; but whenever letters came to Katy bearing -the Silverton postmark, he was conscious of a far different sensation -from what he experienced when the postmark was New York and the -handwriting that of his own family. But not in any way did this feeling -manifest itself to Katy, who, as she always wrote to Helen, was very, -very happy, and never more so, perhaps, than while they were at Alnwick, -where, as if he had something for which to atone, he was unusually kind -and indulgent, caressing her with unwonted tenderness, and making her -ask him once if he loved her a great deal more now than when they were -first married. - -“Yes, darling, a great deal more,” was Wilford’s answer, as he kissed -her upturned face, and then went for the last time to Genevra’s grave; -for on the morrow they were to leave the neighborhood of Alnwick for the -heather blooms of Scotland. - -There was a trip to Edinburgh, a stormy passage across the Straits of -Dover, a two months’ sojourn in Paris, and then they went to Rome, where -Wilford intended to pass the winter, journeying in the spring through -different parts of Europe. He was in no haste to return to America; he -would rather stay where he could have Katy all to himself, away from her -family and his own. But it was not so to be, and not very long after his -arrival at Rome there came a letter from his mother apprising him of his -father’s dangerous illness, and asking him to come home at once. The -elder Cameron had not been well since Wilford left the country, and the -physician was fearful that the disease had assumed a consumptive form, -Mrs. Cameron wrote, adding that her husband’s only anxiety was to see -his son again. To this there was no demur, and about the first of -December, six months from the time he had sailed, Wilford arrived in -Boston, having taken a steamer for that city. His first act was to -telegraph for news of his father, receiving in reply that he was better; -the alarming symptoms had disappeared, and there was now great hope of -his recovery. - -“We might have stayed longer in Europe,” Katy said, feeling a little -chill of disappointment—not that her father-in-law was better, but at -being called home for nothing, when her life abroad was so happy and -free from care. - -Somehow the atmosphere of America seemed different from what it used to -be. It was colder, bluer, the little lady said, tapping her foot -uneasily and looking from her windows at the Revere out upon the snowy -streets, through which the wintry wind was blowing in heavy gales. - -“Yes, it is a heap colder,” she sighed, as she returned to the large -chair which Esther had drawn for her before the cheerful fire, charging -her disquiet to the weather, but never dreaming of imputing it to her -husband, who was far more its cause than was the December cold. - -He, too, though glad of his father’s improvement, was sorry to have been -recalled for nothing to a country which brought his old life back again, -with all its forms and ceremonies, and revived his dread lest Katy -should not acquit herself as was becoming Mrs. Wilford Cameron. In his -selfishness he had kept her almost wholly to himself, so that the polish -she was to acquire from her travels abroad was not as perceptible as he -could desire. Katy was Katy still, in spite of London, Paris, or Rome. -To be sure there was about her a little more maturity and -self-assurance, but in all essential points she was the same: and -Wilford winced as he thought how the free, impulsive manner which, among -the Scottish hills, where there was no one to criticize, had been so -charming to him, would shock his lady mother and sister Juno. And this -it was which made him moody and silent, replying hastily to Katy when -she said to him, “Please, Wilford, telegraph to Helen to be with mother -at the West depot when we pass there to-morrow. The train stops five -minutes, you know, and I want to see them so much. Will you, Wilford?” - -She had come up to him now, and was standing behind him, with her hands -upon his shoulder; so she did not see the expression of his face as he -answered quickly. - -“Yes, yes.” - -A moment after he quitted the room, and it was then that Katy, standing -before the window, charged the day with what was strictly Wilford’s -fault. Returning at last to her chair she went off into a reverie as to -the new home to which she was going and the new friends she was to meet, -wondering what they would think of her, and if they would like her. Once -she had said to Wilford, - -“Which of your sisters shall I like best?” - -And Wilford had answered her by asking, - -“Which do you like best, _books_ or going to parties in full dress?” - -“Oh, parties and dress,” Katy had said, and Wilford had then rejoined, - -“You will like Juno best, for she is all fashion and gayety, while -Blue-Bell prefers her books and the quiet of her own room.” - -Katy felt afraid of Bell, and in fact, now that they were so near, she -felt afraid of them all, notwithstanding Esther’s assurances that they -could not help loving her. During the six months they had been together -Esther had learned to feel for her young lady that strong affection -which sometimes exists between mistress and servant. Everything which -she could do for her she did, smoothing as much as possible the meeting -which she also dreaded, for though the Camerons were too proud to -express before her their opinion of Wilford’s choice, she had guessed it -readily, and pitied the young wife brought up with ideas so different -from those of her husband’s family. More accustomed to Wilford’s moods -than Katy, she saw that something was the matter, and it prompted her to -unusual attentions, stirring the fire into a cheerful blaze and bringing -a stool for Katy, who, in blissful ignorance of her husband’s real -feelings, sat waiting his return from the telegraph office whither she -supposed he had gone, and building pleasant pictures of to-morrow’s -meeting with her mother and Helen, and possibly Dr. Morris, if not Uncle -Ephraim himself. - -So absorbed was she in her reverie as not to hear Wilford’s step as he -came in, but when he stood behind her and took her head playfully -between his hands, she started up, feeling that the weather had changed; -it was not as cold and dreary in Boston as she imagined, and laying her -head on Wilford’s shoulder, she said, - -“You went out to telegraph, didn’t you?” - -He had gone out with the intention of telegraphing as she desired, but -in the hall below he had met with an old acquaintance who talked with -him so long that he entirely forgot his errand until Katy recalled it to -his mind, making him feel very uncomfortable as he frankly told her of -his forgetfulness. - -“It is too late now,” he added, “besides you could only see them for a -moment, just long enough to make you cry—a thing I do not greatly -desire, inasmuch as I wish my wife to look her best when I present her -to my family, and with red eyes she couldn’t, you know.” - -Katy knew it was settled, and choking back the tears, she tried to -listen, while Wilford, having fairly broken the ice with regard to his -family, told her how anxious he was that she should make a good first -impression upon his mother. Did Katy remember that Mrs. Morey whom they -met at Paris, and could she not throw a little of _her air_ into her -manner, that is, could she not drop her girlishness when in the presence -of others and be a little more dignified? When alone with him he liked -to have her just what she was, a loving, affectionate little wife, but -the world looked on such things differently. Would Katy try? - -Wilford when he commenced had no definite idea as to what he should say, -and without meaning it he made Katy moan piteously. - -“I don’t know what you mean. I would do anything if I knew how. Tell me, -how _shall_ I be dignified?” - -She was crying so hard that Wilford, while mentally calling himself a -fool and a brute, could only try to comfort her, telling her she need -not be anything but what she was—that his mother and sisters would love -her just as he did—and that daily association with them would teach her -all that was necessary. - -Katy’s tears were stopped at last; but the frightened, anxious look did -not leave her face, even though Wilford tried his best to divert her -mind. A nervous terror of her new relations had gained possession of her -heart, and nearly the entire night she lay awake, pondering in her mind -what Wilford had said, and thinking how terrible it would be if he -should be disappointed in her after all. The consequence of this was -that a very white tired face sat opposite Wilford next morning at the -breakfast served in their private parlor; nor did it look much fresher -even after they were in the cars and rolling out of Boston. But when -Worcester was reached, and the old home way-marks began to grow -familiar, the color came stealing back, until the cheeks burned with an -unnatural red, and the blue eyes fairly danced as they rested on the -hills of Silverton. - -“Only three miles from mother and Helen! Oh, if I could go there!” Katy -thought, working her fingers nervously; but the express train did not -pause there, and it went so swiftly by the depot that Katy could hardly -distinguish who was standing there, whether friend or stranger. - -But when at last they came to West Silverton, and the long train slowly -stopped, the first object she saw was Dr. Morris, driving down from the -village. He had no intention of going to the depot, and only checked his -horse a moment, lest it should prove restive if too near the engine; but -when a clear young voice called from the window, “Morris! oh, Cousin -Morris! I’ve come!” his heart gave a great throb, for he knew whose -voice it was and whose the little hand beckoning to him. He had supposed -her far away beneath Italian skies, for at the farm-house no -intelligence had been received of her intended return, and in much -surprise he reined up to the rear door, and throwing his lines to a boy, -went forward to where Katy stood, her face glowing with delight as she -flew into his arms, wholly forgetful of the last night’s lecture on -dignity, and also forgetful of Wilford, standing close beside her. He -had not tried to hold her back when, at the sight of Morris, she sprang -away from him; but he followed after, biting his lip, and wishing she -had a little more discretion. Surely it was not necessary to half -strangle Dr. Grant as she was doing, kissing his hand after she had -kissed his face a full half dozen times, and all the people looking on. -But Katy did not care for people. She only knew that Morris was -there—the Morris whom, in her great happiness abroad, she had perhaps -slighted by not writing directly to him but once. In Wilford’s -sheltering care she had not felt the need of this good cousin, as she -used to do; but she was so glad to see him, wondering why he looked so -thin and sad. Was he sick? she asked, with a pitying look, which made -him shiver as he answered, - -“No, not sick, though tired, perhaps, as I have at present an unusual -amount of work to do.” - -And this was true—he was unusually busy. But that was not the cause of -his thin face, which others than Katy remarked. Helen’s words, “It might -have been,” spoken to him on the night of Katy’s bridal, had never left -his mind, much as he had tried to dislodge them. Some men can love a -dozen times; but it was not so with Morris. He could overcome his love -so that it should not be a sin, but no other could ever fill the place -where Katy had been; and as he looked along the road through life he -felt that he must travel it alone. Truly, if Katy were not yet passing -through the fire, he was, and it had left its mark upon him, purifying -as it burned, and bringing his every act into closer submission to his -God. Only Helen and Marian Hazelton interpreted aright that look upon -his face, and knew it came from the hunger of his heart, but they kept -silence; while others said that he was working far too hard, urging him -to abate his unwearied labors, for they would not lose their young -physician yet. But Morris smiled his patient, kindly smile on all their -fears and went his way, doing his work as one who knew he must render -strict account for the popularity he was daily gaining, both in his own -town and those around. He could think of Katy now without a sin, but he -was not thinking of her when she came so unexpectedly upon him, and for -an instant she almost bore his breath away in her vehement joy. - -Quick to note a change in those he knew, he saw that her form was not -quite so full, nor her cheeks so round; but she was weary with the -voyage, and knowing how sea-sickness will wear upon one’s strength, -Morris imputed it wholly to that, and believed she was, as she professed -to be, perfectly happy. - -“Come, Katy, we must go now,” Wilford said, as the bell rang its first -alarm, and the passengers, some with sandwiches and some with fried -cakes in their hands, ran back to find their seats. - -“Yes, I know, but I have not asked half I meant to. Oh, how I want to go -home with you, Morris,” Katy exclaimed, again throwing her arms around -the doctor’s neck as she bade him good-bye, and sent fresh messages of -love to the friends at home, who, had they known she was to be there at -that time, would have walked the entire distance for the sake of looking -once more into her dear face. - -“I intended to have brought them heaps of things,” she said, “but we -came home so suddenly I had no time. Here, take Helen this. Tell her it -is _real_,” and the impulsive creature drew from her finger a small -diamond set in black enamel, which Wilford had bought in Paris. - -“She did not need it; she had two more, and she was sure Wilford would -not mind,” she said, turning to him for his approbation. - -But Wilford did mind, and his face indicated as much, although he tried -to be natural as he replied, “Certainly, send it if you like.” - -In her excitement Katy did not observe it, but Morris did, and he at -first declined taking it, saying Helen had no use for it, and would be -better pleased with something not half as valuable. Katy, however, -insisted, appealing to Wilford, who, ashamed of his first emotion, now -seemed quite as anxious as Katy herself, until Morris placed the ring in -his purse, and then bade Katy hasten or she would certainly be left. One -more wave of the hand, one more kiss thrown from the window, and the -train moved on, Katy feeling like a different creature for having seen -some one from home. - -“I am so glad I saw him—so glad I sent the ring, for now they will know -I am the same Katy Lennox, and I think Helen sometimes feared I might -get proud with you,” she said, while Wilford pulled her rich fur around -her, smiling to see how bright and pretty she was looking since that -meeting with Dr. Grant. “It was better than medicine,” Katy said, when -beyond Springfield he referred to it a second time, and leaning her head -upon his shoulder she fell into a refreshing sleep, from which she did -not waken until New York was reached, and Wilford, lifting her gently -up, whispered to her, “Come, darling, we are home at last.” - - - - - CHAPTER XIII. - KATY’S FIRST EVENING IN NEW YORK. - - -The elder Cameron was really better, and more than once he had regretted -recalling his son, who he knew had contemplated a longer stay abroad. -But that could not now be helped. Wilford had arrived in Boston, as his -telegram of yesterday announced—he would be at home to-day; and No.—— -Fifth Avenue was all the morning and a portion of the afternoon the -scene of unusual excitement, for both Mrs. Cameron and her daughters -wished to give the six months’ wife a good impression of her new home. -At first they thought of inviting company to dinner, but to this the -father objected. “Katy should not be troubled the first day,” he said; -“it was bad enough for her to meet them all; they could ask Mark if they -chose, but no one else.” - -And so only Mark Ray was invited to the dinner, gotten up as elaborately -as if a princess had been expected instead of little Katy, trembling in -every joint when, about four P. M., Wilford awoke her at the depot and -whispered, “Come, darling, we are home at last.” - -“Why do you shiver so?” he asked, wrapping her cloak around her, and -almost lifting her from the car. - -“I don’t—know. I guess—I’m cold,” and Katy drew a long breath as she -thought of Silverton and the farm-house, wishing that she was going into -its low-walled kitchen, instead of the handsome carriage, where the -cushions were so soft and yielding, and the whole effect so grand. - -“What would our folks say?” she kept repeating to herself as she drove -along the streets, where they were beginning to light the street lamps, -for the December day was dark and cloudy. It seemed so like a dream, -that she, who once had picked huckle-berries on the Silverton hills, and -bound coarse heavy shoes to buy herself a pink gingham dress, should now -be riding in her carriage toward the home which she knew was -magnificent; and Katy’s tears fell like rain as, nestling close to -Wilford, who asked what was the matter, she whispered, “I can hardly -believe that it is I—it is so unreal.” - -“Please don’t cry,” Wilford rejoined, brushing her tears away. “You know -I don’t like your eyes to be red.” - -With a great effort Katy kept her tears back, and was very calm when -they reached the brown-stone front, far enough up town to save it from -the slightest approach to plebeianism. In the hall the chandelier was -burning, and as the carriage stopped a flame of light seemed suddenly to -burst from every window as the gas heads were turned up, so that Katy -caught glimpses of rich silken curtains and costly lace as she went up -the steps, clinging to Wilford and looking ruefully around for Esther, -who had disappeared through the basement door. Another moment and they -stood within the marbled hall, Katy conscious of nothing -definite—nothing but a vague atmosphere of refined elegance, and that a -richly-dressed lady came out to meet them, kissing Wilford quietly and -calling him her son; that the same lady turned to her saying kindly, -“And this is my new daughter?” - -Then Katy came to life, and did that, at the very thought of which she -shuddered when a few months’ experience had taught her the temerity of -the act—she wound her arms impulsively around Mrs. Cameron’s neck, -rumpling her point lace collar, and sadly displacing the coiffure of the -astonished lady, who had seldom received so genuine a greeting as that -which Katy gave her, kissing her lips and whispering softly, “I love you -now, because you are Wilford’s mother, but by and by because you are -mine. And you _will_ love me some because I am his wife.” - -Wilford was horrified, particularly when he saw how startled his mother -looked as she tried to release herself and adjust her tumbled head-gear. -It was not what he had hoped, nor what his mother had expected, for she -was unaccustomed to such demonstrations; but under the circumstances -Katy could not have done better. There was a tender spot in Mrs. -Cameron’s heart, and Katy touched it, making her feel a throb of -affection for the childish creature suing for her love. - -“Yes, darling, I love you now,” she said, removing Katy’s clinging arms -and taking care that they should not enfold her a second time. “You are -tired and cold,” she continued; “and had better go at once to your -rooms. I will send Esther up. There is plenty of time to dress for -dinner,” and with a wave of her hand she dismissed Katy up the stairs, -noticing as she went the exquisite softness of her fur cloak; but -thinking it too heavy a garment for her slight figure, and noticing, -too, the graceful ankle and foot which the little high-heeled gaiter -showed to good advantage. “I did not see her face distinctly, but she -has a well-turned instep and walks easily,” was the report she carried -to her daughters, who, in their own room over Katy’s, were dressing for -dinner. - -“She will undoubtedly make a good dancer, then, unless, like Dr. Grant, -she is too blue for that,” Juno said, while Bell shrugged her shoulders, -congratulating herself that she had a mind above such frivolous matters -as dancing and well-turned insteps, and wondering if Katy cared in the -least for books. - -“Couldn’t you see her face at all, mother?” Juno asked. - -“Scarcely; but the glimpse I did get was satisfactory. I think she is -pretty.” - -And this was all the sisters could ascertain until their toilets were -finished, and they went down into the library, where their brother -waited for them, kissing them both affectionately, and complimenting -them on their good looks. - -“I wish we could say the same of you,” Juno answered, playfully pulling -his moustache; “but upon my word, Will, you are fast settling down into -an oldish married man, even turning gray,” and she ran her fingers -through his dark hair, where there was now and then a thread of silver. -“Disappointed in your domestic relations, eh?” she continued, looking -him archly in the face. - -Wilford was rather proud of his good looks, and during his sojourn -aboard, Katy had not helped him any in overcoming this weakness, but on -the contrary, had fed his vanity by constant flattery. And still he was -himself conscious of not looking quite as well as usual just now, for -the sea voyage had tired him as well as Katy, but he did not care to be -told of it, and Juno’s ill-timed remarks roused him at once, -particularly as they reflected somewhat on Katy. - -“I assure you I am not disappointed,” he answered, “and the six months -of my married life have been the happiest I ever knew. Katy is more than -I expected her to be.” - -Juno elevated her eyebrows slightly, but made no direct reply, while -Bell began to ask about Paris and the places he had visited. - -Meanwhile Katy had been ushered into her room, which was directly over -the library, and separated from Mrs. Cameron’s only by a range of -closets and presses, a portion of which were to be appropriated to her -own use. Great pains had been taken to make her rooms attractive, and as -the large bay window in the library below extended to the third story, -it was really the pleasantest chamber in the house. To Katy it was -perfect, and her first exclamation was one of delight. - -“Oh, how pleasant, how beautiful!” she cried, skipping across the soft -carpet to the warm fire blazing in the grate. “A bay window, too, when I -like them so much. I shall be happy here.” - -But happy as she was, Katy could not help feeling tired, and she sank -into one of the luxurious easy-chairs, wishing she could stay there all -the evening instead of going down to that formidable dinner with her new -relations. How she dreaded it, especially when she remembered that Mrs. -Cameron had said there would be plenty of time to _dress_—a thing which -Katy hated, the process was so tiresome, particularly to-night. Surely -her handsome traveling dress, made in Paris, was good enough, and she -was about settling in her own mind to venture upon wearing it, when -Esther demolished her castle at once. - -“Wear your traveling habit!” she exclaimed, “when the young ladies, -especially Miss Juno, are so particular about their dinner costume. -There would be no end to the scolding I should get for suffering it,” -and she began good-naturedly to remove her mistress’s collar and pin, -while Katy, standing up, sighed as she said, “I wish I was in Silverton -to-night. I could wear anything there. What must I put on? How I dread -it!” and she began to shiver again. - -Fortunately for Katy, Esther had been in the family long enough to know -just what they regarded proper, as by this means the dress selected was -sure to please. It was very becoming to Katy, and having been made in -Paris was not open to criticism. - -“Very pretty indeed,” was Mrs. Cameron’s verdict, when at half-past five -she came in to see her daughter, kissing her cheek and stroking her -head, wholly unadorned except by the short, silken curls which could not -be coaxed to grow faster than they chose, and which had sometimes -annoyed Wilford, they made his wife seem so young beside him. Mrs. -Cameron was annoyed, too, for she had no idea of a head except as it was -connected with a hair-dresser, and her annoyance showed itself as she -asked, - -“Did you have your hair cut on purpose?” - -But when Katy explained, she answered pleasantly, - -“Never mind, it is a fault which will mend every day, only it makes you -look like a child.” - -“I am eighteen and a half,” Katy said, feeling a lump rising in her -throat, for she guessed that her mother-in-law was not quite pleased -with her hair. - -For herself, she liked it, it was so easy to brush and fix. She should -go wild if she had to submit to all Esther had told her of hair-dressing -and what it involved. - -Mrs. Cameron had asked if she would not like to see Mr. Cameron, the -elder, before going down to dinner, and Katy had answered that she -would; so as soon as Esther had smoothed a refractory fold and brought -her handkerchief, she followed to the room where Wilford’s father was -sitting. He might not have felt complimented could he have known that -something in his appearance reminded Katy of Uncle Ephraim. He was not -nearly as old or as tall, nor was his hair as white, but the -resemblance, if there were any, lay in the smile with which he greeted -Katy, calling her his youngest child, and drawing her closely to him. - -It was remarked of Mr. Cameron that since their babyhood he had never -kissed one of his own children; but when Katy, who looked upon such a -salutation as a matter of course, put up her rosy lips, making the first -advance, he kissed her twice. Hearty, honest kisses they were, for the -man was strongly drawn towards the young girl, who said to him timidly, - -“I am glad to have a father—mine died before I could remember him. May I -call you so?” - -“Yes, yes; God bless you, my child,” and Mr. Cameron’s voice shook as he -said it, for neither Bell nor Juno were wont to address him just as Katy -did—Katy, standing close to him, with her hand upon his shoulder and her -kiss fresh upon his lips. - -She had already crept a long way into his heart, and he took her hand -from his shoulder and holding it between his own, said to her, - -“I did not think you were so small or young. You are my little daughter, -my baby, instead of my son’s wife. How do you ever expect to fulfill the -duties of Mrs. Wilford Cameron? - -“It’s my short hair, sir. I am not so young,” Katy answered, her eyes -filling with tears as she began to wish back the thick curls Helen cut -away when the fever was at its height. - -“Never mind, child,” Mr. Cameron rejoined playfully. “Youth is no -reproach; there’s many a one would give their right hand to be young -like you. Juno for instance, who is—” - -“Hus-band!” came reprovingly from Mrs. Cameron, spoken as only she could -speak it, with a prolonged buzzing sound on the first syllable, and -warning the husband that he was venturing too far. - -“It is time to go down if Mrs. Cameron sees the young ladies before -dinner,” she said, a little stiffly; whereupon her better half startled -Katy with the exclamation, - -“Mrs. Cameron! Thunder and lightning! wife, call her Katy, and don’t go -into any nonsense of that kind.” - -The lady reddened, but said nothing until she reached the hall, when she -whispered to Katy, apologetically, - -“Don’t mind it. He is rather irritable since his illness, and sometimes -makes use of coarse language.” - -Katy had been a little frightened at the outburst, but she liked Mr. -Cameron notwithstanding, and her heart was lighter as she went down to -the library, where Wilford met her at the door, and taking her on his -arm led her in to his sisters, holding her back as he presented her, -lest she should assault them as she had his mother. But Katy felt no -desire to hug the tall, queenly girl whom Wilford introduced as Juno, -and whose black eyes seemed to read her through as she offered her hand -and very daintily kissed her forehead, murmuring something about a -welcome to New York. Bell came next, broad-faced, plainer-looking Bell, -who yet had many pretentions to beauty, but whose manner, if possible, -was frostier, cooler than her sister’s. Of the two Katy liked Juno best, -for there was about her a flash and sparkle very fascinating to one who -had never seen anything of the kind, and did not know that much of this -vivacity was the result of patient study and practice. Katy would have -known they were high bred, as the world defines high breeding, and -something in their manner reminded her of the ladies she had seen -abroad, ladies in whose veins lordly blood was flowing. She could not -help feeling uncomfortable in their presence, especially as she felt -that Juno’s black eyes were on her constantly. Not that she could ever -meet them looking at her, for they darted away the instant hers were -raised, but she knew just when they returned to her again, and how -closely they were scanning her. - -“Your wife looks tired, Will. Let her sit down,” Bell said, herself -wheeling the easy-chair nearer to the fire, while Wilford placed Katy in -it; then, thinking she would get on better if he were not there, he left -the room, and Katy was alone with her new sisters. - -Juno had examined her dress and found no fault with it, simply because -it was Parisian made; while Bell had examined her head, deciding that -there might be something in it, though she doubted it, but that at all -events short hair was very becoming to it, showing all its fine -proportions, and half deciding to have her own locks cut away. Juno had -a similar thought, wondering if it were the Paris fashion, and if she -would look as young in proportion as Katy did were her hair worn on her -neck. - -With their brother’s departure the tongues of both the girls were -loosened, and standing near to Katy they began to question her of what -she had seen, Juno asking if she did not hate to leave Italy, and did -not wish herself back again. Wholly truthful, Katy answered, “Oh, yes, I -would rather be there than home.” - -“Complimentary to us, very,” Bell murmured audibly in French, blushing -as Katy’s eyes were lifted quickly to hers, and she knew she was -understood. - -If there was anything which Katy liked more than another in the way of -study, it was French. She had excelled in it at Canandaigua, and while -abroad had taken great pains to acquire a pure pronunciation, so that -she spoke it with a good deal of fluency, and readily comprehended Bell. - -“I did not mean to be rude,” she said, earnestly. “I liked Italy so -much, and we expected to stay longer; but that does not hinder my liking -to be here. I hope I did not offend you.” - -“Certainly not; you are an honest little puss,” Bell replied, placing -her hand caressingly upon the curly head laying back so wearily on the -chair. “Here in New York we have a bad way of not telling the whole -truth, but you will soon be used to it.” - -“Used to not telling the truth! Oh, I hope not!” and this time the blue -eyes lifted so wonderingly to Bell’s face had in them a startled look. - -“Simpleton!” was Juno’s mental comment, while Bell’s was, “I like the -child,” as she continued to smooth the golden curls and wind them round -her finger, wondering if Katy had a taste for metaphysics, that being -the last branch of science which she had taken up. - -“I suppose you find Will a pattern husband,” Juno said after a moment’s -pause, and Katy replied, “There never could be a better, I am sure, and -I have been very happy.” - -“Has he never said one cross word to you in all these six months?” was -Juno’s next question, to which Katy answered truthfully, “Never.” - -“And lets you do as you please?” - -“Yes, just as I please,” Katy replied, while Juno continued, “He must -have changed greatly then from what he used to be; but marriage has -probably improved him. He tells you all his _secrets_, too, I presume?” - -Anxious that Wilford should appear well in every light, Katy replied at -random, “Yes, if he has any.” - -“Well, then,” and in Juno’s black eyes there was a wicked look, “perhaps -you will tell me who was or is the original of that picture he guards so -carefully.” - -“What picture?” and Katy looked up inquiringly, while Juno, with a -little sarcastic laugh, continued: “Oh, he has not told you then. I -thought he would not, he was so angry when he saw me with it three or -four years ago. I found it in his room where he had accidentally left -it, and was looking at it when he came in. It was the picture of a young -girl who must have been very beautiful, and I did not blame Will for -loving her if he ever did, but he need not have been so indignant at me -for wishing to know who it was. I never saw him so angry or so much -disturbed. I hope you will ferret the secret out and tell me, for I have -a great deal of curiosity, fancying that picture had something to do -with his remaining so long a bachelor. I do not mean that he does not -love you,” she added, as she saw how white Katy grew. “It is not to be -expected that a man can live to be thirty without loving more than one. -There was Sybil Grey, a famous belle, whom I thought at one time he -would marry; but when Judge Grandon offered she accepted, and Will was -left in the lurch. I do not really believe he cared though, for Sybil -was too much of a flirt to suit his jealous lordship, and I will do him -the justice to say that however many fancies he may have had, he likes -you the best of all;” and this Juno felt constrained to say because of -the look in Katy’s face, which warned her that in her thoughtlessness -she had gone too far and pierced the young wife’s heart with a pang as -cruel as it was unnecessary. - -Bell had tried to stop her, but she had rattled on until now it was too -late, and she could not recall her words, however much she might wish to -do so. “Don’t tell Will,” she was about to say, when Will himself -appeared, to take Katy out to dinner. Very beautiful and sad were the -blue eyes which looked up at him so wistfully, and nothing but the -remembrance of Juno’s words, “He likes you best of all,” kept Katy from -crying outright, when he took her hand, and asked if she was tired. - -“Let us try what dinner will do for you,” he said, and in silence Katy -went with him to the dining-room, where the glare and the ceremony -bewildered her, bringing a homesick feeling as she thought of Silverton, -and the plain tea-table, graced with the mulberry set instead of the -costly china before her. - -Never had Katy felt so embarrassed as she did when seated for the first -time at dinner in her husband’s home, with all those criticising eyes -upon her. She had been very hungry, but her appetite was gone and she -almost loathed the rich food offered her, feeling so glad when the -dinner was ended, and Wilford took her to the parlor, where she found -Mark Ray waiting for her. He had been obliged to decline Mrs. Cameron’s -invitation to dinner, but had come as early as possible after it, and -Katy was delighted to see him, for she remembered how he had helped her -during that week of gayety in Boston, when society was so new to her. As -he had been then, so he was now, and his friendly manner put Katy as -much at her ease as it was possible for her to be in the presence of -Wilford’s mother and sisters. - -“I suppose you have not seen your sister Helen? You know I called -there,” Mark said to Katy; but before she could reply, a pair of black -eyes shot a keen glance at luckless Mark, and Juno’s sharp voice said -quickly, “I did not know you had the honor of Miss Lennox’s -acquaintance.” - -Mark was in a dilemma. He had kept his call at Silverton to himself, as -he did not care to be questioned about Katy’s family; and now, when it -accidentally came out, he tried to make some evasive reply, pretending -that he had spoken of it, and Juno had forgotten. But Juno knew better, -and from that night dated a strong feeling of dislike for Helen Lennox, -whom she affected to despise, even though she could be jealous of her. -Wisely changing the conversation, Mark asked Katy to play, and as she -seldom refused, she went at once to the piano, astonishing both Mrs. -Cameron and her daughters with the brilliancy of her performance. Even -Juno complimented her, saying she must have taken lessons very young. - -“When I was ten,” Katy answered. “Cousin Morris gave me my first -exercise himself. He plays sometimes.” - -“Yes, I knew that,” Juno replied. “Does your sister play as well as -you?” - -Katy knew that Helen did not, and she answered frankly, “Morris thinks -she does not. She is not as fond of it as I am.” Then feeling that she -must in some way make amends for Helen, she added, “But she knows a -great deal more than I do about _books_. Helen is very smart.” - -There was a smile on every lip at this ingenuous remark, but only Mark -and Bell liked Katy the better for it. Wilford did not care to have her -talking of her friends, and he kept her at the piano, until she said her -fingers were tired and begged leave to stop. - -It was late ere Mark bade them good night; so late that Katy began to -wonder if he would never go, yawning once so perceptibly that Wilford -gave her a reproving glance, which sent the hot blood to her face and -drove from her every feeling of drowsiness. Even after he had gone the -family were in no haste to retire, but sat chatting with Wilford until -the city clock struck twelve and Katy was nodding in her chair. - -“Poor child, she is very tired,” Wilford said, apologetically, gently -waking Katy, who begged them to excuse her, and followed her husband to -her room, where she was free to ask him what she must ask before she -could ever be quite as happy as she had been before. - -Going up to the chair where Wilford was sitting before the fire, and -standing partly behind him, she said timidly, “Will you answer me one -thing truly?” - -Alone with Katy, Wilford felt all his old tenderness returning, and -drawing her into his lap he asked her what it was she wished to know. - -“_Did_ you love anybody three or four years ago, or ever—that is, love -them well enough to wish to make them your wife?” - -Katy could feel how Wilford started, as he said, “What put that idea -into your head? Who has been talking to you?” - -“Juno,” Katy answered. “She told me she believed that it was some other -love which kept you a bachelor so long. Was it, Wilford?” and Katy’s -lips quivered in a grieved kind of way as she put the question. - -“Juno be——” - -Wilford did not say what, for he seldom swore, and never in a lady’s -presence. So he said instead, - -“It was very unkind in Juno to distress you with matters about which she -knew nothing.” - -“But did you?” Katy asked again. “Was there not a Sybil Grey, or some -one of that name?” - -At the mention of Sybil Grey, Wilford looked relieved, and answered her -at once. - -“Yes, there was a Sybil Grey, Mrs. Judge Grandon now, and a dashing -widow. Don’t sigh so wearily,” he continued, as Katy drew a gasping -breath. “Knowing she was a widow I chose you, thus showing which I -preferred. Few men live to be thirty without more or less fancies, which -under some circumstances might ripen into something stronger, and I am -not an exception. I never loved Sybil Grey, nor wished to make her my -wife. I admired her very much. I admire her yet, and among all my -acquaintances there is not one upon whom I would care to have you make -so good an impression as upon her, nor one whose manner you could better -imitate.” - -“Oh, will she call? Shall I see her?” Katy asked, beginning to feel -alarmed at the very thought of Sybil Grey, with all her polish and -manner. - -“She is spending the winter in New Orleans with her late husband’s -relatives. She will not return till spring,” Wilford replied. “But do -not look so distressed, for I tell you solemnly that I never loved -another as I love you. Do you believe me?” - -“Yes,” and Katy’s head drooped upon his shoulder. - -She was satisfied with regard to Sybil Grandon, only hoping she would -not have to meet her when she came home. But the picture. Whose was -that? Not Sybil’s certainly, else Juno would have known. The picture -troubled her, but she dared not speak of it, Wilford had seemed so angry -at Juno. Still she would probe him a little further, and so she -continued, - -“I do believe you, and if I ever see this Sybil I will try to imitate -her; but tell me, if after her, there was among your friends _one_ -better than the rest, one almost as dear as I am, one whom you sometimes -remember even now—is she living, or is she dead?” - -Wilford thought of that humble grave far off in St. Mary’s churchyard, -and he answered quickly, - -“If there ever was such an one, she certainly is _not_ living. Are you -satisfied?” - -Katy answered that she was, but perfect confidence in her husband’s -affection had been terribly shaken, and Katy’s heart was too full to -sleep even after she had retired. Visions of Sybil Grey, blended with -visions of another whom she called the “dead fancy,” flitted before her -mind, as she lay awake, while hour after hour went by, until tired -nature could endure no longer, and just as the great city was waking up -and the rattle of wheels was beginning to be heard upon the pavements, -she fell away to sleep. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV. - EXTRACTS FROM BELL CAMERON’S DIARY. - - - NEW YORK, December. - -After German Philosophy and Hamilton’s Metaphysics, it is a great relief -to have introduced into the family an entirely new element—a character -the dissection of which is at once a novelty and a recreation. It is -absolutely refreshing, and I find myself returning to my books with -increased vigor after an encounter with that unsophisticated, -innocent-minded creature, our sister-in-law Mrs. Wilford Cameron. Such -pictures as Juno and I used to draw of the stately personage who was one -day coming to us as Wilford’s wife, and of whom even mother was to stand -in awe. Alas, how hath our idol fallen! And still I rather like the -little creature, who, the very first night, nearly choked mother to -death, giving her lace streamers a most uncomfortable twitch, and -actually kissing _father_—a thing I have not done since I can remember. -But then the Camerons are all a set of icicles, encased in a -refrigerator at that. If we were not, we should thaw out, when Katy -leans on us so affectionately and looks up at us so wistfully, as if -pleading for our love. Wilford does wonders; he used to be so grave, so -dignified and silent, that I never supposed he would bear having a wife -meet him at the door with cooing and kisses, and climbing into his lap -right before us all. Juno says it makes her sick, while mother is -dreadfully shocked; and even Will sometimes seems annoyed, gently -shoving her aside and telling her he is tired. - -After all, it is a query in my mind whether it is not better to be like -Katy than like Sybil Grandon, about whom Juno was mean enough to tell -her the first day of her arrival. - -“Very pretty, but shockingly insipid,” is Juno’s verdict upon Mrs. -Wilford, while mother says less, but looks a great deal more, especially -when she talks about “my folks,” as she did to Mrs. Gen. Reynolds the -first time she called. Mother and Juno were so annoyed, while Will -looked like a thunder-cloud, when she spoke of Uncle Ephraim saying so -and so. He was better satisfied with Katy in Europe, where he was not -known, than he is here, where he sees her with other people’s eyes. One -of his weaknesses is a too great reverence for the world’s opinion, as -held and expounded by our very fashionable mother, and as in a quiet -kind of way she has arrayed herself against poor Katy, while Juno is -more open in her acts and sayings, I predict that it will not be many -months before he comes to the conclusion that he has made a -_mésalliance_, a thing of which no Cameron was ever guilty. - -I wonder if there is any truth in the rumor that Mrs. Gen. Reynolds once -taught a district school, and if she did, how much would that detract -from the merits of her son, Lieutenant Bob. But what nonsense to be -writing about him. Let me go back to Katy, to whom Mrs. Gen. Reynolds -took at once, laughing merrily at her _naïve_ speeches, as she called -them—speeches which made Will turn black in the face, they betrayed so -much of rustic life and breeding. I fancy that he has given Katy a few -hints, and that she is beginning to be afraid of him, for she watches -him constantly when she is talking, and she does not now slip her hand -into his as she used to when guests are leaving and she stands at his -side; neither is she so demonstrative when he comes up from the office -at night, and there is a look upon her face which was not there when she -came. They are “_toning_ her down,” mother and Juno, and to-morrow they -are actually going to commence a systematic course of training -preparatory to her début into society, said début to occur on the night -of the ——, when Mrs. Gen. Reynolds gives the party talked about so long. -I was present when they met in solemn conclave to talk it over, mother -asking Will if he had any objections to Juno’s instructing his wife with -regard to certain things of which she was ignorant. Will’s forehead knit -itself together at first, and I half hoped he would veto the whole -proceeding, but after a moment he replied, - -“No, provided Katy is willing. Her feelings must not be hurt.” - -“Certainly not,” mother said. “Katy is a dear little creature, and we -all love her very much, but that does not blind us to her deficiencies, -and as we are anxious that she should fill that place in society which -Mrs. Wilford Cameron ought to fill, it seems necessary to tone her down -a little before her first appearance at a party.” - -To this Will assented, and then Juno went on to enumerate her -deficiencies, which, as nearly as I can remember, are these: She laughs -too much and too loud; is too enthusiastic over novelties; has too much -to say about Silverton and “my folks;” quotes Uncle Ephraim and sister -Helen too often, and is even guilty at times of mentioning a certain -Aunt Betsy, who must have floated with the ark, and snuffed the breezes -of Ararat. She does not know how to enter, or cross, or leave a room -properly, or receive an introduction, or, in short, to do anything -according to New York ideas, as understood by the Camerons, and so she -is to be taught—_toned down_, mother called it—dwelling upon her high -spirit as something vulgar, if not absolutely wicked. How father would -have sworn, for he calls her his little sunbeam, and says he never -should have gained so fast if she had not come with her sunny face, and -lively, merry laugh, to cheer his sick room. Katy has a fast friend in -him. But mother and Juno—well, I shall be glad if they do not annihilate -her altogether, and I am surprised that Will allows it. I wonder if Katy -is really happy with us. She says she is, and is evidently delighted -with New York life, clapping her hands when the invitation to Mrs. -Reynolds’s party was received, and running with it to Wilford as soon as -he came home. It is her first big party, she says, she having never -attended any except that little sociable in Boston, and those insipid -school-girl affairs at the seminary. I may be conceited—Juno thinks I -am—but really and truly, Bell Cameron’s private opinion of herself is -that at heart she is better than the rest of her family, and so I pity -this little sister of ours, while at the same time I am exceedingly -anxious to be present whenever Juno takes her in hand, for I like to see -the fun. Were she at all bookish, I should avow myself her champion, and -openly defend her; but she is not, and so I give her into the hands of -the Philistines, hoping they will, at least, spare her hair, and not -worry her life out on that head. It is very becoming to her, and several -young ladies have whispered their intention of trying its effect upon -themselves, so that Katy may yet be a leader of the fashion. - - - - - CHAPTER XV. - TONING DOWN.—BELL’S DIARY CONTINUED. - - -Such fun as it was to see mother and Juno training Katy, showing her how -to enter the parlor, how to arrange her dress, how to carry her hands -and feet, and how to sit in a chair—Juno going through with the -performance first, and then requiring Katy to imitate her. Had I been -Katy I should have rebelled, but she is far too sweet-tempered and -anxious to please, while I suspect that fear of my lord Wilford had -something to do with it, for when the drill was over, she asked so -earnestly if we thought he would be ashamed of her, and there were tears -in her great blue eyes as she said it. Hang Wilford! Hang the whole of -them; I am not sure I shall not yet espouse her cause myself, or else -tell father, who will do it so much better. - -_Dec. —th._—Another drill, with Juno commanding officer, while the poor -little _private_ seemed completely worried out. This time there were -open doors, but so absorbed were mother and Juno as not to hear the -bell, and just as Juno was saying, “Now imagine me Mrs. Gen. Reynolds, -to whom you are being presented,” while Katy was bowing almost to the -floor, who should appear but Mark Ray, stumbling square upon that -ludicrous rehearsal, and, of course, bringing it to an end. No -explanation was made, nor was any needed, for Mark’s face showed that he -understood it, and it was as much as he could do to keep from roaring -with merriment; I am sure he pitied Katy, for his manner towards her was -very affectionate and kind, and when she left the room he complimented -her highly, repeating many things he had heard in her praise from those -who had seen her both in the street and here at home. Juno’s face was -like a thunder-cloud, for she is as much in love with Mark Ray as she -was once with Dr. Grant, and is even jealous of his praise of Katy. Glad -am I that I never yet saw the man who could make me jealous, or for whom -I cared a pin. There’s Bob Reynolds up at West Point. I suppose I do -think his epaulettes very becoming to him, but his hair is too light, -and he cannot raise whiskers big enough to cast a shadow on the wall, -while I know he looks with contempt upon females who write, even though -their writings never see the light of day; thinks them strong-minded, -self-willed, and all that. He is expected to be present at the party, -but I shall not go. I prefer to stay at home and finish that article -entitled, “Women of the Present Century,” suggested to my mind by my -sister Katy, who stands for the picture I am drawing of a pretty woman, -with more heart than brains, contrasting her with such an one as Juno, -her opposite. - -_January 10._—The last time I wrote in my journal was just before the -party, which is over now, the long talked of affair at which Katy was -the reigning belle. I don’t know _how_ it happened, but happen it did, -and Juno’s glory faded before that of her rival, whose ringing laugh -frequently penetrated to every room, and made more than one look up in -some surprise. But when Mrs. Humphreys said, “It’s that charming little -Mrs. Cameron, the prettiest creature I ever saw, her laugh is so -refreshing and genuine,” the point was settled, and Katy was free to -laugh as loudly as she pleased. - -She did look beautifully, in lace and pearls, with her short hair -curling in her neck. She would not allow us to put so much as a bud in -her hair, showing, in this respect, a willfulness we never expected; but -as she was perfectly irresistible, we suffered her to have her way, and -when she was dressed, sent her in to father, who had asked to see her. -And now comes the strangest thing in the world. - -“You are very beautiful, little daughter,” father said, “I almost wish I -was going with you to see the sensation you are sure to create.” - -Then straight into his lap climbed Katy, _father’s_ lap, where none of -us ever sat, I am sure, and began to coax him to go, telling him she -should appear better if he were there, and that she should need him when -Wilford left her, as of course he must a part of the time. And father -actually dressed himself and went. But Katy did not need him after the -people began to understand that Mrs. Wilford Cameron was the rage. Even -Sybil Grey in her palmiest days never received such homage as was paid -to the little Silverton girl, whose great charm was her perfect -enjoyment of everything, and her perfect faith in what people said to -her. Juno was nothing and I worse than nothing, for I _did_ go after -all, wearing a plain black silk, with high neck and long sleeves, -looking, as Juno said, like a Sister of Charity. - -Lieut. Bob was there, his light hair lighter than ever, and his chin as -smooth as my hand. He likes to dance and I do not, but somehow he -persisted in staying where I was, notwithstanding that I said my -sharpest things in hopes to get rid of him. He left me at last to dance -with Katy, who makes up in grace and airiness what she lacks in -knowledge. Once upon the floor she did not lack for partners, but I -verily believe danced every set, growing prettier and fairer as she -danced, for hers is a complexion which does not get red and blowsy with -exercise. - -Mark Ray was there too, and I saw him smile comically when Katy met the -people with that bow she was making at the time he came so suddenly upon -us. Mark is a good fellow, and I really think we have him to thank in a -measure for Katy’s successful début. He was the first to take her from -Wilford, walking with her up and down the hall by way of reassuring her, -and once as they passed me I heard her say, - -“I feel so timid here—so much afraid of doing something wrong—something -countrified.” - -“Never mind,” he answered. “Act yourself just as you would were you at -home in Silverton, where you are known. That is far better than -affecting a manner not natural to you.” - -After that Katy brightened wonderfully. The stiffness which at first was -perceptible passed off, and she was Katy Lennox, queening it over all -the city belles, drawing after her a host of gentlemen, and between the -sets holding a miniature court at one end of the room, where the more -desirable of the guests crowded around, flattering her until her little -head ought to have been turned if it was not. To do her justice she bore -her honors well, and when we were in the carriage and father -complimented her upon her success, she only said, - -“If I pleased you all I am glad.” - -So many calls as we had the next day, and so many invitations as there -are now on our table for Mrs. Wilford Cameron, while our opera box -between the scenes is packed with beaux, until one would suppose Wilford -might be jealous; but Katy takes it so quietly and modestly, seeming -only gratified for his sake, that I really believe he enjoys it more -than she does. At all events he persists in her going even when she -would rather stay at home, so if she is spoiled the fault will rest with -him. - -_February —th._—Poor Katy! Dissipation is beginning to wear upon her, -for she is not accustomed to our late hours, and sometimes falls asleep -while Esther is dressing her. But go she must, for Wilford wills it so, -and she is but an automaton to do his bidding. - -Why can’t mother let her alone, when everybody seems so satisfied with -her? Somehow she does not believe that people are as delighted as they -pretend, and so she keeps training and tormenting her until I do not -wonder that Katy sometimes hates to go out, lest she shall unconsciously -be guilty of an impropriety. I pitied her last night when, after she was -ready for the opera, she came into my room where I was indulging in the -luxury of a loose dressing-gown, with my feet on the sofa. At first I -think she liked Juno best, but latterly she has taken to me, and now -sitting down before the fire into which her blue eyes looked with a -steady stare, she said, - -“I wish I might stay here with you to-night. I have heard this opera -before, and it will be so tiresome. I get so sleepy while they are -singing, for I never care to watch the acting. I did at first when it -was new, but now it seems insipid to see them make believe, while the -theatre is worse yet,” and she gave a weary yawn. - -In less than three months she had exhausted fashionable life, and I -looked at her in astonishment, asking what would please her if the opera -did not. What would she like? - -Turning her eyes full upon me, she exclaimed, - -“I do like it some, I suppose, only I get so tired. I like to ride, I -like to skate, I like to shop, and all that, but oh, you don’t know how -I want to go home to mother and Helen. I have not seen them for so long; -but I am going in the spring—going in May. How many days are there in -March and April? Sixty-one,” she continued; “then I may safely say that -in eighty days I shall see mother, and all the dear old places. It is -not a grand home like this. You, Bell, might laugh at it; Juno would, I -am sure, but you do not know how dear it is to me, or how I long for a -sight of the huckleberry hills and the rocks where Helen and I used to -play.” - -Just then Will called to say the carriage was waiting, and Katy was -driven away, while I sat thinking of her, and the devoted love with -which she clings to her home and friends, wondering if it were the -kindest thing which could have been done, transplanting her to our -atmosphere, so different from her own. - -_March 1st._—As it was in the winter, so it is now; Mrs. Wilford Cameron -is the rage—the bright star of society, which quotes and pets and -flatters, and even laughs at her by turns; and Wilford, though still -watchful, lest she should do something _outré_, is very proud of her, -insisting upon her accepting invitations, sometimes two for one evening, -until the child is absolutely worn out, and said to me once when I told -her how well she was looking and how pretty her dress was, “Yes, pretty -enough, but I am so tired. If I could lie down on mother’s bed, in a -shilling calico, just as I used to do!” - -Mother’s bed seems at present to be the height of her ambition—the thing -she most desires; and as Juno fancies it must be the _feathers_ she is -sighing for, she wickedly suggests that Wilford either buy a feather bed -for his wife, or else send to Aunty Betsy for the one which was to be -Katy’s setting out! They go to housekeeping in May, and on Madison -Square, too. I think Wilford would quite as soon remain with us, for he -does not fancy change; but Katy wants a home of her own, and I never saw -anything more absolutely beautiful than her face when father said to -Wilford that No.—— Madison Square was for sale, advising him to secure -it. But when mother intimated that there was no necessity for the two -families to separate at present—that Katy was too young to have the -charge of a house—there came into her eyes a look of such distress that -it went straight to father’s heart, and calling her to him, he said, - -“Tell me, sunbeam, what is your choice—to stay with us, or have a home -of your own?” - -Katy was very white, and her voice trembled as she replied, - -“You have been kind to me here, and it is very pleasant; but I guess—I -think—I’m sure—I should like the housekeeping best. I am not so young -either. Nineteen in July, and when I go home next month I can learn so -much of Aunt Betsy and Aunt Hannah.” - -Mother looked at Wilford then; but he was looking into the fire with an -expression anything but favorable to that visit home, fixed now for -April instead of May. But Katy has no discernment, and believes she is -actually going to learn how to make apple dumplings and pumpkin pies. In -spite of mother the house is bought, and now she is gone all day -deciding how it shall be furnished, always leaving Katy out of the -question, as if she were a cipher, and only consulting Wilford’s choice. -They will be happier alone, I know. Mrs. Gen. Reynolds says that it is -the way for young people to live; that her son’s wife shall never come -home to her, for of course their habits could not be alike; and then she -looked queerly at me, as if she knew I was thinking of Lieutenant Bob -and who his wife might be. - -Sybil Grandon is coming in April or May, and Mrs. Reynolds wonders -_will_ she flirt as she used to do. Just as if Bob would care for a -widow! There is more danger from Will, who thinks Mrs. Grandon a perfect -paragon, and who is very anxious that Katy may appear well before her, -saying nothing and doing nothing which shall in any way approximate to -Silverton and the _shoes_ which Katy told Esther she used to bind when a -girl. Will need not be disturbed, for Sybil Grandon was never half as -pretty as Katy, or half as much admired. Neither need Mrs. Gen. Reynolds -fret about Bob, as if he would care for her. Sybil Grandon indeed! - - - - - CHAPTER XVI. - KATY. - - -Much which Bell had written of Katy was true. She had been in New York -nearly four months, drinking deep draughts from the cup of folly and -fashion held so constantly to her lips; but she cloyed of it at last, -and what at first had been so eagerly grasped, began, from daily -repetition, to grow insipid and dull. To be the belle of every place, to -know that her dress, her style, and even the fashion of her hair was -copied and admired, was gratifying to her, because she knew it pleased -her husband, who was never happier or prouder than when, with Katy on -his arm, he entered some crowded parlor and heard the buzz of admiration -as it circled round, while Katy smiled and blushed like a little child, -wondering at the attentions lavished upon her, and attributing them -mostly to her husband, whose position she understood, marveling more and -more that he should have chosen her to be his wife. That he had so -honored her made her love him with a strange kind of grateful, clinging -love, which as yet would acknowledge no fault in him, no wrong, no -error; and if ever a shadow did cloud her heart she was the one to -blame, not Wilford; he was right—he had idol she worshiped—he the one -for whose sake she tried to drop her country ways and conform to the -rules his mother and sister taught, submitting with the utmost good -nature to what Bell called the _drill_, but never losing that natural, -playful, airy manner which so charmed the city people and made her the -reigning belle. As Marian Hazelton had predicted, others than her -husband had spoken words of praise in Katy’s ear; but such was her -nature that the shafts of flattery glanced aside, leaving her unharmed, -so that her husband, though sometimes disquieted, had no cause for -jealousy, enjoying Katy’s success far more than she did herself, urging -her out when she would rather have stayed at home, and evincing so much -annoyance if she ventured to remonstrate, that she gave it up at last -and floated on with the tide. - -Mrs. Cameron had at first been greatly shocked at Katy’s want of -propriety, looking on aghast when she wound her arms around Wilford’s -neck, or sat upon his knee; but to the elder Cameron the sight was a -pleasant one, bringing back sunny memories of a summer-time years ago, -when _he_ was young, and a fair bride had for a few brief weeks made -this earth a paradise to him. But fashion had entered his Eden—that -summer time was gone, and only the dun leaves of autumn lay where the -buds which promised so much had been. The girlish bride was a stately -matron now, doing nothing amiss, but making all her acts conform to a -prescribed rule of etiquette, and frowning majestically upon the -frolicsome, impulsive Katy, who had crept so far into the heart of the -eccentric man that he always found the hours of her absence long, -listening intently for the sound of her bounding footsteps, and feeling -that her coming to his household had infused into his veins a better, -healthier life than he had known for years. Katy was very dear to him, -and he felt a thrill of pain when first the _toning down_ process -commenced. He had heard them talk about it, and in his wrath he had -hurled a cut-glass goblet upon the marble hearth, breaking it in atoms, -while he called them a pair of precious fools, and Wilford a bigger one -because he suffered it. So long as his convalescence lasted, he was some -restraint upon his wife, but when he was well enough to resume his -duties in his Wall Street office, there was nothing in the way, and -Katy’s education progressed accordingly. For Wilford’s sake Katy would -do anything, and she submitted to much which would otherwise have been -excessively annoying. But she was growing tired now, and it told upon -her face, which was whiter than when she came to New York, while her -figure was, if possible, slighter and more airy; but this only enhanced -her loveliness, Wilford thought, and so he paid no heed to her -complaints of weariness, but kept her in the circle which welcomed her -so warmly, and would have missed her so much. - -Little by little it had come to Katy that she was not quite as -comfortable in her husband’s family as she would be in a house of her -own. The constant watch kept over her by Mrs. Cameron and Juno irritated -and fretted her, making her wonder what was the matter, and why she -should so often feel lonely and desolate when surrounded by every luxury -which wealth could purchase. “It is _his folks_,” she always said to -herself when cogitating upon the subject. “Alone with Wilford I shall -feel as light and happy as I did in Silverton.” - -And so Katy caught eagerly at the prospect of a release from the -restraint of No.——, seeming so anxious that Wilford, almost before he -was aware of it himself, became the owner of one of the most desirable -situations on Madison Square. Of all the household after Katy, Juno was -perhaps the only one glad of the new house. It would be a change for -herself, for she meant to spend much of her time on Madison Square, -where everything was to be on the most magnificent style. Fortunately -for Katy, she knew nothing of Juno’s intentions and built castles of her -new home, where mother could come with Helen and Dr. Grant. Somehow she -never saw Uncle Ephraim, nor his wife, nor Aunt Betsy there. She knew -how out of place they would appear, and how they would annoy Wilford; -but surely to her mother and Helen there could be no objection, and when -she first went over the house she designated this room as mother’s, and -another one as Helen’s, thinking how each should be fitted up with -direct reference to their tastes, Helen’s containing a great many books, -while her mother’s should have easy-chairs and lounges, with a host of -drawers for holding things. And Wilford heard it all, making no reply, -but considering how he could manage best so as to have no scene, for he -had not the slightest intention of inviting either Mrs. Lennox or Helen -to visit him, much less to become a part of his household. That he did -not marry Katy’s relatives was a fact as fixed as the laws of the Medes -and Persians, and Katy’s anticipations were answering no other purpose -than to divert her mind for the time being, keeping her bright and -cheerful. - -Very pleasant indeed were the pictures Katy drew of the new house where -Helen was to come, but pleasanter far were her pictures of that visit to -Silverton, to occur in April. Poor Katy! how much she thought about that -visit when she should see them all and go with Uncle Ephraim down into -the meadows, making believe she was Katy Lennox still—when she could -climb the ladder in the barn after new-laid eggs, or steal across the -fields to Linwood, talking with Morris as she used to talk in the days -which seemed so long ago. Morris she feared was not liking her as well -as of old, thinking her very frivolous and silly, for he had only -written her one short note in reply to the letter she had sent, telling -him of the parties she had attended, and the gay, happy life she led, -for to him she would not then confess that in her cup of joy there was a -single bitter dreg. All was bright and fair, she said, and Morris had -replied that he was glad, “But do not forget that _death_ can find you -even amid your splendor, or that after death the judgment comes, and -then what shall it profit you if you gain the whole world and lose your -own soul.” - -These words had rung in Katy’s ears for many a day, following her to the -dance and to the opera, where even the music was drowned by the echo of -the words, “lose your own soul.” But the sting grew less and less, till -Katy no longer felt it, and now was only anxious to talk with Morris and -convince him that she was not as thoughtless as he might suppose, that -she still remembered his teachings, and the little church in the valley, -preferring it to the handsome, aristocratic house where she went with -the Camerons once on every Sunday. - -“One more week and then it is April,” she said to Wilford one evening -after they had retired to their room, and she was talking of Silverton. -“I guess we’d better go about the tenth. Shall you stay as long as I -do?” - -Wilford bit his lip, and after a moment replied, - -“I have been talking with mother, and we think April is not a good time -for you to be in the country; it is so wet and cold, and I want you here -to help order our furniture.” - -“Oh, Wilford!” and Katy’s voice trembled, for from past experience she -knew that for Wilford to object to her plans was equivalent to a -refusal, and her heart throbbed with disappointment as she tried to -listen while Wilford urged many reasons why she should not go, -convincing her at last that of all times for visiting Silverton, spring -was the worst; that summer or autumn were better, and that it was her -duty to remain where she was until such time as he saw fit for her to do -otherwise. - -This was the meaning of what he said, and though his manner was guarded, -and his words kind, they were very conclusive, and with one gasping sob -Katy gave up Silverton, charging it more to Mrs. Cameron than to -Wilford, and writing next day to Helen that she could not come just -then, but that after she was settled they might surely expect her. - -With a bitter pang Helen read this letter to the three women who had -anticipated Katy’s visit so much, and each of whom cried quietly over -her disappointment, while Uncle Ephraim went back to his work that -afternoon with a heavy heart, for now his labor was not lightened by -thoughts of Katy’s being there so soon. - -“Please God she may come to us sometime,” he said, pausing beneath the -butternut in the meadow, and remembering just how Katy looked on that -first day of her return from Canandaigua, when she sat on the flat stone -while he piled up his hay and talked with her of different paths through -life, one of which she must surely tread. - -She had said, “I will choose the straight and pleasant,” and some would -think she had; but Uncle Ephraim was not so sure, and leaning against a -tree, he asked silently that whether he ever saw his darling again or -not, God would care for her and keep her unspotted from the world. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII. - THE NEW HOUSE. - - -It was a cruel thing for Wilford Cameron to try to separate Katy from -the hearts which loved her so much; and, as if he felt reproached, there -was an increased tenderness in his manner towards her, particularly as -he saw how sad she was for a few days after his decision. But Katy could -not be sorry long, and in the excitement of settling the new house her -spirits rallied, and her merry laugh trilled like a bird through the -rooms where the workmen were so busy, and where Mrs. Cameron was the -real superintendent, though there was sometimes a show of consulting -Katy, who nevertheless was a mere cipher in the matter. In everything -the mother had her way, until it came to the room designed for Helen, -and which Mrs. Cameron was for converting into a kind of smoking or -lounging room for Wilford and his associates. Katy must not expect him -to be always as devoted to her as he had been during the winter, she -said. He had a great many bachelor friends, and now that he had a house -of his own, it was natural that he should have some place where they -could spend an hour or so with him without the restraint of ladies’ -society, and this was just the room—large, airy, quiet, and so far from -the parlors that the odor of the smoke could not reach them. - -Katy had submitted to much without knowing that she was submitting; but -something Bell had dropped that morning had awakened a suspicion that -possibly she was being ignored, and the wicked part of Helen would have -enjoyed the look in her eye as she said, not to Mrs. Cameron, but to -Wilford, “I have from the very first decided this chamber for Helen, and -I cannot give it up for a smoking room. You never had one at home. Why -did you not, if it is so necessary?” - -Wilford could not tell her that his mother would as soon have brought -into her house one of Barnum’s shows, as to have had a room set apart -for smoking, which she specially disliked; neither could he at once -reply at all, so astonished was he at this sudden flash of spirit. Mrs. -Cameron was the first to rally, and in her usual quiet tone she said, “I -did not know that your sister was to form a part of your household. When -do you expect her?” and her cold gray eyes rested steadily upon Katy, -who never before so fully realized the distance there was between her -husband’s friends and her own. But as the worm will turn when trampled -on, so Katy, though hitherto powerless to defend herself, roused in -Helen’s behalf, and in a tone as quiet and decided as that of her -mother-in-law, replied, “She will come whenever I write for her. It was -arranged from the first. Wasn’t it, Wilford?” and she turned to her -husband, who, unwilling to decide between a wife he loved and a mother -whose judgment he considered infallible, affected not to hear her, and -stole from the room, followed by Mrs. Cameron, so that Katy was left -mistress of the field. - -After that no one interfered in her arrangement of Helen’s room, which, -with far less expense than Mrs. Cameron would have done, she fitted up -so cosily that Wilford pronounced it the pleasantest room in the house, -while Bell went into ecstasies over it, and even Juno might have unbent -enough to praise it, were it not for Mark Ray, who, from being tacitly -claimed by Juno, was frequently admitted to their counsels, and had -asked the privilege of contributing to Helen’s room a handsome volume of -German poetry, such as he fancied she might enjoy. So long as Mark’s -attentions were not bestowed in any other quarter Juno was comparatively -satisfied, but the moment he swerved a hair’s breadth from the line she -had marked out, her anger was aroused; and now, remembering his -commendations of Helen Lennox, she hated her as cordially as one jealous -girl can hate another whom she has not seen, making Katy so -uncomfortable, without knowing what was the matter, that she hailed the -morning of her exit from No.—— as the brightest since her marriage. - -It was a very happy day for Katy, and when she first sat down to dinner -in her own home, her face shone with a joy which even the presence of -her mother-in-law could not materially lessen. She would rather have -been alone with Wilford, it is true, but as her choice was not consulted -she submitted cheerfully, proudly taking her rightful place at the -table, and doing the honors so well that Mrs. Cameron, in speaking of it -to her daughters, acknowledged that Wilford had little to fear if Katy -always appeared as much at ease as she did that day. A thought similar -to this passed through the mind of Wilford, who was very observant of -such matters, and that night, after his mother was gone, he warmly -commended Katy, but spoiled the pleasure his commendations would have -given by telling her next, as if one thought suggested the other, that -Sybil Grandon had returned, that he saw her on Broadway, accepting her -invitation to a seat in her carriage which brought him to his door. She -had made many inquiries concerning Katy, expressing a great curiosity to -see her, and saying that as she drove past the house that morning, she -was strongly tempted to waive all ceremony and run in, knowing she -should be pardoned for the sake of Auld Lang Syne, when she was -privileged to take liberties with the Camerons. All this Wilford -repeated to Katy, but he did not tell her how at the words Auld Lang -Syne, Sybil had turned her fine eyes upon him with an expression which -made him color, for he knew she was referring to the time when her name -and his were always coupled together. - -Katy had dreaded the return of Sybil Grandon, of whom she had heard so -much, and now that she had come, she felt for a moment a terror of -meeting her which she tried to shake off, succeeded at last, for perfect -faith in Wilford was to her a strong shield of defence, and her only -trouble was a fear lest she should fall in the scale of comparison which -might be instituted between herself and Mrs. Grandon, who after a few -days ceased to be a bugbear, Wilford never mentioning her again, and -Katy only hearing of her through Juno and Bell, the first of whom went -into raptures over her, while the latter styled her a silly, coquettish -widow, who would appear much better to have worn her weeds a little -longer, and not throw herself quite so soon into the market. That she -should of course meet her some time, Katy knew, but she would not -distress herself till the time arrived, and so she dismissed her fears, -or rather lost them in the excitement of her new dignity as mistress of -a house. - -In her girlhood Katy had evinced a taste for housekeeping, which now -developed so rapidly that she won the respect of all the servants, from -the man who answered the bell to the accomplished cook, hired by Mrs. -Cameron, and who, like most accomplished cooks, was sharp and cross and -opinionated, but who did not find it easy to scold the blithe little -woman who every morning came flitting into her dominions, not asking -what they would have for dinner, as she had been led to suppose she -would, but _ordering_ it with a matter of course air, which amused the -usually overbearing Mrs. Phillips. But when the little lady, rolling her -sleeves above her dimpled elbows and donning the clean white apron which -Phillips was reserving for afternoon, announced her intention of -surprising Wilford, with a pudding such as Aunt Betsy used to make, -there were signs of rebellion, Phillips telling her bluntly that she -couldn’t be bothered—that it was not a lady’s place in the kitchen under -foot—that the other Mrs. Cameron never did it, and would not like it in -Mrs. Wilford. - -For a moment Katy paused and looked straight at Mrs. Phillips; then -said, quietly, “I have only six eggs here—the recipe is ten. Bring me -four more, please.” - -There was something in the blue eyes which compelled obedience, and the -dessert progressed without another word of remonstrance. But when the -door bell rang, and word came down that there were ladies in the -parlor—Juno, with some one else—Phillips would not tell her of the -_flour_ on her hair; and as Katy, after casting aside her apron and -putting down her sleeves, only glanced hastily at herself in the hall -mirror as she passed it, she appeared in the parlor with this mark upon -her curls, and greatly to her astonishment was presented to “Mrs. Sybil -Grandon,” Juno explaining, that as Sybil was anxious to see her, and -they were passing the house, she had presumed upon her privilege as a -sister and brought her in. - -For a moment the room turned dark, it was so sudden, so unexpected, and -she so unprepared; but Sybil’s familiar manner quieted her, and she was -able at last to look fully at her visitor, finding her _not_ as handsome -as she expected, nor as young, but in all other respects she had not -perhaps been exaggerated. Cultivated and self-possessed, she was very -pleasing in her manner, making Katy feel wholly at ease by a few -well-timed compliments, which had the merit of seeming genuine, so -perfect was she in the art of deception. - -To Katy she was very gracious, admiring her house, admiring herself, -admiring everything, until Katy wondered how she could ever have dreaded -to meet her, laughing and chatting as familiarly as if the fashionable -woman were not criticising every movement, and every act, and every -feature of her face, wondering most at the _flour_ upon her hair! - -Juno wondered, too, but knowing Katy’s domestic propensities, suspected -the truth, and feigning some errand with Phillips, she excused herself -for a moment and descended to the kitchen, where she was not long in -hearing about Katy’s “queer ways, coming where she was not needed, and -making country puddings after some heathenish aunt’s rule.” - -“Was it Aunt Betsy?” Juno asked, her face betokening its disgust when -told that she was right, and her manner on her return to the parlor was -very frigid towards Katy, who had discovered the flour on her hair, and -was laughing merrily over it, telling Sybil how it happened—how cross -Phillips was—and lastly, how “our folks” often made the pudding, and -that was why she wished to surprise Wilford with it. - -There was a sarcastic smile upon Sybil’s lip as she wished Mrs. Cameron -success and then departed, leaving Katy to finish the dessert, which, -when ready for the table, was certainly very inviting, and would have -tempted the appetite of any man who had not been listening to gossip not -wholly conducive to his peace of mind. - -On his way home Wilford had stopped at his fathers, where Juno was -relating the particulars of her call upon his wife, and as she did not -think it necessary to stop for him, he heard of Katy’s misdoings, and -her general appearance in the presence of Sybil Grandon, whom she -entertained with a description of “our folks’” favorite dishes, together -with Aunt Betsy’s recipes. This was the straw too many, and since his -marriage Wilford had not been as angry as he was while listening to -Juno, who reported Sybil’s verdict on his wife, “A domestic little body -and very pretty.” - -Wilford did not care to have his wife domestic; he did not marry her for -that, and in a mood anything but favorable to the light, delicate -dessert Katy had prepared with so much care, he went to his luxurious -home, where Katy ran as usual to meet him, her face brimming with the -surprise she had in store for him, and herself so much excited that she -did not at first observe the cloud upon his brow, as he moodily answered -her rapid questions. When the important moment arrived, and the dessert -was brought on, he promptly declined it, even after her explanation that -she made it herself, urging him to try it for the sake of pleasing her, -if nothing more. But Wilford was not hungry then, and even had he been, -he would have chosen anything before a pudding made from a recipe of -Betsy Barlow, so the dessert was untasted even by Katy herself, who, -knowing now that something had gone wrong, sat fighting back her tears -until the servant left the room, when she timidly asked, “What is it, -Wilford? What makes you seem so——” She would not say _cross_, and so -substituted “queer,” while Wilford plunged at once into the matter by -saying, “Juno tells me she called here this afternoon with Mrs. -Grandon.” - -“Yes, I forgot to mention it,” Katy answered, feeling puzzled to know -why that should annoy her husband; but his next remarks disclosed the -whole, and Katy’s tears flowed fast as Wilford asked what she supposed -Mrs. Grandon thought, to see his wife looking as if fresh from the flour -barrel, and to hear her talk about Aunt Betsy’s recipes and “_our -folks_.” “That is a bad habit of yours, Katy,” he continued, “one of -which I wish you to break yourself, if possible. I have never spoken to -you directly on the subject before, but it annoys me exceedingly, -inasmuch as it is an indication of low breeding.” - -There was no answer from Katy, whose heart was too full to speak, and so -Wilford went on, “Our servants were selected by mother with a direct -reference to your youth and inexperience, and it is not necessary for -you to frequent the kitchen, or, indeed, to go there oftener than once a -week. Let them come to you for orders, not you go to them. Neither need -you speak quite so familiarly to them, treating them almost as if they -were your equals. Try to remember your true position—that whatever you -may have been you are now Mrs. Wilford Cameron, equal to any lady in New -York.” - -They were in the library now, and the soft May breeze came stealing -through the open window, stirring the fleecy curtains and blowing across -the tasteful bouquet which Katy had arranged; but Katy was too wretched -to care for her surroundings. It was the first time Wilford had ever -spoken to her in just this way, and his manner hurt her more than his -words, making her feel as if she were an ignorant, ill-bred creature, -whom he had raised to a position she did not know how to fill. It was -cruel thus to repay her attempts to please, and so, perhaps, Wilford -thought, as with folded arms he sat looking at her weeping so bitterly -upon the sofa; but he was too indignant to make any concession then, and -he suffered her to weep in silence until he remembered that his mother -had requested him to bring her round that evening, as they were -expecting a few of Juno’s friends, and among them Sybil Grandon. If Katy -went he wished her to look her best, and he unbent so far as to try to -check her tears. But Katy could not stop, and she wept so passionately -that Wilford’s anger subsided, leaving only tenderness and pity for the -wife he soothed and caressed, until the sobbing ceased, and Katy lay -passively in his arms, her face so white, and the dark rings about her -eyes showing so distinctly that Wilford did not press her when she -declined his mother’s invitation. He could go, she said, urging so many -reasons why he should that, for the first time since their marriage, he -left her alone, and went where Sybil Grandon smiled her sunniest smile, -and put forth her most persuasive powers to keep him at her side, -expressing so much regret that he did not bring “his charming little -wife, who completely won her heart, she was so child-like and -simple-hearted, laughing so merrily when she discovered the flour on her -hair, but not seeming to mind it in the least. Really, she did not see -how it happened that he was fortunate enough to win such a domestic -treasure. Where did he find her?” - -If Sybil Grandon meant this to be complimentary, it was not received as -such. Wilford, almost grating his teeth with vexation as he listened to -it, and feeling doubly mortified with Katy, whom he found waiting for -him, when at a late hour he left the society of Sybil Grandon and -repaired to his home. - -To Katy the time of his absence had seemed an age, for her thoughts had -been busy with the past, gathering up every incident connected with her -married life since she came to New York, and deducing from them the -conclusion that “Wilford’s folks” were ashamed of her, and that Wilford -himself might perhaps become so if he were not already. That would be -worse than death itself, and the darkest hours she had ever known were -those she spent alone that night, sobbing so violently as to bring on a -racking headache, which showed itself upon her face and touched Wilford -at once. - -Sybil Grandon was forgotten in those moments of contrition, when he -ministered so tenderly to his suffering wife, whom he felt that he had -wronged. But he could not tell her so then. It was not natural for him -to confess his errors. There had always been a struggle between his duty -and his pride when he had done so, and now the latter conquered, -especially as Katy, grown more calm, began to take the censure to -herself, lamenting her short-comings, and promising to do better, even -to the imitating of Sybil Grandon, if that would make him forget the -past and love her as before. - -Wilford could accord forgiveness far more graciously than he could ask -it, and so peace was restored, and Katy’s face next day looked bright -and happy when seen in her new carriage, which took her down Broadway to -Stewart’s, where she encountered Sybil Grandon, and with her Juno -Cameron. - -From the latter Katy instinctively shrank, but she could not resist the -former, who greeted her so familiarly that Katy readily forgave her the -pain of which she had been the cause, and spoke of her to Wilford -without a pang when he came home to dinner. Still she could not overcome -her dread of meeting her, and she grew more and more averse to mingling -in society, where she might do many things to mortify her husband or his -family, and thus provoke a scene she hoped never again to pass through. - -“Oh, if Helen were only here!” she thought, as she began to experience a -sensation of loneliness she had never felt before. - -But Helen was not there, nor coming there at present. One word from -Wilford had settled that, convincing Katy that it was better to wait -until the autumn, inasmuch as they were going so soon to Saratoga and -Newport, places which Katy dreaded, after she knew that Mrs. Cameron and -Juno were to be of the party, and probably Sybil Grandon. Katy did not -dislike the latter, but she was never easy in her presence, while she -could not deny to herself that since Sybil’s return Wilford had not been -quite the same as before. In company he was more attentive than ever, -but at home he was sometimes moody and silent, while Katy strove in vain -to ascertain the cause. - -They were not as happy in the new home as she had expected to be, but -the fault did not lie with Katy. She performed her part and more, taking -upon her young shoulders the whole of the burden which her husband -should have helped her to bear. The easy, indolent life Wilford had led -so long as a petted son of a partial mother unfitted him for care, and -he was as much a boarder in his own home as he had even been in the -hotels in Paris, thoughtlessly requiring of Katy more than he should -have required, so that Bell was not far from right when in her journal -she described her sister-in-law as “a little servant whose feet were -never supposed to be tired, and whose wishes were never consulted.” It -is true Bell had put it rather strongly, but the spirit of what she said -was right, Wilford seldom considering Katy, or allowing her wishes to -interfere with his own plans; while accustomed to every possible -attention from his mother, he exacted the same from his wife, whose life -was not one of unmixed happiness, notwithstanding that every letter home -bore assurances to the contrary. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII. - MARIAN HAZELTON. - - -The last days of June had come, and Wilford was beginning to make -arrangements for removing Katy from the city before the warmer weather. -To this he had been urged by Mark Ray’s remarking that Katy was not -looking as well as when he first saw her, one year ago. “She has grown -thin and pale,” he said. “Had Wilford remarked it?” - -Wilford had not. She complained much of headache, but that was only -natural. Still he wrote to the Mountain House that afternoon to secure -rooms for himself and wife, and then at an earlier hour than usual went -home to tell her of the arrangement. Katy was out shopping, Esther said, -and had not yet returned, adding, - -“There is a note for her up stairs, left by a woman who I guess came for -work.” - -That a woman should come for work was not strange, but that she should -leave a note seemed rather too familiar; and when on going to the -library he saw it upon the table, he took it in his hand and examined -the superscription closely, holding it up to the light and forgetting to -open it in his perplexity and the train of thought it awakened. - -“They are singularly alike,” he said, and still holding the note in his -hand he opened a drawer of his writing desk, which was always kept -locked, and took from it a _picture_ and a bit of soiled paper, on which -was written, “I am _not_ guilty, Wilford, and God will never forgive the -wrong you have done to me.” - -There was no name or date, but Wilford knew whose hand had penned those -lines, and he sat comparing them with the “Mrs. Wilford Cameron” which -the strange woman had written. Then opening the note, he read that, -having returned to New York, and wishing employment either as seamstress -or dressmaker, Marian Hazelton had ventured to call upon Mrs. Cameron, -remembering her promise to give her work if she should desire it. - -“Who is Marian Hazelton?” Wilford asked himself as he threw down the -missive. “Some of Katy’s country friends, I dare say. Seems to me I have -heard that name. She certainly writes as Genevra did, except that this -Hazelton’s is more decided and firm. Poor Genevra!” - -There was a pallor about Wilford’s lips as he said this, and taking up -the picture he gazed for a long time upon the handsome, girlish face, -whose dark eyes seemed to look reproachfully upon him, just as they must -have looked when the words were penned, “God will never forgive the -wrong you have done to me.” - -“Genevra was mistaken,” he said. “At least if God has not forgiven, he -has prospered me, which amounts to the same thing;” and without a single -throb of gratitude to Him who had thus prospered him, Wilford laid -Genevra’s picture and Genevra’s note back with the withered grass and -flowers plucked from Genevra’s grave, just as Katy’s ring was heard and -Katy herself came in. - -As thoughts of Genevra always made Wilford kinder towards his wife, so -now he kissed her white cheek, noticing that, as Mark had said, it was -whiter than last year in June. But mountain air would bring back the -roses, he thought, as he handed her the note. - -“Oh, yes, from Marian Hazelton,” Katy said, glancing first at the name -and then hastily reading it through. - -“Who is Marian Hazelton?” Wilford asked, and Katy replied by repeating -all she knew of Marian, and how she chanced to know her at all. “Don’t -you remember Helen wrote that she fainted at our wedding, and I was so -sorry, fearing I might have overworked her?” - -Wilford did remember something about it, and then dismissing Marian from -his mind, he told Katy of his plan for taking her to the Mountain House -a few weeks before going to Saratoga. - -“Would you not like it?” he asked, as she continued silent, with her -eyes fixed upon the window opposite. - -“Yes,” and Katy drew a long and weary breath. “I shall like any place -where there are birds, and rocks, and trees, and real grass, such as -grows of itself in the country; but Wilford,” and Katy crept close to -him now, “if I might go to Silverton, I should get strong so fast! You -don’t know how I long to see home once more. I dream about it nights and -think about it days, knowing just how pleasant it is there, with the -roses in bloom and the meadows so fresh and green. May I go, Wilford? -May I go home to mother?” - -Had Katy asked for half his fortune, just as she asked to go home, -Wilford would have given it to her; but Silverton had a power to lock -all the softer avenues of his heart, and so he answered that the -Mountain House was preferable, that the rooms were engaged, and that as -he should enjoy it so much better he thought they would make no change. - -Katy did not cry, nor utter a word of remonstrance; she was learning -that quiet submission was better than useless opposition, and so -Silverton was again given up. But there was one consolation. Seeing -Marian Hazelton would be almost as good as going home, for had she not -recently come from that neighborhood, bringing with her the odor from -the hills and freshness from the woods? Perhaps, too, she had lately -seen Helen or Morris at church, and had heard the music of the organ -which Helen played, and the singing of the children just as it sometimes -came to Katy in her dreams, making her start in her sleep and murmur -snatches of the sacred songs which Dr. Morris had taught. Yes, Marian -could tell her of all this, and very impatiently Katy waited for the -morning when she started for No.—— Fourth Street, with the piles of -sewing intended for Marian. - -It was a fault of Marian’s not to remain long contented in any place. -Tiring of the country, she had returned to the city, and thinking she -might succeed better alone, had hired a room far up the narrow stairway -of a high, sombre-looking building, and then from her old acquaintances, -of whom she had several in the city, she had solicited work. More than -once she had passed the handsome house on Madison Square where Katy -lived, walking slowly, and contrasting it with her _one_ room, which was -not wholly uninviting, for where Marian went there was always an air of -comfort; and Katy, as she crossed the threshold, uttered an exclamation -of delight at the cheerful, airy aspect of the apartment, with its -bright ingrain carpet, its simple shades of white, its chintz-covered -lounge, its one rocking-chair, its small parlor stove, and its pots of -flowers upon the broad window sill. - -“Oh Marian,” she exclaimed, tripping across the floor, and impulsively -throwing her arms around Miss Hazelton’s neck, “I am so glad to meet -some one from home. It seems almost like Helen I am kissing,” and her -lips again met those of Marian Hazelton, amid her joy at finding Katy -unchanged, wondered what the Camerons would say to see their Mrs. -Wilford kissing a poor seamstress whom they would have spurned. - -But Katy did not care for _Camerons_ then, or even think of them, as in -her rich basquine and pretty hat, with emeralds and diamonds sparkling -on her fingers, she sat down by Marian. - -“Tell me of Silverton; you don’t know how I want to go there; but -Wilford does not think it best, at present. Next fall I am surely going, -and I picture to myself just how it will look: Morris’s garden, full of -the autumnal flowers—the ripe peaches in our orchard, the grapes -ripening on the wall, and the long shadows on the grass, just as I used -to watch them, wondering what made them move so fast, and where they -could be going. Will it be unchanged, Marian? Do places seem the same -when once we have left them?” and Katy’s eager eyes looked wistfully at -Marian, who replied, “Not always—not often, in fact; but in your case -they may. You have not been long away.” - -“Only a year,” Katy said. “I was as long as that in Canandaigua; but -this past year is different. I have seen so much, and lived so much, -that I feel ten years older than I did last spring, when you and Helen -made my wedding dress. Darling Helen! When did you see her last?” - -“I was there five weeks ago,” Marian replied; “I saw them all, and told -them I was coming to New York.” - -“Do they miss me any? Do they talk of me? Do they wish me back again?” -Katy asked, and Marian replied, “They talked of little else, that is -your own family. Dr. Morris, I think, did not mention your name. He has -grown very silent and reserved,” and Marian’s eyes were fixed -inquiringly upon Katy, as if to ascertain how much she knew of the cause -for Morris’s reserve. - -But Katy had no suspicion, and only replied, “Perhaps he is vexed that I -do not write to him oftener, but I can’t. I think of him a great deal, -and respect him more than any living man, except, of course, Wilford; -but when I try to write, something comes in between me and what I wish -to say, for I want to convince him that I am _not_ as frivolous as he -thinks I am. I have _not_ forgotten the Sunday-school, nor the church -service; but in the city it is so hard to be good, and the service and -music seem all for show, and I feel so hateful when I see Juno and -Wilford’s mother putting their heads down on velvet cushions, knowing as -I do that they both are thinking either of their own bonnets or those -just in front.” - -“Are you not a little uncharitable?” Marian asked, laughing in spite of -herself at the picture Katy drew of fashion trying to imitate religion -in its humility. - -“Perhaps so,” Katy answered. “I grow bad from looking behind the scenes, -and the worst is that I do not care,” and then Katy went back again to -the farm-house asking numberless questions and reaching finally the -_business_ which had brought her to Marian’s room. - -There were spots on Marian’s neck, and her lips were white, as she -grasped the bundles tossed into her lap—the yards and yards of lace and -embroidery, linen, and cambric, which she was expected to make for the -wife of Wilford Cameron; and her voice was husky as she asked directions -or made suggestions of her own. - -“It’s because she has no such joy in expectation. I should feel so, too, -if I were thirty and unmarried,” Katy thought, as she noticed Marian’s -agitation, and tried to divert her mind by talking of Europe and the -places she had visited. - -“By the way, you were born in England? Were you ever at Alnwick?” Katy -asked, and Marian replied, “Once, yes. I’ve seen the castle and the -church. Did you go there—to St. Mary’s, I mean?” - -“Oh, yes, and I was never tired of that old churchyard. Wilford liked -it, too, and we wandered by the hour among the sunken graves and quaint -headstones.” - -“Do you remember any of the names upon the stones? Perhaps I may know -them?” Marian asked; but Katy did not remember any, or if she did, it -was not “Genevra Lambert, aged 22.” And so Marian asked her no more -questions concerning Alnwick, but talked instead of London and other -places, until three hours went by, and down in the street the coachman -chafed and fretted at the long delay, wondering what kept his mistress -in that neighborhood so long. Had she friends, or had she come on some -errand of mercy? The latter most likely, he concluded, and so his face -was not quite so cross when Katy at last appeared, looking at her watch -and exclaiming at the lateness of the hour. - -Katy was very happy that morning, for seeing Marian had brought -Silverton near to her, and airy as a bird she ran up the steps of her -own dwelling, where the door opened as by magic, and Wilford himself -confronted her, asking, with the tone which always made her heart beat, -where she had been, and he waiting for her two whole hours. “Surely it -was not necessary to stop so long with a seamstress,” he continued when -she tried to explain. “Ten minutes would suffice for directions,” and he -could not imagine what attraction there was in Miss Hazelton to keep her -there three hours, and then the real cause of his vexation came out. He -had come expressly for the carriage to take her and Sybil Grandon to a -picnic up the river, whither his mother, Juno and Bell, had already -gone. Mrs. Grandon must wonder why he stayed so long, and perhaps give -up going. Could Katy be ready soon? and Wilford walked rapidly up and -down the parlor with a restless motion of his hands which always -betokened impatience. Poor Katy! how the brightness of the morning -faded, and how averse she felt to joining that picnic, which she knew -had been in prospect for some time, and had fancied she should enjoy! -But not to-day, with that look on Wilford’s face, and the feeling that -he was vexed. Still she could think of no reasonable excuse, and so an -hour later found her driving into the country with Sybil Grandon, who -received her apologies with as much good-natured grace as if she too had -not worked herself into a passion at the delay, for Sybil had been very -cross and impatient; but all this vanished when she met Wilford and saw -that he was disturbed and irritated. Soft, and sweet, and smooth was she -both in word and manner, so that by the time the grove was reached -Wilford’s ruffled spirits had been soothed, and he was himself again, -ready to enjoy the pleasures of the day as keenly as if no harsh word -had been said to Katy, who, silent and unhappy, listened to the graceful -badinage between Sybil and her husband, thinking how differently his -voice had sounded when addressing her only a little while before. - -“Pray put some animation into your face, or Mrs. Grandon will think we -have been quarreling,” Wilford whispered, as he lifted his wife from the -carriage, and with a great effort Katy tried to be gay and natural. - -But all the while she was fighting back her tears and wishing she were -away. Even Marian’s room, looking into the dingy court, was preferable -to that place, and she was glad when the long day came to an end, and -with a fearful headache she was riding back to the city. - -The next morning was dark and rainy; but in spite of the weather Katy -found her way to Marian’s room, this time taking the —— avenue cars, -which left her independent as regarded the length of her stay. About -Marian there was something more congenial than about her city friends, -and day after day found her there, watching while Marian fashioned into -shape the beautiful little garments, the sight of which had a strangely -quieting influence upon Katy, sobering her down and maturing her more -than all the years of her life had done. Those were happy hours spent -with Marian Hazelton, and Katy felt it keenly when Wilford at last -interfered, telling her she was growing quite too familiar with that -sewing woman, and her calls must be discontinued, except, indeed, such -as were necessary to the work in progress. - -With one great gush of tears, when there was no one to see her, Katy -gave Marian up, writing her a note, in which were sundry directions for -the work, which would go on even after she had left for the Mountain -House, as she intended doing the last of June. And Marian guessed at -more than Katy meant she should, and with a bitter sigh laid it in her -basket, and then resumed the work, which seemed doubly monotonous now -that there was no more listening for the little feet tripping up the -stairs, or for the bird-like voice which had brought so much of music -and sunshine to her lonely room. - - - - - CHAPTER XIX. - SARATOGA AND NEWPORT. - - -For three weeks Katy had been at the Mountain House, growing stronger -every day, until she was much like the Katy of one year ago. But their -stay among the Catskills was ended, and on the morrow they were going to -Saratoga, where Mrs. Cameron and her daughters were, and where, too, was -Sybil Grandon, the reigning belle of the United States. So Bell had -written to her brother, bidding him hasten on with Katy, as she wished -to see “that chit of a widow in her proper place.” And Katy had been -weak enough for a moment to feel a throb of satisfaction in knowing how -effectually Sybil’s claims to belle-ship would be put aside when she was -once in the field; even glancing at herself in the mirror as she leaned -on Wilford’s shoulder, and feeling glad that mountain air and mountain -exercise had brought the roses back to her white cheeks and the -brightness to her eyes. But Katy wept passionate tears of repentance for -that weakness, when an hour later she read the letter which Dr. Grant -had sent in answer to one she had written from the Mountain House, -confessing her short-comings, and lamenting that the evils and excesses -which shocked her once did not startle her now. To this letter Morris -had replied as a brother might write to an only sister, first expressing -pleasure at her happiness, and then reminding her of that other life to -which this is only a preparation, and beseeching her so to use the good -things of this world, given her in such profusion, as not to lose the -life eternal. - -This was the substance of Morris’s letter, which Katy read with -streaming eyes, forgetting Saratoga as Morris’s solemn words of warning -and admonition rang in her ears, and shuddering as she thought of losing -the life eternal, of going where Morris would never come, nor any of -those she loved the best, unless it were Wilford, who might reproach her -with having dragged him there when she could have saved him. - -“Keep yourself unspotted from the world,” Morris had said, and she -repeated it to herself, asking “how shall I do that? how can one be good -and fashionable too?” - -Then laying her head upon the rock where she was sitting, Katy tried to -pray as she had not prayed in months, asking that God would teach her -what she ought to know and keep her unspotted from the world. But at the -Mountain House it is easier to pray that one be kept from temptation -than it is at Saratoga, which this summer was crowded to overflowing, -its streets presenting a fitting picture of Vanity Fair, so full were -they of show and gala dress. At the United States, where Mrs. Cameron -stopped, two rooms, for which an enormous price was paid, had been -reserved for Mr. and Mrs. Wilford Cameron, and this of itself would have -given them a certain éclat, even if there had not been present many who -remembered the proud, fastidious bachelor, and were proportionately -anxious to see his wife. _She came, she saw, she conquered_; and within -three days after her arrival Katy Cameron was the acknowledged belle of -Saratoga, from the United States to the Clarendon. And Katy, alas, was -not quite the same as she who on the mountain ridge had sat with -Morris’s letter in her hand, praying that its teachings might not be -forgotten. Saratoga seemed different to her from New York, and she -plunged into its gaieties, never pausing, never tiring, and seldom -giving herself time to think; much less to pray, as Morris had bidden -her do. And Wilford, though hardly able to recognize the usually timid -Katy in the brilliant woman who led rather than followed, was sure of -her faith to him, and so was only proud and gratified to see her bear -off the palm from every competitor, while Juno, though she quarreled -with the shadow into which she was so completely thrown, enjoyed the -éclat cast upon their party by the presence of Mrs. Wilford, who had -passed beyond her criticism. Sybil Grandon, too, stood back in wonder -that a simple country girl should win and wear the laurels she had so -long claimed as her own; but as there was no help for it she contented -herself as best she could with the admiration she did receive, and -whenever opportunity occurred, said bitter things of Mrs. Wilford, whose -parentage and low estate were through her pretty generally known. But it -did not matter there what Katy _had been_; the people took her for what -she _was now_, and Sybil’s glory faded like the early dawn in the coming -of the full day. - -As it had been at Saratoga, so it was at Newport. Urged on by Mrs. -Cameron and Bell, who enjoyed her notoriety, Katy plunged into the mad -excitement of dancing and driving and coqueting, until Wilford himself -became uneasy, locking her once in her room, where she was sleeping -after dinner, and conveniently forgetting to release her until after the -departure at evening of some young men from Cambridge, whose attentions -to the Ocean House belle had been more strongly marked than was -altogether agreeable to him. Of course it was a mistake—the locking of -the door—and a great oversight in him not to have remembered it sooner, -he said to Katy, by way of apology; and Katy, with no suspicion of the -truth, laughed merrily at the joke, repeating it downstairs to the old -dowagers, who shrugged their shoulders meaningly and whispered to each -other that it might be well if more young wives were locked into their -rooms and thus kept out of mischief. - -Though flattered, caressed, and admired, Katy was not doing herself much -credit at Newport; but save Wilford, there was no one to raise a warning -voice, until Mark Ray came down for a few days’ respite from the heated -city, where he had spent the entire summer, taking charge of the -business which belonged as much to Wilford as to himself. But Wilford -had a wife; it was more necessary that he should leave, Mark had argued; -his time would come by and by. And so he had remained at home until the -last of August, when he appeared suddenly at the Ocean House one night -when Katy, in her airy robes and child-like simplicity, was breaking -hearts by the score. Like others, Mark was charmed, and not a little -proud for Katy’s sake, to see her thus appreciated; but when one day’s -experience had shown him more, and given him a look behind the scenes, -he trembled for her, knowing how hard it would be for her to come out of -that sea of dissipation as pure and spotless as she went in. - -“If I were her brother I would warn her that her present career is not -one upon which she will look back with pleasure when the excitement is -over,” he said to himself; “but if Wilford is satisfied it is not for me -to interfere. It is surely nothing to me what Katy Cameron does,” he -kept repeating to himself; but as often as he said it there came up -before him a pale, anxious face, shaded with Helen Lennox’s bands of -hair, and Helen Lennox’s voice whispered to him: “Save Katy, for my -sake,” and so next day, when Mark found himself alone with Katy, while -most of the guests were at the beach, he questioned her of her life at -Saratoga and Newport, and gradually, as he talked, there crept into -Katy’s heart a suspicion that he was not pleased with her account, or -with what he had seen of her since his arrival. - -For a moment Katy was indignant, but when he said to her kindly: “Would -Helen be pleased?” her tears started at once, and she attempted an -excuse for her weak folly, accusing Sybil Grandon as the first cause of -the ambition for which she hated herself. - -“She had been held up as my pattern,” she said, half bitterly, and -forgetting to whom she was talking—“she, the one whom I was to imitate; -and when I found that I could go beyond her, I yielded to the -temptation, and exulted to see how far she was left behind. Besides -that,” she continued, “is it no gratification, think you, to let -Wilford’s proud mother and sister see the poor country girl, whom -ordinarily they would despise, stand where they cannot come, and even -dictate to them if she chooses so to do? I know it is wrong—I know it is -wicked—but I like the excitement, and so long as I am with these people -I shall never be any better. Mark Ray, you don’t know what it is to be -surrounded by a set who care for nothing but fashion and display, and -how they may outdo each other. I hate New York society. There is nothing -there but husks.” - -Katy’s tears had ceased, and on her white face there was a new look of -womanhood, as if in that outburst she had changed, and would never again -be just what she was before. - -“Say,” she continued, “do _you_ like New York society?” - -“Not always—not wholly,” Mark answered; “and still you misjudge it -greatly, for all are not like the people you describe. Your husband’s -family represent one extreme, while there are others equally high in the -social scale who do not make fashion the rule of their lives—sensible, -cultivated, intellectual people, of whose acquaintance one might be -glad—people whom I fancy your sister Helen would enjoy. I have only met -her twice, but my impression is that _she_ would not find New York -distasteful.” - -Mark did not know why he had dragged Helen into that conversation, -unless it were that she seemed very near to him as he talked with Katy, -who replied: - -“Yes, Helen finds good in all. She sees differently from what I do, and -I wish so much that she was here.” - -“Why not send for her?” Mark asked, casting about in his mind whether in -case Helen came, he, too, could tarry for a week and leave that business -in Southbridge, which he must attend to ere returning to the city. - -It would be a study to watch Helen Lennox there at Newport, and in -imagination Mark was already her sworn knight, shielding her from -criticism, and commanding for her respect from those who respected him, -when Katy tore his castle down by answering impulsively: - -“I doubt if Wilford would let me send for her, nor does it matter, as I -shall not remain much longer. I do not need her now, since you have -shown me how foolish I have been. I was angry at first, but now I thank -you for it, and so will Helen. I shall tell her when I am in Silverton. -I am going there from here and oh, I so wish it was to-day.” - -The guests were beginning to return from the beach by this time, and as -Mark had said all he had intended saying, he left Katy with Wilford, who -had just come in and joined a merry party of Bostonians only that day -arrived. That night at the Ocean House the guests missed something from -their festivities; the dance was not so exhilarating or the small-talk -between so lively, while more than one white-kidded dandy swore mentally -at the innocent Wilford, whose wife declined to join in the gayeties, -and in a plain white muslin, with only a pond lily in her hair, kept by -her husband’s side, notwithstanding that he bade her leave him and -accept some of her numerous invitations to join the giddy dance. This -sober phase of Katy did not on the whole please Wilford as much as her -gayer ones had done. All he had ever dreamed of the sensation his bride -would create was more than verified. Katy had fulfilled his highest -expectations, reaching a point from which, as she had said to Mark, she -could dictate to his mother, if she chose, and he did not care to see -her relinquish it. - -But Katy remained true to herself. Dropping her girlish playfulness, she -assumed a quiet, gentle dignity, which became her even better than her -gayer mood had done, making her ten times more popular and more sought -after, until she begged to go away, persuading Wilford at last to name -the day for their departure, and then, never doubting for a moment that -her destination was Silverton, she wrote to Helen that she should be -home on such a day, and as they would come by way of Providence and -Worcester, they would probably reach West Silverton at ten o’clock, A. -M. - -“Wilford,” she added in a postscript, “has gone down to bathe, and as -the mail is just closing, I shall send this letter without his seeing -it. Of course it can make no difference, for I have talked all summer of -coming, and he understands it.” - - - - - CHAPTER XX. - MARK RAY AT SILVERTON. - - -The last day of summer was dying out in a fierce storm of rain which -swept in sheets across the Silverton hills, hiding the pond from view, -and beating against the windows of the farm-house, whose inmates were -nevertheless unmindful of the storm save as they hoped the morrow would -prove bright and fair, such as the day should be which brought them back -their Katy. Nearly worn out with constant reference was her letter, the -mother catching it up from time to time to read the part referring to -herself, where Katy had told how blessed it would be “to rest again on -mother’s bed,” just as she had so often wished to do, “and hear mother’s -voice;” the deacon spelling out by his spluttering tallow candle, with -its long, smoky wick, what she had said of “darling old Uncle Eph,” and -the rides into the fields; Aunt Betsy, too, reading mostly from memory -the words: “Good old Aunt Betsy, with her skirts so limp and short, tell -her she will look handsomer to me than the fairest belle at Newport;” -and as often as Aunt Betsy read it she would ejaculate: “The land! what -kind of company must the child have kept?” wondering next if Helen had -never written of the _hoop_, for which she paid a dollar, and which was -carefully hung in her closet, waiting for the event of to-morrow, while -the hem of her pongee had been let down and one breadth gored to -accommodate the hoop. On the whole, Aunt Betsy expected to make a -stylish appearance before the little lady of whom she stood in awe, -always speaking of her to the neighbors as “My niece, Miss Cammen, from -New York,” and taking good care to report what she had heard of “Miss -Cammen’s” costly dress and the grandeur of her house, where the -furniture of the best chamber cost over fifteen hundred dollars. - -“What could it be?” Aunt Betsy had asked in her simplicity, feeling an -increased respect for Katy, and consenting the more readily to the -change in her pongee, as suggested to her by Helen. - -But that was for to-morrow when Katy came; to-night she only wore a -dotted brown, whose hem just reached the top of her “bootees,” as she -went to strain the milk brought in by Uncle Ephraim, while Helen took -her position near the window, looking drearily out upon the leaden -clouds, and hoping it would brighten before the morrow. Like the others, -Helen had read Katy’s letter many times, dwelling longest upon the part -which said: “I have been so bad, so frivolous and wicked here at -Newport, that it will be a relief to make you my confessor, depending, -as I do, upon your love to grant me absolution.” - -From a family in Silverton, who had spent a few days at a private house -in Newport, Helen had heard something of her sister’s life; the lady had -seen her once driving a tandem team down the avenue, with Wilford at her -side giving her instructions. Since then there had been some anxiety -felt for her at the farm-house, and more than Dr. Grant had prayed that -she might be kept unspotted from the world; but when her letter came, so -full of love and self-reproaches, the burden was lifted, and there was -nothing to mar the anticipations of the event for which they had made so -many preparations, Uncle Ephraim going to the expense of buying at -auction a half-worn covered buggy, which he fancied would suit Katy -better than the corn-colored wagon in which she used to ride. To pay for -this the deacon had parted with the money set aside for the “_great -coat_” he so much needed for the coming winter, his old gray having done -him service for fifteen years. But his comfort was nothing compared with -Katy’s happiness, and so, with his wrinkled face beaming with delight, -he had brought home his buggy, putting it carefully in the barn, and -saying no one should ride in it till Katy came. With untiring patience -the old man mended up his harness, for what he had heard of Katy’s -driving had impressed him strongly with her powers of horsemanship, and -raised her somewhat in his respect. Could he have afforded it Uncle -Ephraim in his younger days would have been a horse jockey, and even now -he liked nothing better than to make Old Whitey run when alone in the -strip of woods between his house and the head of the pond. - -“Katy inherits her love of horses from me,” he said complacently; and -with a view of improving Whitey’s style and mettle, he took to feeding -him on oats, talking to him at times, and telling him who was coming. - -Dear, simple-hearted Uncle Ephraim! the days which he must wait seemed -long to him as they did to the other members of his family. But they -were all gone now,—Katy would be home on the morrow, and with the -shutting in of night the candles were lighted in the sitting-room, and -Helen sat down to her work, wishing it was to-night that Katy was -coming. As if in answer to her wish there was the sound of wheels, which -stopped before the house, and dropping her work Helen ran quickly to the -door, just as from under the dripping umbrella held by a driver boy, a -tall young man sprang upon the step, nearly upsetting her, but passing -an arm around her shoulders in time to keep her from falling. - -“I beg pardon for this assault upon you,” the stranger said; and then -turning to the boy he continued: “It’s all right, you need not wait.” - -With a chirrup and a blow the horse started forward, and the -mud-bespattered vehicle was moving down the road ere Helen had recovered -her surprise at recognizing Mark Ray, who shook the rain-drops from his -hair, and offering her his hand said in reply to her involuntary -exclamation: “I thought it was Katy,” “Shall I infer then that I am the -less welcome?” and his bright, saucy eyes looked laughingly into hers. -Business had brought him to Southbridge, he said, and it was his -intention to take the cars that afternoon for New York, but having been -detained longer than he expected, and not liking the looks of the hotel -arrangements, he had decided to presume upon his acquaintance with Dr. -Grant, and spend the night at Linwood. “But,” and again his eyes looked -straight at Helen, “it rained so hard and the light from your window was -so inviting that I ventured to stop, so here I am, claiming your -hospitality until morning, if convenient; if not, I will find my way to -Linwood.” - -There was something in this pleasant familiarity which won Uncle Ephraim -at once, and he bade the young man stay, as did Aunt Hannah and Mrs. -Lennox, who now for the first time was presented to Mark Ray. Always -capable of adapting himself to the circumstances around him, Mark did so -now with so much ease and courteousness as to astonish Helen, and partly -thaw the reserve she had assumed when she found the visitor was from the -hated city. - -“Are you expecting Mrs. Cameron?” he asked, adding, as Helen explained -that she was coming to-morrow, “That is strange. Wilford wrote decidedly -that he should be in New York to-morrow. Possibly, though, he does not -intend himself to stop.” - -“I presume not,” Helen replied, a weight suddenly lifting from her heart -at the prospect of not having to entertain the formidable brother-in-law -who, if he stayed long, would spoil all her pleasure. - -Thus at her ease on this point, she grew more talkative, half wishing -that her dress was not a shilling-calico, or her hair combed back quite -so straight, giving her that severe look which Morris had said was -unbecoming. It was very smooth and glossy, and Sybil Grandon would have -given her best diamond to have had in her own natural right the heavy -coil of hair bound so many times around the back of Helen’s head, and -ornamented with neither ribbon, comb, nor bow. Only a single geranium -leaf, with a white and scarlet blossom, was fastened just below the ear, -and on the side where Mark could see it best, admiring its effect and -forgetting the arrangement of the hair in his admiration of the -well-shaped head, bending so industriously over the work which Helen had -resumed—not crocheting, nor yet embroidery, but the very homely work of -darning Uncle Ephraim’s socks, a task which Helen always did, and on -that particular night. Helen knew it was not delicate employment, and -there was a moment’s hesitancy as she wondered what Mark would -think—then, with a grim delight in letting him see that she did not -care, she resumed her darning-needle, and as a kind of penance for the -flash of pride in which she had indulged, selected from the basket the -very coarsest, ugliest sock she could find, stretching out the huge -fracture at the heel to its utmost extent, and attacking it with a right -good will, while Mark, with a comical look on his face, sat watching -her. She knew he was looking at her, and her cheeks were growing very -red, while her hatred of him was increasing, when he said, abruptly: -“You follow my mother’s custom, I see. She used to mend my socks on -Tuesday nights.” - -“Your mother mend socks!” and Helen started so suddenly as to run the -point of her darning-needle a long way into her thumb, the wound -bringing a stream of blood which she tried to wipe away with her -handkerchief. - -“Bind it tightly round. Let me show you, please,” Mark said, and ere she -was aware of what she was doing, Helen was quietly permitting the young -man to wind her handkerchief around her thumb which he held in his hand, -pressing it until the blood ceased flowing, and the sharp pain had -abated. - -Perhaps Mark Ray liked holding that small, warm hand, even though it -were not as white and soft as Juno’s; at all events he did hold it until -Helen drew it from him with a quick, sudden motion, telling him it would -do very well, and she would not trouble him. Mark did not look as if he -had been troubled, but went back to his seat and took up the -conversation just where the needle had stopped it. - -“My mother did not always mend herself, but she caused it to be done, -and sometimes helped. I remember she used to say a woman should know how -to do everything pertaining to a household, and she carried out her -theory in the education of my sister.” - -“Have you a sister?” Helen asked, now really interested, and listening -intently while Mark told her of his only sister Julia, now Mrs. Ernst, -whose home was in New Orleans, though she at present was in Paris, and -his mother was there with her. “After Julia’s marriage, nine years ago, -mother went to live with her,” he said, “but latterly, as the little -Ernsts increase so fast, she wishes for a more quiet home, and this -winter she is coming to New York to keep house for me.” - -Helen thought she might like Mark’s mother, who, he told her, had been -twice married, and was now Mrs. Banker, and a widow. She must be -different from Mrs. Cameron; and Helen let herself down to another -degree of toleration for the man whose mother taught her daughter to -mend the family socks. Still there was about her a reserve, which Mark -wondered at, for it was not thus that ladies were accustomed to receive -his advances. He did not guess that Wilford Cameron stood between him -and Helen’s good opinion; but when, after the family came in, the -conversation turned upon Katy and her life in New York, the secret came -out in the sharp, caustic manner with which she spoke of New York and -its people. - -“It’s Will and the Camerons,” Mark thought, blaming Helen less than he -would have done, if he, too, had not known something of the Cameron -pride. - -It was a novel position in which Mark found himself that night, an -inmate of a humble farm-house, where he could almost touch the ceiling -with his hand, and where his surroundings were so different from what he -had been accustomed to; but, unlike Wilford Cameron, he did not wish -himself away, nor feel indignant at Aunt Betsy’s old-fashioned ways, or -Uncle Ephraim’s grammar. He noticed Aunt Betsy’s oddities, it is true, -and noticed Uncle Ephraim’s grammar; but the sight of Helen sitting -there, with so much dignity and self-respect, made him look beyond all -else, straight into her open face and clear brown eyes, where there was -nothing obnoxious or distasteful. Her language was correct, her manner, -saving a little stiffness, lady-like and refined: and Mark enjoyed his -situation as self-invited guest, making himself so agreeable that Uncle -Ephraim forgot his hour of retiring, nor discovered his mistake until, -with a loud yawn, Aunt Betsy told him that it was half-past nine, and -she was “desput sleepy.” - -Owing to Helen’s influence there had been a change of the olden custom, -and instead of the long chapter, through which Uncle Ephraim used to -plod so wearily, there were now read the Evening Psalms. Aunt Betsy -herself joined in the reading, which she mentally classed with the -“quirks,” but confessed to herself that it “was most as good as the -Bible.” - -As there were only Prayer Books enough for the family, Helen, in -distributing them, purposely passed Mark by, thinking he might not care -to join them. But when the verse came round to Helen he quickly drew his -chair near to hers, and taking one side of her book, performed his part, -while Helen’s face grew red as the blossoms in her hair, and her hand, -so near to Mark’s, trembled visibly. - -“A right nice chap, and not an atom stuck up,” was Aunt Betsy’s mental -comment, and then, as he often will do, Satan followed the saintly woman -even to her knees, making her wonder if “Mr. Ray hadn’t some notion -after Helen.” She hoped not, for she meant that Morris should have -Helen, “though if ’twas to be it was, and she should not go agin it;” -and while Aunt Betsy thus settled the case, Uncle Ephraim’s prayer -ended, and the conscience-smitten woman arose from her knees with the -conviction that “the evil one had got the better of her once,” mentally -asking pardon for her wandering thoughts and promising to do better. - -Mark was in no haste to retire, and when Uncle Ephraim offered to -conduct him to his room, he frankly answered that he was not sleepy, -adding, as he turned to Helen: “Please let me stay until Miss Lennox -finishes her socks. There are several pairs yet undarned. I will not -detain you, though,” he continued, bowing to Uncle Ephraim, who, a -little uncertain what to do, finally departed, as did Aunt Hannah and -his sister, leaving Helen and her mother to entertain Mark Ray. It had -been Mrs. Lennox’s first intention to retire also, but a look from Helen -kept her, and she sat down by that basket of socks, while Mark wished -her away. Awhile they talked of Katy and New York, Mark laboring to -convince Helen that its people were not all heartless and fickle, and at -last citing his mother as an instance. - -“You would like mother, Miss Lennox. I hope you will know her some -time,” he said, and then they talked of books, Helen forgetting that -Mark was city-bred in the interest with which she listened to him, while -Mark forgot that the girl who appreciated and understood his views -almost before they were expressed, was country born, and clad in homely -garb, with no ornaments save those of her fine mind and the sparkling -face turned so fully towards him. - -“Mark Ray is not like Wilford Cameron,” Helen said to herself, when as -the clock was striking eleven she bade him good night and went up to her -room, and opening her window she leaned her hot cheek against the wet -casement, and looked out upon the night, now so beautiful and clear, for -the rain was over, and up in the heavens the bright stars were shining, -each one bearing some resemblance to Mark’s eyes as they kindled and -grew bright with his excitement, resting always kindly on her—on Helen, -who leaning thus from the window, felt stealing over her that feeling -which, once born, can never be quite forgotten. - -Helen did not recognize the feeling, for it was a strange one to her. -She was only conscious of a sensation half pleasurable, half sad, of -which Mark Ray had been the cause, and which she tried in vain to put -aside. And then there swept over her a feeling of desolation such as she -had never experienced before, a shrinking from living all her life in -Silverton, as she fully expected to do, and laying her head upon the -little stand, she cried passionately. - -“This is weak, this is folly,” she suddenly exclaimed, as she became -conscious of acting as Helen Lennox was not wont to act, and with a -strong effort she dried her tears and crept quietly to bed just as Mark -was falling into his first sleep and dreaming of smothering. - -Helen would not have acknowledged it, and yet it was a truth not to be -denied, that she stayed next morning a much longer time than usual -before her glass, arranging her hair, which was worn more becomingly -than on the previous night, and which softened the somewhat too -intellectual expression of her face, and made her seem more womanly and -modest. Once she thought to wear the light buff gown in which she looked -so well, but the thought was repudiated as soon as formed, and donning -the same dark calico she would have worn if Mark had not been there, she -finished her simple toilet and went down stairs, just as Mark came in at -the side door, his hands full of water lilies, and his boots bearing -marks of what he had been through to get them. - -“Early country air is healthful,” he said, “and as I do not often have a -chance to try it, I thought I would improve the present opportunity. So -I have been down by the pond, and spying these lilies I persevered until -I reached them, in spite of mud and mire. There is no blossom I like so -well. Were I a young girl I would always wear one in my hair, as your -sister did one night at Newport, and I never saw her look better. Just -let me try the effect on you;” and selecting a half-opened bud, Mark -placed it among Helen’s braids as skillfully as if hair-dressing were -one of his accomplishments. “The effect is good,” he continued, turning -her blushing face to the glass and asking if it were not. - -“Yes,” Helen stammered, seeing more the saucy eyes looking over her head -than the lily in her hair. “Yes, good enough, but hardly in keeping with -this old dress,” and vanity whispered the wish that the _buff_ had -really been worn. - -“Your dress is suitable for morning, I am sure,” Mark replied, turning a -little more to the right the lily, and noticing as he did so how very -white and pretty was the neck and throat seen above the collar. - -Mark liked a pretty neck, and he was glad to know that Helen had one, -though why he should care was a puzzle. He could hardly have analyzed -his feelings then, or told what he did think of Helen. He only knew that -by her efforts to repel him she attracted him the more, she was so -different from any young ladies he had known—so different from Juno, -into whose hair he had never twined a water lily. It would not become -her as it did Helen, he thought, as he sat opposite her at the table, -admiring his handiwork, which even Aunt Betsy observed, remarking that -“Helen was mightily spruced up for morning,” a compliment which Helen -acknowledged with a painful blush, while Mark began a disquisition upon -the nature of lilies generally, which lasted until breakfast was ended. - -It was arranged that Mark should ride to the cars with Uncle Ephraim -when he went for Katy, and as this gave him a good two hours of leisure, -he spoke of Dr. Grant, asking Helen if she did not suppose he would call -round. Helen thought it possible, and then remembering how many things -were to be done that morning, she excused herself from the parlor, and -repairing to the platform out by the back door, where it was shady and -cool, she tied on a broad check apron, and rolling her sleeves above her -elbows, was just bringing the churn-dasher to bear vigorously upon the -thick cream she was turning into butter, when, having finished his -cigar, Mark went out into the yard, and following the winding path came -suddenly upon her. Helen’s first impulse was to stop, but with a strong -nerving of herself she kept on while Mark, coming as near as he dared, -said to her: “Why do you do that? Is there no one else?” - -“No,” Helen answered; “that is, we keep no servant, and my young arms -are stronger than the others.” - -“And _mine_ are stronger still,” Mark laughingly rejoined, as he put -Helen aside and plied the dasher himself, in spite of her protestations -that he would certainly ruin his clothes. - -“Tie that apron round me, then,” he said, with the utmost nonchalance, -and Helen obeyed, tying her check apron around the young man’s neck, who -felt her hands as they touched his hair, and knew that they were -brushing queer fancies into his brain—fancies which made him wonder what -his mother would think of Helen, or what she would say if she knew just -how he was occupied that morning, absolutely churning cream until it -turned to butter, for Mark persisted until the task was done, standing -by while Helen gathered up the golden lumps, and admiring her plump, -round arms quite as much as he had her neck. - -She would be a belle like her sister, though of a different stamp, he -thought, as he again bent down his head while she removed the apron and -disclosed more than one big spot upon his broadcloth. Mark assured her -that it did not matter; his coat was nearly worn out, and any way he -never should regret that he had _churned_ once in his life, or forget it -either; and then he asked if Helen would be in New York the coming -winter, talking of the pleasure it would be to meet her there, until -Helen began to feel what she never before had felt, a desire to visit -Katy in her own home. - -“Remember if you come that I am your debtor for numerous hospitalities,” -he said, when he at last bade her good-bye and sprang into the covered -buggy, which Uncle Ephraim had brought out in honor of Katy’s arrival. - - * * * * * - -Old Whitey was hitched at a safe distance from all possible harm. Uncle -Ephraim had returned from the store near by, laden with the six pounds -of crush sugar and the two pounds of real old Java he had been -commissioned to purchase with a view to Katy’s taste, and now upon the -platform at West Silverton his stood, with Mark Ray, waiting for the -arrival of the train just appearing in view across the level plain. - -“It’s fifteen months since she went away,” he said, and Mark saw that -the old man’s form trembled with the excitement of meeting her again, -while his eyes scanned eagerly every window and door of the cars now -slowly stopping before him. “There, there!” and he laid his hand -nervously on Mark’s shoulder, as a white, jaunty feather appeared in -view; but that was not Katy, and the dim eyes ran again along the whole -line of the cars, from which so many were alighting. - -But Katy did not come, and with a long breath of wonder and -disappointment the deacon said: “Can it be she is asleep? Young man, you -are spryer than I. Go through the cars and find her.” - -Mark knew there was plenty of time, and so he made the tour of the cars, -but found, alas, no Katy. - -“She’s not there,” was the report carried to the poor old man, who -tremblingly repeated the words: “Not there, not come!” while over his -aged face there broke a look of touching sadness, which Mark never -forgot, remembering it always just as he remembered the big tear drops -which from his seat by the window he saw the old man wipe away with his -coat-sleeve, as whispering softly to Whitey of his disappointment he -unhitched the horse and drove away alone. - -“Maybe she’s writ. I’ll go and see,” he said, and driving to their -regular office he found a letter directed by Wilford Cameron, but -written by Katy; but he could not read it then, and thrusting it into -his pocket he went slowly back to the home where the tempting dinner was -prepared and the family waiting so eagerly for him. Even before he -reached them they knew of the disappointment, for from the garret window -Helen had watched the road by which he would come, and when the buggy -appeared in sight she saw he was alone. - -There was a mistake; Katy had missed the train, she said to her mother -and aunts, who hoped she might be right. But Katy had not missed the -train, as was indicated by the letter which Uncle Ephraim without a word -put into Helen’s hand, leaning on old Whitey’s neck while she read aloud -the attempt at an explanation which Katy had hurriedly written, a stain -on the paper where a tear had fallen, attesting her distress at the -bitter disappointment. - -“Wilford did not know of the other letter,” she said, “and had made -arrangements for her to go back with him to New York, inasmuch as the -house was already opened and the servants there wanting a _head_; -besides that, Wilford had been absent so long that he could not possibly -stop at Silverton himself, and as he would not think of living without -her, even for a few days, there was no alternative but for her to go -with him on the boat directly to New York. I am sorry, oh, so sorry, but -indeed I am not to blame,” she added in conclusion, and this was the -nearest approach there was to an admission that anybody was to blame for -this disappointment which cut so cruelly, making Uncle Ephraim cry, as -out in the barn he hung away the mended harness and covered the new -buggy, which had been bought for naught. - -“I might have had the overcoat, for Katy will never come home again, -never. God grant that it’s the Cameron pride, not hers that kept her -from us,” the old man said, as on the hay he knelt down and prayed that -Katy had not learned to despise the home where she was so beloved. - -“Katy will never come to us again,” seemed the prevailing opinion at -Silverton, where more than Uncle Ephraim felt a chilling doubt at times -as to whether she really wished to come or not. If she did, it seemed -easy of accomplishment to those who knew not how perfect and complete -were the fetters thrown around her, and how unbending the will which -governed hers. Could they have seen the look in Katy’s face when she -first understood that she was not going to Silverton, their hearts would -have bled for the thwarted creature who fled up the stairs to her own -room, where Esther found her twenty minutes later, cold and fainting -upon the bed, her face as white as ashes, and her hands clenched so -tightly that the nails left marks upon the palms. - -“It was not strange that the poor child should faint—indeed, it was only -natural that nature should give way after so many weeks of gayety, and -she very far from being strong,” Mrs. Cameron said to Wilford, who was -beginning to repent of his decision, and who but for that remark perhaps -might have revoked it. - -Indeed, he made an attempt to do so when, as consciousness came back, -Katy lay so pale and still before him; but Katy did not understand him, -or guess that he wished her to meet him more than half the way, and so -the verdict was unchanged, and in a kind of bewilderment, Katy wrote the -hurried letter, feeling less actual pain than did its readers, for the -disappointment had stunned her for a time, and all she could remember of -the passage home on that same night when Mark Ray sat with Helen in the -sitting-room at Silverton, was that there was a fearful storm of rain -mingled with lightning flashes and thunder peals, which terrified the -other ladies, but brought to her no other sensation save that it would -not be so very hard to perish in the dark waters dashing so madly about -the vessel’s side. - - - - - CHAPTER XXI. - A NEW LIFE. - - - New York, December 16, 18—. - - ‘TO MISS HELEN LENNOX, SILVERTON, MASS: - - “Your sister is very ill. Come as soon as possible. - - W. CAMERON.” - -This was the purport of a telegram received at the farm-house toward the -close of a chill December day, and Helen’s heart almost stopped its -beating as she read it aloud, and then looked in the white, scared faces -of those around her. Katy was very ill—dying, perhaps—or Wilford had -never telegraphed. What could it be? What was the matter? Had it been -somewhat later, they would have known; but now all was conjecture, and -in a half-distracted state, Helen made her hasty preparations for the -journey of the morrow, and then sent for Morris, hoping he might offer -some advice or suggestion, for her to carry to that sick room in New -York. - -“Perhaps you will go with me,” Helen said. “You know Katy’s -constitution. You might save her life.” - -But Morris shook his head. If he was needed they might send and he would -come, but not without; and so next day he carried Helen to the cars, -saying to her as they were waiting for the train, “I hope for the best, -but it may be Katy will die. If you think so, tell her, oh, tell her, of -the better world, and ask if she is prepared? I cannot lose her in -Heaven.” - -And this was all the message Morris sent, though his heart and prayers -went after the rapid train which bore Helen safely onward, until -Hartford was reached, where there was a long detention, so that the dark -wintry night had closed over the city ere Helen reached it, timid, -anxious, and wondering what she should do if Wilford was not there to -meet her. “He will be, of course,” she kept repeating to herself, -looking around in dismay, as passenger after passenger left, seeking in -stages and street cars a swifter passage to their homes. - -“I shall soon be all alone,” she said, feeling some relief as the car in -which she was seated began at last to move, and she knew she was being -taken whither the others had gone, wherever that might be. - -“Is Miss Helen Lennox here?” sounded cheerily in her ears as she stopped -before the depot, and Helen uttered a cry of joy, for she recognized the -voice of Mark Ray, who was soon grasping her hand, and trying to -reassure her, as he saw how she shrank from the noise and clamor of New -York, heard now for the first time. “Our carriage is here,” he said, and -in a moment she found herself in a close-covered vehicle, with Mark -sitting opposite, tucking the warm blanket around her, asking if she -were cold, and paying those numberless little attentions so gratifying -to one always accustomed to act and think for herself. - -Helen could not see Mark’s face distinctly; but full of fear for Katy, -she fancied there was a sad tone in his voice, as if he were keeping -back something he dreaded to tell her; and then, as it suddenly occurred -to her that Wilford should have met her, not Mark, her great fear found -utterance in words, and leaning forward so that her face almost touched -Mark’s she said, “Tell me, Mr. Ray, is Katy dead?” - -“Not dead, oh no, nor very dangerous, my mother hopes; but she kept -asking for you, and so my—that is, Mr. Cameron sent the telegram.” - -There was an ejaculatory prayer of thankfulness, and then Helen -continued, “Is it long since she was taken sick?” - -“Her little daughter will be a week old to-morrow,” Mark replied; while -Helen, with an exclamation of surprise she could not repress, sank back -into the corner, faint and giddy with the excitement of this fact, which -invested little Katy with a new dignity, and drew her so much nearer to -the sister who could scarcely wait for the carriage to stop, so anxious -was she to be where Katy was, to kiss her dear face once more, and -whisper the words of love she knew she must have longed to hear. - -Awe-struck, bewildered and half terrified, Helen looked up at the huge -brown structure, which Mark designated as “the place.” It was so lofty, -so grand, so like the Camerons, and so unlike the farm-house far away, -that Helen trembled as she followed Mark into the rooms flooded with -light, and seeming to her like fairy land. They were so different from -anything she had imagined, so much handsomer than even Katy’s -descriptions had implied, that for the moment the sight took her breath -away, and she sank passively into the chair Mark brought for her, -himself taking her muff and tippet, and noting, as he did so, that they -were not mink, nor yet Russian sable, but well-worn, well-kept fitch, -such as Juno would laugh at and criticise. But Helen’s dress was a -matter of small moment to Mark, and he thought more of the look in her -dark eyes than of all the furs in Broadway, as she said to him, “You are -very kind, Mr. Ray. I cannot thank you enough.” This remark had been -wrung from Helen by the feeling of homesickness which swept over her, as -she thought how really alone she should be there, in her sister’s house, -on this first night of her arrival, if it were not for Mark, thus -virtually taking the place of the brother-in-law, who should have been -there to greet her. - -“He was with Mrs. Cameron,” the servant said, and taking out a card Mark -wrote down a few words, and handing it to the servant who had been -looking curiously at Helen, he continued standing until a step was heard -on the stairs and Wilford came quietly in. - -It was not a very loving meeting, but Helen was civil and Wilford was -polite offering her his hand and asking some questions about her -journey. - -“I was intending to meet you myself,” he said, “but Mrs. Cameron does -not like me to leave her, and Mark kindly offered to take the trouble -off my hands.” - -He was looking pale and anxious, while there was on his face the light -of a new joy, as if the little life begun so short a time ago had -brought an added good to him, softening his haughty manner and making -him even endurable to the prejudiced sister watching him so closely. - -“Does Phillips know you are here?” he asked, answering his own query by -ringing the bell and bidding Esther, who appeared, tell Phillips that -Miss Lennox had arrived, and wished for supper, explaining to Helen that -since Katy’s illness they had dined at three, as that accommodated them -the best. - -This done and Helen’s baggage ordered to her room, he seemed to think he -had discharged his duty as host, and as Mark had left he began to grow -fidgety, for a tête-à-tête with Helen was not what he desired. He had -said to her all he could think to say, for it never once occurred to him -to inquire after the deacon’s family. He had asked for Dr. Grant, but -his solicitude went no further, and the inmates of the farm-house might -have been dead and buried for aught he knew to the contrary. The -omission was not made purposely, but because he really did not feel -enough of interest in people so widely different from himself even to -ask for them, much less to suspect how Helen’s blood boiled as she -detected the omission and imputed it to intended slight, feeling glad -when he excused himself, saying he must go back to Katy, but would send -his mother down to see her. _His mother._ Then _she_ was there, the one -whom Helen dreaded most of all, whom she had invested with every -possible terror, hoping now that she would not be in haste to come down. -She might have spared herself anxiety on this point, as the lady in -question was not anxious to meet a person who, could she have had her -way, would not have been there at all. - -From the first moment of consciousness after the long hours of suffering -Katy had asked for Helen, rather than her mother. - -“Send for Helen; I am so tired, and she could always rest me,” was her -reply, when asked by Wilford what he could do for her. “Send for Helen; -I want her so much,” she had said to Mrs. Cameron, when she came, -repeating the wish until a consultation was held between the mother and -son, touching the propriety of sending for Helen. “She would be of no -use whatever, and might excite our Katy. Quiet is highly important just -now,” Mrs. Cameron had said, thus veiling under pretended concern for -Katy her aversion to the girl whose independence in declining her -dressmaker had never been forgiven, and whom she had set down in her -mind as rude and ignorant. - -“If her coming would do Katy harm she ought not to come,” Wilford -thought, while Katy in her darkened room moaned on— - -“Send for sister Helen; please send for sister Helen.” - -At last, on the fourth day, Mrs. Banker, Mark Ray’s mother, came to the -house, and in consideration of the strong liking she had evinced for -Katy ever since her arrival in New York, and the great respect felt for -her by Mrs. Cameron, she was admitted to the chamber and heard the -plaintive pleadings, “Send for sister Helen,” until her motherly heart -was touched, and as she sat with her son at dinner she spoke of the -young girl-mother moaning so for Helen. - -Whether it was Mark’s great pity for Katy, or whether he was prompted by -some more selfish motive, we do not profess to say, but that he was -greatly excited was very evident from his manner as he exclaimed: - -“Why not send for Helen, then? She is a splendid girl, and they idolize -each other. Talk of _her_ injuring Katy, that’s all a humbug. She is -just fitted for a nurse. Almost the sight of her would cure one of -nervousness, she is so calm and quiet.” - -This was what Mark said, and the next morning Mrs. Banker’s carriage -stood at the door of No.—— Madison Square, while Mrs. Banker herself was -talking to Wilford in the library, and urging that Helen be sent for at -once. - -“It may save her life. She is more feverish to-day than yesterday, and -this constant asking for her sister will wear her out so fast,” she -added, and that last argument prevailed. - -Helen was sent for, and now sat waiting in the parlor for the coming of -Mrs. Cameron. Wilford did not mean Katy to hear him as he whispered to -his mother that Helen was below; but she did, and her blue eyes flashed -brightly as she started from her pillow, exclaiming: - -“I am so glad, so glad! Kiss me, Wilford, because I am so glad. Does she -know? Have you told her? Wasn’t she surprised, and will she come up -quick?” - -They could not quiet her at once, and only the assurance that unless she -were more composed, Helen should not see her that night, had any effect -upon her; but when they told her that, she lay back upon her pillow -submissively, and Wilford saw the great tears dropping from her hot -cheeks, while the pallid lips kept softly whispering “Helen.” Then the -sister love took another channel, and she said: - -“She has not been to supper, and Phillips is always cross at extras. -Will somebody see to it. Send Esther to me, please. Esther knows and is -good-natured.” - -“Mother will do all that is necessary. She is going down,” Wilford said; -but Katy had quite as much fear of leaving Helen to “mother” as to -Phillips, and insisted upon Esther until the latter came, receiving -numerous injunctions as to the jam, the sweetmeats, the peaches, and the -cold ham Helen must have, each one being remembered as her favorite. - -Wholly unselfish, Katy thought nothing of herself or the effort it cost -her to care for Helen; but when it was over and Esther was gone, she -seemed so utterly exhausted that Mrs. Cameron did not leave her, but -stayed at her bedside, until the extreme paleness was gone, and her eyes -were more natural. Meanwhile the supper, which as Katy feared had made -Phillips cross, had been arranged by Esther, who conducted Helen to the -dining-room, herself standing by and waiting upon her because the one -whose duty it was had gone out for the evening, and Phillips had -declined the “honor,” as she styled it. - -There was a homesick feeling tugging at Helen’s heart while she tried to -eat, and only the certainty that Katy was not far away kept her tears -back. To her the very grandeur of the house made it desolate, and she -was so glad it was Katy who lived there and not herself as she went up -the soft carpeted stairway, which gave back no sound, and through the -marble hall to the parlor, where, by the table on which her cloak and -furs were lying, a lady stood, as dignified and unconscious as if she -had not been inspecting the self-same _fur_ which Mark Ray had observed, -but not, like him, thinking it did not matter, for it did matter very -materially with her, and a smile of contempt had curled her lip as she -turned over the tippet which Phillips would not have worn. - -“I wonder how long she means to stay, and if Wilford will have to take -her out,” she was thinking, just as Helen appeared in the door and -advanced into the room. - -By herself, it was easy to slight Helen Lennox, but in her presence Mrs. -Cameron found it very hard to appear as cold and distant as she had -meant to do, for there was something about Helen which commanded her -respect, and she went forward to meet her, offering her hand and saying -cordially: - -“Miss Lennox, I presume—my daughter Katy’s sister?” - -Helen had not expected this, and the warm flush which came to her cheeks -made her very handsome, as she returned Mrs. Cameron’s greeting, and -then asked more particularly for Katy than she had yet done. For a while -they talked together, Mrs. Cameron noting carefully every item of -Helen’s attire, as well as the purity of her language and her perfect -repose of manner after the first stiffness had passed away. - -“Naturally a lady as well as Katy; there must be good blood somewhere, -probably on the Lennox side,” was Mrs. Cameron’s private opinion, while -Helen, after a few moments, began to feel far more at ease with Mrs. -Cameron than she had done in the dining-room with Esther waiting on her, -and the cross Phillips stalking once through the room for no ostensible -purpose except to get a sight of her. - -Helen wondered at herself, and Mrs. Cameron wondered too, trying to -decide whether it were ignorance, conceit, obtuseness, or what, which -made her so self-possessed when she was expected to appear so different. - -“Strong-minded,” was her final decision, as she said at last, “We -promised Katy she should see you to-night. Will you go now?” - -Then the color left Helen’s face and lips and her limbs shook -perceptibly, for the knowing she was soon to meet her sister unnerved -her; but by the time the door of Katy’s room was reached she was herself -again, and there was no need for Mrs. Cameron to whisper, “Pray do not -excite her.” - -Katy heard her coming, and it required all Wilford’s and the nurse’s -efforts to keep her quiet. - -“Helen, Helen, darling, darling sister!” she cried, as she wound her -arms around Helen’s neck, and laid her golden head on Helen’s bosom, -sobbing in a low, mournful way which told Helen more how she had been -longed for than did the weak voice which whispered, “I’ve wanted you so -much, oh Helen; you don’t know how much I’ve missed you all the years -I’ve been away. You will not leave me now,” and Katy clung closer to the -dear sister who gently unclasped the clinging arms and put back upon the -pillow the quivering face, which she kissed so tenderly, whispering in -her own old half soothing, half commanding way, “Be quiet now, Katy. -It’s best that you should. No, I will not leave you.” - -Next to Dr. Grant Helen had more influence over Katy than any living -being, and it was very apparent now, for, as if her presence had a power -to soothe, Katy grew very quiet, and utterly wearied out, slept for a -few moments with Helen’s hand fast locked in hers. When she awoke the -tired look was gone, and turning to her sister she said, “Have you seen -my baby?” while the young mother-love which broke so beautifully over -her pale face, made it the face of an angel. - -“It seems so funny that it is Katy’s baby,” Helen said, taking the puny -little thing, which with its wrinkled face and red, clinched fists was -not very attractive to her, save as she looked at it with Katy’s eyes. - -She did not even kiss it, but her tears dropped upon its head as she -thought how short the time since up in the old garret at home she had -dressed rag dolls for the Katy who was now a mother. And still in a -measure she was the same, hugging Helen fondly when she said good night, -and welcoming her so joyfully in the morning when she came again, -telling her how just the sight of her sitting there by baby’s crib did -her so much good. - -“I shall get well so fast,” she said; and she was right, for Helen was -worth far more to her than all the physician’s powders, and Wilford was -glad that Helen came, even if she did sometimes shock him with her -independent ways, upsetting all his plans and theories with regard to -Katy, and meeting him on other grounds with an opposition as puzzling as -it was new to him. - -To Mrs. Cameron Helen was a study; she seemed to care so little for what -others might think of her, evincing no hesitation, no timidity, when -told the second day after her arrival that Mrs. Banker was in the -parlor, and had asked to see Miss Lennox. Mrs. Cameron did not suspect -how under that calm, unmoved exterior, Helen was hiding a heart which -beat painfully as she went down to meet the mother of Mark Ray, going -first to her own room to make some little change in her toilet, and -wishing that her dress was more like the dress of those around her—like -Mrs. Cameron’s, or even _Esther’s_ and the fashionable nurse’s. One -glance she gave to the brown silk, Wilford’s gift, but her good sense -told her that the plain merino she wore was more suitable to the sick -room where she spent her time, and so with a fresh collar and cuffs, and -another brush of her hair, she went to Mrs. Banker, forgetting herself -in her pleasure at finding in the stranger a lady so wholly congenial -and familiar, whose mild, dark eyes rested so kindly on her, and whose -pleasant voice had something motherly in its tone, putting her at her -ease, and making her appear at her very best. - -Mrs. Banker was pleased with Helen, and she felt a kind of pity for the -young girl thrown so suddenly among strangers, without even her sister -to assist her. - -“Have you been out at all?” she asked, and upon Helen’s replying that -she had not, she answered, “That is not right. Accustomed to the fresh -country air, you will suffer from too close confinement. Suppose you -ride with me. My carriage is at the door, and I have a few hours’ -leisure. Tell your sister I insist,” she continued, as Helen hesitated -between inclination and what she fancied was her duty. - -To see New York with Mrs. Banker was a treat indeed, and Helen’s heart -bounded high as she ran up to Katy’s room with the request. - -“Yes, go by all means,” Katy said. “It is so kind in Mrs. Banker, and so -like her, too. I meant that Wilford should have driven with you to-day, -and spoke to him about it, but Mrs. Banker will do better. Tell her I -thank her so much for her thoughtfulness,” and with a kiss Katy sent -Helen away, while Mrs. Cameron, after twisting her rings nervously for a -moment, said to Katy: - -“Perhaps your sister will do well to wear your furs. Hers are small, and -common fitch.” - -“Yes, certainly. Take them to her,” Katy answered, knowing intuitively -the feeling which had prompted this suggestion from her mother-in-law, -who hastened to Helen’s room with the rich sable she was to wear in -place of the old fitch. - -Helen appreciated the difference at once between her furs and Katy’s and -felt a pang of mortification as she saw how old and poor and _dowdy_ -hers were beside the others. But they were her own—the best she could -afford. She would not begin by borrowing, and so she declined the offer, -and greatly to Mrs. Cameron’s horror went down to Mrs. Banker clad in -the despised furs, which Mrs. Cameron would on no account have had -beside her on Broadway in an open carriage. Mrs. Banker noticed them, -too, but the eager, happy face, which grew each moment brighter as they -drove down the street, more than made amends; and in watching that and -pointing out the places which they passed, Mrs. Banker forgot the furs -and the coarse straw hat whose strings of black had undeniably been -dyed. Never in her life had Helen enjoyed a ride as she did that -pleasant winter day, when her kind friend took her wherever she wished -to go, showing her Broadway in its glory from Union Square to Wall -Street, where they encountered Mark in the bustling crowd. He saw them, -and beckoned to them, while Helen’s face grew red, as, lifting his hat -to her, he came up to the carriage, and at his mother’s suggestion took -a seat just opposite, asking where they had been, and jocosely laughing -at his mother’s taste in selecting such localities as the Five Points, -the Tombs and Barnum’s Museum, when there were so many finer places to -be seen. - -Helen felt the hot blood pricking the roots of her hair for the Five -Points, the Tombs and Barnum’s Museum had been her choice as the points -of which she had heard the most. So when Mark continued: - -“You shall ride with me, Miss Lennox, and I will show you something -worth your seeing,” she frankly answered: - -“Your mother is not in fault, Mr. Ray. She asked me where I wished to -go, and I mentioned these places; so please attribute it wholly to my -country breeding, and not to your mother’s lack of taste.” - -There was something in the frank speech which won Mrs. Banker’s heart, -while she felt an increased respect for the young girl, who, she saw, -was keenly sensitive, even with all her strength of character. - -“You were right to commence as you have,” she said, “for now you have a -still greater treat in store, and Mark shall drive you to the Park some -day. I know you will like that.” - -Helen could like anything with that friendly voice to reassure her, and -leaning back she was thinking how pleasant it was to be in New York, how -different from what she had expected, when a bow from Mark made her look -up in time to see that they were meeting a carriage, in which sat -Wilford, with two gayly dressed ladies, both of whom gave her a -supercilious stare as they passed by, while the younger of the two half -turned her head, as if for a more prolonged gaze. - -“Mrs. Grandon and Juno Cameron,” Mrs. Banker said, making some further -remark to her son, while Helen felt that the brightness of the day had -changed, for she could not be unconscious of the look with which she had -been regarded by these two fashionable ladies, and again her _furs_ came -up before her, bringing a felling of which she was ashamed, especially -as she had fancied herself above all weakness of the kind. - -That night at the dinner, from which Mrs. Cameron was absent, Wilford -was unusually gracious, asking “if she had enjoyed her ride, and if she -did not find Mrs. Banker a very pleasant acquaintance.” - -Wilford felt a little uncomfortable at having suffered a stranger to do -for Katy’s sister what should have been done by himself. Katy had asked -him to drive with Helen, but he had found it very convenient to forget -it, and take a seat instead with Juno and Mrs. Grandon, the latter of -whom complimented “Miss Lennox’s fine intellectual face,” after they had -passed, and complimented it the more as she saw how it vexed Juno, who -could see nothing “in those bold eyes and that masculine forehead,” just -because their _vis-à-vis_ chanced to be Mark Ray. Juno was not pleased -with Helen’s first appearance in the street, but nevertheless she called -upon her next day, with Sybil Grandon and her sister Bell. To this she -was urged by Sybil, who, having a somewhat larger experience of human -nature, foresaw that Helen would be popular just because Mrs. Banker had -taken her up, and who, besides, had conceived a capricious fancy to -patronize Miss Lennox. But in this she was foiled, for Helen was not to -_be_ patronized, and she received her visitors with that calm, assured -manner so much a part of herself. - -“Diamond cut diamond,” Bell thought, as she saw how frigidly polite both -Juno and Helen were, each recognizing in the other something -antagonistic, which could not harmonize. - -Had Juno never cared for Dr. Grant, or suspected Helen of standing -between herself and him, and had Mark Ray never stopped at Silverton, or -been seen on Broadway with her, she might have judged her differently, -for there was something attractive in Helen’s face and appearance as she -sat talking to her guests, with as much quiet dignity as if she had -never mended Uncle Ephraim’s socks or made a pound of butter among the -huckleberry hills. Bell was delighted, detecting at once traces of the -rare mind which Helen Lennox possessed, and wondering to find it so. - -“I hope we shall see each other often,” she said, at parting. “I do not -go out a great deal myself—that is, not so much as Juno—but I shall be -always glad to welcome you to my _den_. You may find something there to -interest you.” - -This was Bell’s leave-taking, while Sybil’s was, if possible, more -friendly, for she took a perverse kind of pleasure in annoying Juno, who -wondered “what she or Bell could see to like in that awkward country -girl, who she knew had on one of Katy’s cast-off collars, and whose -wardrobe was the most ordinary she ever saw; _fitch furs_, think of -that!” and Juno gave a little pull at the fastenings of her rich ermine -collar, showing so well over her velvet basquine. - -“Fitch furs or not, they rode with Mark Ray on Broadway,” Bell retorted, -with a wicked look in her eye, which roused Juno to a still higher pitch -of anger, so that by the time the carriage stopped at No.——, the young -lady was in a most unamiable frame of mind as regarded both Helen Lennox -and the offending Mark. - -That evening there was at Mrs. Reynolds’s a little company of thirty or -more, and as Mark was present, Juno seized the opportunity of -ascertaining, if possible, his real opinion of Helen Lennox, joking him -first about his having taken her to ride so soon, and insinuating that -he must have a _penchant_ for every new and pretty face. - -“Then you think her pretty? You have called on her?” Mark replied, his -manner evincing so much pleasure that Juno bit her lip to keep down her -wrath, and flashing upon him her scornful eyes, replied: “Yes, Sybil and -Bell insisted that I should. Of myself I would never have done it, for I -have now more acquaintances than I can attend to, and do not care to -increase the list. Besides that, I do not imagine that Miss Lennox can -in any way add to my happiness, brought up as she has been among the -woods and hills, you know.” - -“Yes, I have been there—to her home, I mean,” Mark rejoined, and Juno -continued: - -“Only for a moment, though. You should have stayed, like Will, to -appreciate it fully. I wish you could hear him describe the feather beds -on which he slept—that is, describe them before he decided to take Katy; -for after that he was chary of his remarks, and the feathers by some -marvelous process were changed into hair, for what he knew or cared.” - -Mark hesitated a moment, and then said, quietly: - -“I have stayed there all night, and have tested that feather bed, but -found nothing disparaging to Helen, who was as much a lady in the -farm-house as here in the city.” - -There was a look of withering scorn on Juno’s face as she replied, - -“Pray, how long since you took to visiting Silverton so -frequently—becoming so familiar as to spend the night?” - -There was no mistaking the jealousy which betrayed itself in every tone -of Juno’s voice as she stood before Mark, a fit picture of the enraged -goddess whose name she bore. Soon recollecting herself, however, she -changed her mode of attack, and said, laughingly, - -“Seriously, though, this Miss Lennox seems a very nice girl, and is -admirably fitted, I think, for the position she is to fill—that of a -_country physician’s wife_,” and in the black eyes there was a wicked -sparkle as Juno saw that her meaning was readily understood, Mark -looking quickly at her, and asking if she referred to Dr. Grant. - -“Certainly; I imagine that was settled as long ago as we met him in -Paris. Once I thought it might have been our Katy, but was mistaken. I -think the doctor and Miss Lennox well adapted to each other.” - -There was for a moment a dull, heavy pain at Mark’s heart, caused by -that little item of information which made him so uncomfortable. On the -whole he did not doubt it, for everything he could recall of Morris had -a tendency to strengthen the belief. Nothing could be more probable, -thrown together as they had been, without other congenial society, and -nothing could be more suitable. - -“They _are_ well matched,” Mark thought, as he walked listlessly through -Mrs. Reynolds’s parlors, seeing only one face, and _that_ the face of -Helen Lennox, with the lily in her hair, just as it looked when she tied -the apron about his neck and laughed at his appearance. - -Helen was not the ideal which in his boyhood Mark had cherished of the -one who was to be his wife, for that was of a woman more like Juno, with -whom he had always been on the best of terms, giving her some reason for -believing herself the favored one; but ideals change as years go on, and -Helen Lennox had more attractions for him now than the most dashing -belle of his acquaintance. - -“I do not believe I am in love with her,” he said to himself when, after -his return from Mrs. Reynolds’s he sat for a long time before the fire -in his dressing-room, cogitating upon what he had heard, and wondering -why it should affect him so much. “Of course I am not,” he continued, -feeling the necessity of reiterating the assertion by way of making -himself believe it. “She is not at all what I used to imagine the future -Mrs. Mark Ray to be. Half my friends would say she had no style, no -beauty, and perhaps she has not. Certainly she does not look just like -the ladies at Mrs. Reynolds’s to-night, but give her the same advantages -and she would surpass them all.” - -And then Mark Ray went off into a reverie, in which he saw Helen Lennox -his wife, and with the aids by which he would surround her, rapidly -developing into as splendid a woman as little Katy Cameron, who did not -need to be developed, but took all hearts at once by that natural, -witching grace so much a part of herself. It was a very pleasant picture -which Mark painted upon the mental canvas; but there came a great blur -blotting out its brightness as he remembered Dr. Grant. - -“But it shall not interfere with my being just as kind to her as before. -She will need some attendant here, and Wilford will be glad to shove her -off his hands. He is so infernal proud,” Mark said, and taking a fresh -cigar he finished his reverie with the magnanimous resolve that were -Helen a hundred times engaged she should be his especial care during her -sojourn in New York. - - - - - CHAPTER XXII. - HELEN IN SOCIETY. - - -It was three days before Christmas, and Katy was talking confidentially -to Mrs. Banker, whom she had asked to see the next time she called. - -“I want so much to surprise her,” she said, speaking in a whisper, “and -you have been so kind to us both that I thought it might not trouble you -very much if I asked you to make the selection for me, and see to the -engraving. Wilford gave me fifty dollars, all I needed, as I had fifty -more of my own, and now that I have a baby, I am sure I shall never -again care to go out.” - -“Yes,” Mrs. Banker said, thoughtfully, as she rolled up the bills, “you -wish me to get as heavy bracelets as I can find—for the hundred -dollars.” - -“Yes,” Katy replied, “I think that will please her, don’t you?” - -Mrs. Banker did not reply at once, for she felt certain that the hundred -dollars could be spent in a manner more satisfactory to Helen. Still she -hardly liked to interfere, until Katy, observing her hesitancy, asked -again if she did not think Helen would be pleased. - -“Yes, pleased with anything you choose to give her, but—excuse me, dear -Mrs. Cameron, if I speak as openly as if I were the mother of you both. -Bracelets are suitable for you who have everything else, but is there -not something your sister needs more? Now, allowing me to suggest, I -should say, buy her some _furs_, and let the bracelets go. In Silverton -her furs were well enough, but here, as the sister of Mrs. Wilford -Cameron, she is deserving of better.” - -Katy understood Mrs. Banker at once, her cheeks reddening as there -flashed upon her the reason _why_ Wilford had never yet been in the -street with Helen, notwithstanding that she had more than once requested -it. - -“You are right,” she said. “It was thoughtless in me not to think of -this myself. Helen shall have the furs, and whatever else is necessary. -I am so glad you reminded me of it. You are as kind as my own mother,” -and Katy kissed her friend fondly as she bade her good-bye, charging her -a dozen times not to let Helen know the surprise in store for her. - -There was little need of this caution, for Mrs. Banker understood human -nature too well to divulge a matter which might wound one as sensitive -as Helen. Between the latter and herself there was a strong bond of -friendship, and to the kind patronage of this lady Helen owed most of -the attentions she had as yet received from her sister’s friends, while -Mark Ray did much toward lifting her to the place she held in spite of -the common country dress, which Juno unsparingly criticised, and which, -in fact, kept Wilford from taking her out as his wife so often asked him -to do. And Helen, too, keenly felt the difference between herself and -those with whom she came in contact, crying over it more than once, but -never dreaming of the surprise in store for her, when on Christmas -morning she went as usual to Katy’s room, finding her alone, her face -all aglow with excitement, and her bed a perfect show-case of dry goods, -which she bade Helen examine and say how she liked them. - -Wilford was no niggard with his money, and when Katy had asked for more -it had been given unsparingly, even though he knew the purpose to which -it was to be applied. - -“Oh, Katy, Katy, why did you do it?” Helen cried, her tears falling like -rain through the fingers she clasped over her eyes. - -“You are not angry?” Katy said, in some dismay, as Helen continued to -sob without looking at the handsome furs, the stylish hat, the pretty -cloak, and rich patterns of blue and black silk, which Mrs. Banker had -selected. - -“No, oh no!” Helen replied. “I know it was all meant well; but there is -something in me which rebels against taking this from Wilford, and -placing myself under so great obligation to him.” - -“It was a pleasure for him to do it,” Katy said, trying to reassure her -sister, until she grew calm enough to examine and admire the Christmas -gifts upon which no expense had been spared. Much as we may ignore -dress, and sinful as is an inordinate love for it, there is yet about it -an influence for good, when the heart of the wearer is right, holding it -subservient to all higher, holier affections. At least Helen Lennox -found it so, when clad in her new garments, she drove with Mrs. Banker, -or returned Sybil Grandon’s call, feeling that there was about her -nothing for which Katy need to blush, or even Wilford, who was not -afraid to be seen with her now, and Helen, while knowing the reason of -the change, did not feel like quarreling with him for it, but accepted -with a good-natured grace all that made her life in New York so happy. -With Bell Cameron she was on the best of terms; while Sybil Grandon, -always going with the tide, professed for her an admiration, which, -whether fancied or real, did much toward making her popular; and when, -as the mistress of her brother’s house, she issued cards of invitation -for a large party, she took especial pains to insist upon Helen’s -attending, even if Katy was not able. But from this Helen shrank. She -could not meet so many strangers alone, she said, and so the matter was -dropped, until Mrs. Banker offered to chaperone her, when Helen began to -waver, changing her mind at last and promising to go. - -Never since the days of _her_ first party had Katy been so wild with -excitement as she was in helping to dress Helen, who scarcely knew -herself when, before the mirror, with the blaze of the chandelier -falling upon her, she saw the picture of a young girl arrayed in rich -pink silk, with an overskirt of lace, and the light pretty cloak, just -thrown upon her uncovered neck, where Katy’s pearls were shining. - -“What would they say at home if they could only see you?” Katy -exclaimed, throwing back the handsome cloak so as to show more of the -well-shaped neck, gleaming so white beneath it. - -“Aunt Betsy would say I had forgotten half my dress,” Helen replied, -blushing as she glanced at the arms, which never since her childhood had -been thus exposed to view, except at such times as her household duties -had required it. - -Even this exception would not apply to the low neck, at which Helen had -long demurred, yielding finally to Katy’s entreaties, but often -wondering what Mark Ray would think, and if he would not be shocked. -Mark Ray had been strangely blended with all Helen’s thoughts as she -submitted herself to Esther’s practiced hands, and when the -hair-dresser, summoned to her aid, asked what flowers she would wear, it -was a thought of him which led her to select a single water lily, which -looked as natural as if its bed had really been the bosom of Fairy Pond. - -“Nothing else? Surely mademoiselle will have these few green leaves?” -Celine had said, but Helen would have nothing save the lily, which was -twined tastefully amid the heavy braids of the brown hair, whose length -and luxuriance had thrown the hair-dresser into ecstasies of delight, -and made Esther lament that in these days of false tresses no one would -give Miss Lennox credit for what was wholly her own. - -“You will be the belle of the evening,” Katy said as she kissed her -sister good night and then ran back to her baby, while Wilford, yielding -to her importunities that he should not remain with her, followed Mrs. -Banker’s carriage in his own private conveyance, and was soon set down -at Sybil Grandon’s door. - -Meanwhile, at the elder Cameron’s there had been a discussion touching -the propriety of their taking Helen under their protection, instead of -leaving her for Mrs. Banker to chaperone, Bell insisting that it ought -to be done, while the father swore roundly at Juno, who would not “be -bothered with that country girl.” - -“You would rather leave her wholly to Mark Ray and his mother, I -suppose,” Bell said, adding, as she saw the flush on Juno’s face, “You -know you are dying of jealousy, and nothing annoys you so much as to -hear people talk of Mark’s attentions to _Miss Lennox_.” - -“Do they talk?” Mrs. Cameron asked quickly, while in her gray eyes there -gleamed a light far more dangerous and threatening to Helen than Juno’s -open scorn. - -Mrs. Cameron had long intended Mark Ray for her daughter, and accustomed -to have everything bend to her wishes, she had come to consider the -matter as certain, even though he had never proposed in words. He had -done everything else, she thought, attending Juno constantly, and -frequenting their house so much that it was a standing joke for his -friends to seek him there when he was not at home or at his office. -Latterly, however, there had been a change, and the ambitious mother -could not deny that since Helen’s arrival in New York Mark had visited -them less frequently and stayed a shorter time, while she had more than -once heard of him at her son’s in company with Helen. Very rapidly a -train of thought passed through her mind; but it did not manifest itself -upon her face, which was composed and quiet as she decided with Juno -that Helen should not trouble them. With the utmost care Juno arrayed -herself for the party, thinking with a great deal of complacency how -impossible it was for Helen Lennox to compete with her in point of -dress. - -“She is such a prude, I dare say she will go in that blue silk, with the -long sleeves and high neck, looking like a Dutch doll,” she said to -Bell, as she shook back the folds of her rich crimson, and turned her -head to see the effect of her wide braids of hair. - -“I am not certain that a high dress is worse than bones,” Bell retorted, -playfully touching Juno’s neck, which, though white and gracefully -formed, was shockingly guiltless of flesh. - -There was an angry reply, and then, wrapping her cloak about her, Juno -went out to their carriage, and was ere long one of the gay crowd -thronging Sybil Grandon’s parlors. Helen had not yet arrived, and Juno -was hoping she would not come, when there was a stir at the door and -Mrs. Banker appeared, and with her Helen Lennox, but so transformed that -Juno hardly knew her, looking twice ere sure that the beautiful young -lady, so wholly self-possessed, was the country girl she affected to -despise. - -“Who is she?” was asked by many, who at once acknowledged her claims to -their attention, and as soon as practicable sought her acquaintance, so -that Helen suddenly found herself the centre of a little court of which -she was the queen and Mark her sworn knight. - -Presuming upon his mother’s chaperonage, he claimed the right of -attending her, and Juno’s glory waned as effectually as it had done when -Katy was the leading star to which New York paid homage. - -Juno had been annoyed then, but now fierce jealousy took possession of -her heart as she watched the girl whom all seemed to admire, even -Wilford feeling a thrill of pride that the possession of so attractive a -sister-in-law reflected credit upon himself. - -He was not ashamed of her now, nor did he retain a single thought of the -farm-house or Uncle Ephraim as he made his way to her side, standing -protectingly at her left, just as Mark was standing at her right, and at -last asking her to dance. - -With a heightened color Helen declined, saying frankly, - -“I have never learned.” - -“You miss a great deal,” Wilford rejoined, appealing to Mark for a -confirmation of his words. - -But Mark did not heartily respond. He, too, had solicited Helen as a -partner when the dancing first commenced, and her quiet refusal had -disappointed him a little, for Mark was fond of dancing, and though as a -general thing he disapproved of waltzes and polkas when he was the -looker-on, he felt that there would be something vastly agreeable and -exhilarating in clasping Helen in his arms and whirling her about the -room just as Juno was being whirled by a young cadet, a friend of -Lieutenant Bob’s. But when he reflected that not his arm alone would -encircle her waist, or his breath touch her neck, he was glad she did -not dance, and professing a weariness he did not feel, he declined to -join the dancers on the floor, but kept with Helen, enjoying what she -enjoyed, and putting her so perfectly at her ease that no one would ever -have dreamed of the curdy cheeses she had made, or the pounds of butter -she had churned. But Mark thought of it as he secretly admired the neck -and arms, seen once before, on that memorable day when he assisted Helen -in the labors of the dairy. If nothing else had done so, the lily in her -hair would have brought that morning to his mind, and once as they -walked up and down the hall he spoke of the ornament she had chosen, and -how well it became her. - -“Pond lilies are my pets,” he said, “and I have kept one of those I -gathered when at Silverton. Do you remember them?” and his eyes rested -upon Helen with a look which made her blush as she answered yes; but she -did not tell him of a little box at home, made of cones and acorns, -where was hidden a withered water lily, which she could not throw away, -even after its beauty and fragrance had departed. - -Had she told him this, it might have put to flight the doubts troubling -Mark so much, and making him wonder if Dr. Grant had really a claim upon -the girl stealing his heart so fast. - -“I mean to sound her,” he thought, and as Lieutenant Bob passed by, -making some jocose remark about his offending all the fair ones by the -course he was taking, Mark said to Helen, who suggested returning to the -parlor, - -“As you like, though it cannot matter; a person known to be engaged is -above Bob Reynolds’s jokes.” - -Quiet as thought the blood stained Helen’s face and neck, for Mark had -made a most egregious blunder giving her the impression that _he_ was -the engaged one referred to, not herself, and for a moment she forgot -the gay scene around her in the sharpness of the pang with which she -recognized all that Mark Ray was to her. - -“It was kind in him to warn me. I wish it had been sooner,” she thought, -and then with a bitter feeling of shame she wondered how much he had -guessed of her real feelings, and who the betrothed one was. “Not Juno -Cameron,” she hoped, as after a few moments Mrs. Cameron came up and, -adroitly detaching Mark from her side, took his place while he sauntered -to a group of ladies and was ere long dancing merrily with Juno. - -“They are a well-matched pair,” Mrs. Cameron said, assuming a very -confidential manner towards Helen, who assented to the remark, while the -lady continued, “There is but one thing wrong about Mark Ray. He is a -most unscrupulous flirt, pleased with every new face, and this of course -annoys _Juno_.” - -“Are they engaged?” came involuntarily from Helen’s lips, while Mrs. -Cameron’s foot beat the carpet with a very becoming hesitancy, as she -replied, “That was settled in our family a long time ago. Wilford and -Mark have always been like brothers.” - -Mrs. Cameron could not quite bring herself to a deliberate falsehood, -which, if detected, would reflect upon her character as a lady, but she -could mislead Helen, and she continued, “It is not like us to bruit our -affairs abroad, and were my daughters ten times engaged the world would -be none the wiser. I doubt if even Katy suspects what I have admitted; -but knowing how fascinating Mark can be, and that just at present he -seems to be pleased with you, I have acted as I should wish a friend to -act toward my own child. I have warned you in time. Were it not that you -are one of _our family_, I might not have interfered, and I trust you -not to repeat even to Katy what I have said.” - -Helen nodded assent, while in her heart was a wild tumult of -feelings—flattered pride, disappointment, indignation, and mortification -all struggling for the mastery—mortification to feel that she who had -quietly ignored such a passion as love when connected with herself, had, -nevertheless, been pleased with the attentions of one who was only -amusing himself with her, as a child amuses itself with some new toy -soon to be thrown aside—indignation at him for vexing Juno at her -expense—disappointment that he should care for such as Juno, and -flattered pride that Mrs. Cameron should include her in “our family.” -Helen had as few weak points as most young ladies, but she was not free -from them all, and the fact that Mrs. Cameron had taken her into a -confidence which even Katy did not share, was soothing to her ruffled -spirits, particularly as after that confidence, Mrs. Cameron was -excessively gracious to her, introducing her to many whom she did not -know before, and paying her numberless little attentions, which made -Juno stare, while the clear-seeing Bell arched her eyebrows, and -wondered for what Helen was to be made a _cat’s paw_ by her clever -mother. Whatever it was it did not appear, save as it showed itself in -Helen’s slightly changed demeanor when Mark again sought her society, -and tried to bring back to her face the look he had left there. But -something had come between them, and the young man racked his brain to -find the cause of this sudden indifference in one who had been pleased -with him only a short half hour before. - -“It’s that confounded waltzing which disgusted her,” he said, “and no -wonder, for if ever a man looks like an idiot, it is when he is kicking -up his heels to the sound of a fiddle, and whirling some woman whose -skirts sweep everything within the circle of a rod, and whose face wears -that die-away expression I have so often noticed. I’ve half a mind to -swear I’ll never dance again.” - -But Mark was too fond of dancing to quit it at once, and finding Helen -still indifferent, he yielded to circumstances, and the last she saw of -him, as at a comparative early hour she left the gay scene, he was -dancing again with Juno. It was a heavy blow to Helen, for she had -become greatly interested in Mark Ray, whose attentions had made her -stay in New York so pleasant. But these were over now;—at least the -excitement they brought was over, and Helen, as she sat in her -dressing-room at home, and thought of the future as well as the past, -felt stealing over her a sense of desolation and loneliness such as she -had experienced but once before, and that on the night when leaning from -her window at the farm-house where Mark Ray was stopping she had -shuddered and shrank from living all her days among the rugged hills of -Silverton. New York had opened an entirely new world to her, showing her -much that was vain and frivolous, with much too that was desirable and -good; and if there had crept into her heart the thought that a life with -such people as Mrs. Banker and those who frequented her house would be -preferable to a life in Silverton, where only Morris understood her, it -was but the natural result of daily intercourse with one who had studied -to please and interest as Mark Ray had done. But Helen had too much good -sense and strength of will, long to indulge in what she would have -called “love-sick regrets” in others, and she began to devise the best -course for her to adopt hereafter, concluding finally to treat him much -as she had done, lest he should suspect how deeply she had been wounded. -Now that she knew of his engagement, it would be an easy matter so to -demean herself as neither to annoy Juno nor vex him. Thoroughly now she -understood why Juno Cameron had seemed to dislike her so much. - -“It is natural,” she said, “and yet I honestly believe I like her better -for knowing what I do. There must be some good beneath that proud -exterior, or Mark would never seek her.” - -Still, look at it from any point she chose, it seemed a strange, -unsuitable match, and Helen’s heart ached sadly as she finally retired -to rest, thinking what _might have been_ had Juno Cameron found some -other lover more like herself than Mark could ever be. - - - - - 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 -did. She could not, perhaps, have resisted him, but his manner was not -very decided, and so she quietly persisted, “Genevra or nothing,” until -the others gave up the contest, hoping she would feel differently after -a few days’ reflection. But Katy knew she shouldn’t, and Helen could not -overcome the exultation with which she saw her little sister put the -Camerons to rout and remain master of the field. - -“After all it does not matter,” Mrs. Cameron said to her daughters, -when, after Mrs. Wilford was gone, she sat talking of Katy’s queer fancy -and her obstinacy in adhering to it. “It does not matter, and on the -whole I had as soon the christening would be postponed until the child -is more presentable than now. It will be prettier by and by, and the -dress will become it better. We can afford to wait.” - -This heartless view of the case was readily adopted by Juno, while Bell -professed to be terribly shocked at hearing them talk thus of a baptism, -as if it were a mere show and nothing more, wondering if the Saviour -thought of dress or personal appearance when the Hebrew mothers brought -their children to him. But little did Mrs. Cameron or Juno care for the -baptism except as a display, and as both would be much prouder of a -fine-looking child, they were well content to wait until such time as -Katy should incline more favorably to their Margaret or Rose Marie. To -Helen is seemed highly probable that after a private interview with -Wilford Katy would change her mind, and she felt a wickedly agreeable -degree of disappointment when, on the day following the dinner party, -she found her sister even more resolved than ever upon having her own -way. Like the Camerons, she did not feel the necessity of haste,—time -enough by and by, when she would not have so much opposition to -encounter, she said; and as Wilford did not care, it was finally -arranged that they would wait awhile ere they gave a cognomen to the -little nameless child, only known as Baby Cameron. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV. - TROUBLE IN THE HOUSEHOLD. - - -As soon as it was understood that Mrs. Wilford Cameron was able to go -out, there were scores of pressing invitations from the gay world which -had missed her so much, but Katy declined them all on the plea that baby -needed her care. She was happier at home, and as a mother it was her -place to stay there. At first Wilford listened quietly, but when he -found it was her fixed determination to abjure society entirely, he -interfered in his cool, decisive way, which always carried its point. - -“It was foolish to take that stand,” he said. “Other mothers went and -why should not she? She had already stayed in too much. She was injuring -herself, and”—what was infinitely worse to Wilford—“she was losing her -good looks.” - -As proof of this he led her to the glass, showing her the pale, thin -face and unnaturally large eyes, so distasteful to him. Wilford Cameron -was very proud of his handsome house,—proud to know that everything -there was in keeping with his position and wealth, but when Katy was -immured in the nursery, the bright picture was obscured, for it needed -her presence to make it perfect, and he began to grow dissatisfied with -his surroundings, while abroad he missed her quite as much, finding the -opera, the party or the reception, insipid where she was not, and -feeling fully conscious that Wilford Cameron, without a wife, and that -wife Katy, was not a man of half the consequence he had thought himself -to be. Even Sybil Grandon did not think it worth her while to court his -attention, if Katy were not present, for unless some one saw and felt -her triumph it ceased directly to be one. On the whole Wilford was not -well pleased with society as he found it this winter, and knowing where -the trouble lay, he resolved that Katy should no longer remain at home, -growing pale and faded and losing her good looks. Wilford would not have -confessed it, and perhaps was not himself aware of the fact, that Katy’s -beauty was quite as dear to him as Katy herself. If she lost it her -value was decreased accordingly, and so, as a prudent husband, it -behooved him to see that what was so very precious was not unnecessarily -thrown away. It did not take long for Katy to understand that her days -of quiet were at an end,—that neither crib nor cradle could avail her -longer. Mrs. Kirby, selected from a host of applicants, was wholly -competent for Baby Cameron, and Katy must throw aside the mother, which -sat so prettily upon her, and become again the belle. It was a sad -trial, but Katy knew that submission was the only alternative, and so -when Mrs. Banker’s invitation came, she accepted it at once, but there -was a sad look upon her face as she kissed her baby for the twentieth -time ere going to her dressing maid. - -Never until this night had Helen realized how beautiful Katy was when in -full evening dress, and her exclamations of delight brought a soft flush -to Katy’s cheek, while she felt a thrill of the olden vanity as she saw -herself once more arrayed in all her costly apparel. Helen did not -wonder at Wilford’s desire to have Katy with him, and very proudly she -watched her young sister as Esther twined the flowers in her hair and -then brought out the ermine cloak she was to wear as a protection -against the cold. - -Wilford was standing by her, making a few suggestions, and expressing -his approbation in a way which reminded Helen of that night before the -marriage, when Katy’s dress had been condemned, and of that sadder, -bitterer time, when she had poured her tears like rain into that trunk -returned. All she had thought of Wilford then was now more than -confirmed, but he was kind to her and very proud of Katy, so she forced -back her feelings of disquiet, which, however, were roused again when -she saw the dark look on his face, as Katy, at the very last, ran to the -nursery to kiss baby good-bye, succeeding this time in waking it, as was -proven by the cry which made Wilford scowl angrily and brought to his -lips a word of rebuke for Katy’s childishness. - -The party was not so large as that at Sybil Grandon’s, but it was more -select, and Helen enjoyed it better, meeting people who readily -appreciated the peculiarities of her mind, and who would have made her -forget all else around her if she had not been a guest at Mark Ray’s -house. It was the first time she had met him away from home since the -night at Mrs. Grandon’s, and as if forgetful of her reserve, he paid her -numberless attentions, which, coming from the master of the house, were -the more to be valued. - -With a quiet dignity Helen received them all, the thought once creeping -into her heart that _she_ was preferred, notwithstanding that -engagement. But she soon repudiated this idea as unworthy of her. She -could not be wholly happy with one who, to win her hand, had trampled -upon the affections of another, even if that other were Juno Cameron. - -And so she kept out of his way as much as possible, watching her sister -admiringly as she moved about with an easy, assured grace, or floated -like a snowflake through the dance in which Wilford persuaded her to -join, looking after her with a proud, all-absorbing feeling, which left -no room for Sybil Grandon’s coquettish advances. - -As if the reappearance of Katy had awakened all that was weak and silly -in Sybil’s nature, she again put forth her powers of attraction, but met -only with defeat. Katy, and even Helen, was preferred before her,—both -belles of a different type; but both winning golden laurels from those -who hardly knew which to admire more—Katy, with her pure, delicate -beauty and charming simplicity, or Helen, with her attractive face, and -sober, quiet manner. But Katy grew tired early. She could not endure -what she once did; and when she came to Wilford with a weary look upon -her face, and asked him to go home, he did not refuse, though Mark, who -was near, protested against their leaving so soon. - -“Surely Miss Lennox might remain; the carriage could be sent back for -her; and he had hardly seen her at all.” But Miss Lennox chose to go; -and after her white cloak and hood had passed through the door into the -street, there was nothing attractive for Mark in his crowded parlors, -and he was glad when the last guest had departed, and he was left alone -with his mother. - -Operas, parties, receptions, dinners, matinees, morning calls, drives, -visits, and shopping; how fast one crowded upon the other, leaving -scarcely an hour of leisure to the devotee of fashion who attended to -them all. How astonished Helen was to find what _high life_ in New York -implied, and she ceased to wonder that so many of the young girls grew -haggard and old before their time, or that the dowagers grew selfish and -hard and scheming. She should die outright, she thought, and she pitied -poor little Katy, who, having once returned to the world, seemed -destined to remain there, in spite of her entreaties and the excuses she -made for declining the invitations which poured in so fast. - -“Baby was not well—Baby needed her,” was the plea with which she met -Wilford’s arguments, until the mention of his child was sure to bring a -scowl upon his face, and it became a question in Helen’s mind, whether -he would not be happier if Baby had never come between him and his -ambition. - -To hear Katy’s charms extolled, and know that he was envied the -possession of so rare a gem, feeling all the while sure of her faith, -was Wilford’s great delight, and it is not strange that, without any -very strong fatherly feeling or principle of right in that respect, he -should be irritated by the little life so constantly interfering with -his pleasure and so surely undermining Katy’s health. For Katy did not -improve, as Wilford hoped she might; and with his two hands he could -span her slender waist, while the beautiful neck and shoulders were no -longer worn uncovered, for Katy would not display her _bones_, whatever -the fashion might be. In this dilemma Wilford sought his mother, and the -result of that consultation brought a more satisfied look to his face -than it had worn for many a day. - -“Strange he had never thought of it, when it was what so many people -did,” he said to himself, as he hurried home. “It was the very best -thing both for Katy and the child, and would obviate every difficulty.” - -Next morning, as she sometimes did when more than usually fatigued, Katy -breakfasted in bed; while Wilford’s face, as he sat opposite Helen at -the table, had on it a look of quiet determination, such as she had -rarely seen there before. In a measure, accustomed to his moods, she -felt that something was wrong, and never dreaming that he intended -honoring her with his confidence, she was wishing he would finish his -coffee and leave, when, motioning the servant from the room, he said -abruptly, and in a tone which roused Helen’s antagonistic powers at -once, it was so cool, so decided, “I believe you have more influence -over your sister than I have; at least, she has latterly shown a -willfulness in disregarding me and a willingness to listen to you, which -confirms me in this conclusion——” - -“Well,” and Helen twisted her napkin ring nervously, waiting for him to -say more; but her manner disconcerted him, making him a little uncertain -as to what might be hidden behind that rigid face, and a little doubtful -as to the expression it would put on when he had said all he meant to -say. - -He did not expect it to wear a look as frightened and hopeless as Katy’s -did when he last saw it upon the pillow, for he knew how different the -two sisters were, and much as he had affected to despise Helen Lennox, -he was afraid of her now. It had never occurred to him before that he -was somewhat uncomfortable in her presence—that her searching brown eyes -often held him in check; but it came to him now, that his wife’s sister -had a _will_ almost as firm as his own, and she was sure to take Katy’s -part. He saw it in her face, even though she had no idea of what he -meant to say. - -He must explain sometime, and so at last he continued. “You must have -seen how opposed Katy is to complying with my wishes, setting them at -naught, when she knows how much pleasure she would give me by yielding -as she used to do.” - -“I don’t know what you mean,” Helen replied, “unless it is her aversion -to going out, as that, I think, is the only point where her obedience -has not been absolute.” - -Wilford did not like the words _obedience_ and _absolute_; that is, he -did not like the _sound_. Their definition suited him, but Helen’s -enunciation was at fault, and he answered quickly, “I do not require -absolute obedience from Katy. I never did; but in this matter to which -you refer, I think she might consult my wishes as well as her own. There -is no reason for her secluding herself in the nursery as she does. Do -you think there is?” - -He put the question direct, and Helen answered it. - -“I do not believe Katy means to displease you, but she has conceived a -strong aversion for festive scenes, and besides, baby is not healthy, -you know, and like all young mothers, she may be over-anxious, while I -fancy she has not the fullest confidence in the nurse, and this may -account for her unwillingness to leave the child with her.” - -“Kirby was all that was desirable,” Wilford replied. “His mother had -taken her from a genteel, respectable house in Bond street, and he paid -her an enormous price, consequently she must be right;” and then came -the story that his mother had decided that neither Katy nor baby would -improve so long as they remained together; that for both a separation -was desirable; that she had recommended sending the child into the -country, where it would be better cared for than it could be at home, -with Katy constantly undoing all Mrs. Kirby had done, waking it from -sleep whenever the fancy took her, and in short, treating it much as she -probably did her doll when she was a little girl. With the child away, -there would be nothing to prevent Katy’s going out again and getting -back her good looks, which were somewhat impaired. - -“Why, she looks older than you do,” Wilford said, thinking thus to -conciliate Helen, who quietly replied, - -“There is not two years difference between us, and I have always been -well, and kept regular hours until I came here.” - -Wilford’s compliment had failed, and more annoyed than before, he asked, -not what Helen thought of the arrangement, but if she would influence -Katy to act and think rationally upon it; “at least, you will not make -it worse,” he said, and this time there was something deferential and -pleading in his manner. - -Helen knew the matter was fixed,—that neither Katy’s tears nor -entreaties would avail to revoke the decision, and so, though her whole -soul rose in indignation against a man who would deliberately send his -nursing baby from his roof because it was in his way, and was robbing -his bride’s cheek of its girlish bloom, she answered composedly, - -“I will do what I can, but I must confess it seems to me an unnatural -thing. I had supposed parents less selfish than that.” - -Wilford did not care what Helen had supposed, and her opposition only -made him more resolved. Still he did not say so, and he tried to smile -as he quitted the table and remarked to her, - -“I hope to find Katy reconciled when I come home. I think I had better -not go up to her again, so tell her I send a good-bye kiss by you. I -leave her case in your hands.” - -It was a far more difficult case than either he or Helen imagined, and -the latter started back in alarm from the white face which greeted her -view as she entered Katy’s room, and then with a moan hid itself in the -pillow. - -“Wilford thought he would not come up, but he sent a kiss by me,” Helen -said, softly touching the bright, disordered hair, all she could see of -her sister. - -“It does not matter,” Katy gasped. “Kisses cannot help me if they take -baby away. Did he tell you?” and she turned now partly towards Helen, -who nodded affirmatively, while Katy continued, “Had he taken a knife -and cut a cruel gash it would not have hurt me half so badly. I could -bear that, but my baby—oh, Helen, do you think they will take her away?” - -She was looking straight at Helen, who shivered as she met an expression -so unlike Katy, and so like to that a hunted deer might wear if its -offspring were in danger. - -“Say, do you think they will?” she continued, shedding back with her -thin hand the mass of tangled curls which had fallen about her eyes. - -“Whom do you mean by _they_?” Helen asked, coming near to her, and -sitting down upon the bed. - -There was a resentful gleam in the blue eyes usually so gentle, as Katy -answered, - -“_Whom_ do I mean? _His folks_, of course! They have been the -instigators of every sorrow I have known since I left Silverton. Oh, -Helen! never, never marry anybody who has _folks_, if you wish to be -happy.” - -Helen could not repress a smile, though she pitied her sister, who -continued, - -“I don’t mean father Cameron, nor Bell, for I believe they love me. -Father does, I know, and Bell has helped me so often; but Mrs. Cameron -and Juno, oh, Helen, you will never know what _they_ have been to me.” - -Since Helen came to New York there had been so much else to talk about -that Katy had said comparatively little of the Camerons. Now, however -there was no holding back on Katy’s part, and beginning with the first -night of her arrival in New York, she told what is already known to the -reader, exonerating Wilford in word, but dealing out full justice to his -mother and Juno, the former of whom controlled him so completely. - -“I tried so hard to love her,” Katy said, “and if she had given me ever -so little in return I would have been satisfied; but she never did—that -is, when I hungered for it most, missing you at home, and the loving -care which sheltered me in childhood. After the world took me into favor -she began to caress me, but I was wicked enough to think it all came of -selfishness. I know I am hard and bad, for when I was sick, Mrs. Cameron -was really very kind, and I began to like her; but if she takes baby -away I shall surely die.” - -“Where is baby to be sent?” Helen asked, and Katy answered, - -“Up the river, to a house which Father Cameron owns, and which is kept -by a farmer’s family. I can’t trust Kirby. I do not like her. She keeps -baby asleep too long, and acts so cross if I try to wake her, or hint -that she looks unnatural. I cannot give baby to her care, with no one to -look after her, though Wilford says I must.” - -Katy had never offered so violent opposition to any plan as she did now -to that of sending her child away. - -“I can’t, I can’t,” she repeated constantly, and Mrs. Cameron’s call, -made that afternoon, with a view to reconcile the matter, only made it -worse, so that Wilford, on his return at night, felt a pang of -self-reproach as he saw the drooping figure holding his child upon its -lap and singing its lullaby in a plaintive voice, which told how sore -was its heart. - -Wilford did not mean to be either a savage or a brute. On the contrary, -he had made himself believe that he was acting only for the good of both -mother and child; but the sight of Katy touched him, and he might have -given up the contest had not Helen, unfortunately, taken up the cudgels -in Katy’s defence, neglecting to conceal the weapons, and so defeating -her purpose. It was at the dinner, from which Katy was absent, that she -ventured to speak, not _asking_ that the plan be given up, but speaking -of it as an unnatural one, which seemed to her not only useless, but -cruel. - -Wilford did not tell her that her opinion was not desired, but his -manner implied as much, and Helen felt the angry blood prickling through -her veins, as she listened to his reply, that it was neither unnatural -nor cruel; that many people did it, and his would not be an isolated -case. - -“Then, if it must be,” Helen said, “pray let it go to Silverton, and I -will be its nurse. Katy will not object to that.” - -In a very ironical tone Wilford thanked her for her offer, which he -begged leave to decline, intimating a preference for settling his own -matters according to his own ideas. Helen knew that further argument was -useless, and wished herself at home, where there were no _wills_ like -this, which, ignoring Katy’s tears and Katy’s pleading face, would not -retract one iota, or even stoop to reason with the suffering mother, -except to reiterate, “It is only for your good, and every one with -common sense will say so.” - -Next morning Helen was surprised at Katy’s proposition to drive round to -Fourth street, and call on Marian. - -“I have a strong presentiment that she can do me good,” Katy said. - -“Shall you tell _her_?” Helen asked, in some surprise; and Katy replied, -“Perhaps I may, I’ll see.” - -An hour later, and Katy, up in Marian’s room, sat listening intently, -while Marian spoke of a letter received a few days since from an old -friend who had worked with her at Madam ——‘s, and to whom she had been -strongly attached, keeping up a correspondence with her after her -marriage and removal to New London, in Connecticut, and whose little -child had borne Marian’s name. That child, born two months before -Katy’s, _was dead_, and the mother, finding her home so desolate, had -written, beseeching Marian to come to her for the remainder of the -winter. - -There was an eager look in Katy’s face, and her eyes danced with the new -idea which had suddenly taken possession of her. She could _not_ trust -baby with Kirby up the river, but she could trust her in New London with -Mrs. Hubbell, if Marian was there, and grasping the latter’s arm, she -exclaimed, “Is Mrs. Hubbell poor? Would she do something for money, a -great deal of money, I mean?” - -In a few moments Marian had heard Katy’s trouble, and Katy’s wish that -Mrs. Hubbell should take her child in place of the little one dead. -“Perhaps she would not harbor the thought for a moment, but she misses -her own so much, it made me think she might take mine. Write to her, -Marian,—write to-day,—now, before I go,” Katy continued, clasping -Marian’s hand, with an expression which, more than aught else, won -Marian Hazelton’s consent to a plan which seemed so strange. - -“Yes, I will write,” she answered; “I will tell Amelia what you desire.” - -“But, Marian, you too must go, if baby does—I’ll trust baby with you. -Say, Marian, will you go with my darling?” - -It was hard to refuse, with those great, wistful, pleading eyes, looking -so earnestly into hers; but Marian must have time to consider. She had -thought of going to New London to open a shop, and if she did, she -should board with Mrs. Hubbell, and so be with the child. She would -decide when the answer came to the letter. - -This was all the encouragement she would give; but it was enough to -change the whole nature of Katy’s feelings, and her face looked bright -and cheerful as she tripped down the stairway, talking to Helen of what -seemed to both like a direct interposition of Providence, and what she -was sure would please Wilford quite as well as the farm-house up the -river. - -“Surely he will yield to me in this,” she said. Nor was she wrong; for, -glad of an opportunity to make some concessions, and still in the main -have his own way, Wilford raised no objection to the plan as -communicated to him by Katy, when, at an earlier hour than usual he came -home to dinner, and with the harmony of his household once more -restored, felt himself a model husband, as he listened to Katy’s plan of -sending baby to New London. On the whole, it might be better even than -the farm-house up the river, he thought, for it was further away, and -Katy could not be tiring herself with driving out every few days, and -keeping herself constantly uneasy and excited. The distance between New -York and New London was the best feature of the whole; and he wondered -Katy had not thought of it as an objection. But she had not, and but for -the pain when she remembered the coming separation, she would have been -very happy that evening, listening with Wilford and Helen to a new opera -brought out for the first time in New York. - -Very differently from this was Marian’s evening passed, and on her face -there was a look such as Katy’s had never worn, as she asked for -guidance to choose the right, to lay all self aside, and if it were her -duty, to care for the child she had never seen, but whose birth had -stirred the pulsations of her heart and made the old wound bleed and -throb with bitter anguish. And as she prayed there crept into her face a -look which told that self was sacrificed at last, and Katy Cameron was -safe with her. - - * * * * * - -Mrs. Hubbell was willing—aye, more than that—was glad to take the child, -and the generous remuneration offered would make them so comfortable in -their little cottage, she wrote to Marian, who hastened to confer by -note with Katy, adding in a postscript, “Is it still your wish that I -should go? If so, I am at your disposal.” - -It _was_ Katy’s wish, and she replied at once, going next to the nursery -to talk with Mrs. Kirby. Dark were the frowns and dire the displeasure -of that lady when told that, instead of going up the river, as she had -hoped, she was free to return to the “genteel and highly respectable -home on Bond street,” where Mrs. Cameron had found her. - -“Wait till the _Madam_ comes, and then we’ll see,” she thought, -referring to Mrs. Cameron, and feeling delighted when, that very day, -she heard that lady’s voice in the parlor. - -But Mrs. Cameron, though a little anxious with regard to both Mrs. -Hubbell’s and Marian’s antecedents, saw that Wilford was in favor of New -London, and so voted accordingly, only asking that she might write to -New London with regard to Mrs. Hubbell and her fitness to take charge of -a child in whose veins Cameron blood was flowing. To this Katy assented, -and as the answer returned to Mrs. Cameron’s letter was altogether -favorable, it was decided that Mrs. Hubbell should come to the city at -once for her little charge. - -In a week’s time she arrived, seeming everything Katy could ask for, and -as Mrs. Cameron, too, approved her heartily as a modest, well-spoken -young woman, who knew her place, it was arranged that she should return -home with her little charge on Saturday, thus giving Katy the benefit of -Sunday in which “to get over it and recover her usual spirits,” Mrs. -Cameron said. The fact that Marian was going to New London within a week -after baby went, reconciled Katy to the plan, making her even cheerful -during the last day of baby’s stay at home. But as the daylight waned -and the night came on, a shadow began to steal across her face, and her -step was slower as she went up the stairs to the nursery, while only -herself that night could disrobe the little creature and hush it into -sleep. - -“’Tis the last time, you know,” she said to Kirby, who went out, leaving -the young mother and child alone. - -Mournfully sad and sweet was the lullaby Katy sang, and Helen, who, in -the hall, was listening to the low, sad moaning,—half prayer, half -benediction,—likened it to a farewell between the living and dead. Half -an hour later, when she glanced into the room, lighted only by the -moonbeams, baby was sleeping in her crib, whilst Katy knelt beside, her -face buried in her hands, and her form quivering with the sobs she tried -to smother as she softly prayed that her darling might come back again; -that God would keep the little child and forgive the erring mother, who -had sinned so deeply since the time she used to pray in her home among -the hills of Massachusetts. She was very white next morning, and to -Helen she seemed to be expanding into something more womanly, more -mature, as she disciplined herself to bear the pain welling up so -constantly from her heart, and at last overflowing in a flood of tears, -when Mrs. Hubbell was announced as in the parlor below, waiting for her -charge. - -It was Katy who made her baby ready, trusting her to no one else, and -repelling with a kind of fierce decision all offers of assistance made -either by Helen, Mrs. Cameron, Bell, or the nurse, who were present, -while Katy’s hands drew on the little bright, soft socks of wool, tied -the hood of satin and lace, and fastened the scarlet cloak, her tears -falling fast as she met the loving, knowing look the baby was just -learning to give her, half smiling, half cooing, as she bent her face -down to it. - -“Please all of you go out,” she said, when baby was ready—“Wilford and -all. I would rather be alone.” - -They granted her request, but Wilford stood beside the open door, -listening while the mother bade farewell to her baby. - -“Darling,” she murmured, “what will poor Katy do when you are gone, or -what will comfort her as you have done? Precious baby, my heart is -breaking to give you up; but will the Father in Heaven, who knows how -much you are to me, keep you from harm and bring you back again? I’d -give the world to keep you, but I cannot do it, for Wilford says that -you must go, and Wilford is your father.” - -At that moment Wilford Cameron would have given half his fortune to have -kept his child for Katy’s sake, but it was now too late; the carriage -was at the door, and Mrs. Hubbell was waiting in the hall for the little -procession filing down the stairs. Mrs. Cameron and Bell, Wilford and -Katy, who carried the baby herself, her face bent over it and her tears -still dropping like rain. But it was Wilford who took the baby to the -carriage, going with it to the train and seeing Mrs. Hubbell off; then, -on his way back, he drove round to his own house, which even to him -seemed lonely, with all the paraphernalia of babyhood removed. Still, -now that the worst was over, he rather enjoyed it, for Katy was free -from care; there was nothing to hinder her gratifying his every wish, -and with his spirits greatly enlivened as he reflected how satisfactory -everything had been managed at the last, he proposed taking both Helen -and Katy to the theatre that night. But Katy answered, “No, Wilford, not -to-night; it seems too much like baby’s funeral. I’ll go next week, but -not to-night.” - -So Katy had her way, and among the worshipers who next day knelt in -Grace Church, with words of prayer upon their lips, there was not one -more in earnest than she, whose only theme was, “My child, my darling -child.” - -She did not get over it by Monday, as Mrs. Cameron had predicted. She -did not get over it at all, though she went without a word where Wilford -willed that she should go, and was ere long a belle again, but nothing -had power to draw one look from her blue eyes, the look which many -observed, and which Helen knew sprang from the mother-love, hungering -for its child. Only once before had Helen seen a look like this, and -that had come to Morris’s face on the sad night when she said to him, -“It might have been.” It had been there ever since, and Helen felt that -by the pangs with which that look was born he was a better man, just as -Katy was growing better for that hunger in her heart. God was taking His -own way to purify them both, and Helen watched intently, wondering what -the end would be. - - - - - CHAPTER XXV. - AUNT BETSY GOES ON A JOURNEY. - - -Just through the woods, where Uncle Ephraim was wont to exercise old -Whitey, was a narrow strip of land, extending from the highway to the -pond, and fertile in nothing except the huckleberry bushes, and the -rocky ledges over which a few sheep roamed, seeking for the short grass -and stunted herbs, which gave them a meagre sustenance. As a whole, it -was comparatively valueless, but to Aunt Betsy Barlow it was of great -importance, as it was—_her property_—the land on which she paid taxes -willingly—the real estate, the deed of which was lying undisturbed in -her hair trunk, where it had lain for years. Several dispositions the -good old lady had mentally made of this property, sometimes dividing it -equally between Helen and Katy, sometimes willing it all to the former, -and again, when she thought of Mark Ray, leaving the _interest_ of it to -some missionary society in which she was interested. - -How, then, was the poor woman amazed and confounded when suddenly there -appeared a claimant to her property; not the whole, but a part, and that -part taking in the big sweet apple-tree and the very best of the berry -bushes, leaving her nothing but rocks and bogs, a pucker cherry-tree, a -patch of tansy, and one small tree, whose gnarly apples were not fit, -she said, to feed the pigs. - -Of course she was indignant, and all the more so because the claimant -was prepared to prove that the line fence was not where it should be, -but ran into his own dominions for the width of two or three rods, a -fact he had just discovered by looking over a bundle of deeds, in which -the boundaries of his own farm were clearly defined. - -In her distress, Aunt Betsy’s first thoughts were turned to _Wilford_ as -the man who could redress her wrongs, if any one, and a long letter was -written to him, in which her grievances were told in detail and his -advice solicited. Commencing with “My dear Wilford,” closing with “Your -respected ant,” sealed with a wafer, stamped with her thimble, and -directed bottom side up, it nevertheless found its way to No. —— -Broadway, and into Wilford’s hands. But with a frown and pish of -contempt he tossed it into the grate, and vain were all Aunt Betsy’s -inquiries as to whether there was any letter for her when Uncle Ephraim -came home from the office. Letters there were from Helen, and sometimes -one from Katy, but none from Wilford, and her days were passed in great -perplexity and distress, until another idea took possession of her mind. -She would go to New York herself! She had never traveled over half a -dozen miles in the cars, it was true, but it was time she had, and now -that she had a new bonnet and shawl, she could go to _York_ as well as -not! - -Wholly useless were the expostulations of the family, for she would not -listen to them, nor believe that she would not be welcome at that house -on Madison Square, to which Mrs. Lennox had never been invited since -Katy was fairly settled in it. Much at first had been said of her -coming, and of the room she was to occupy; but all that had ceased, and -in the mother’s heart there had been a painful doubt as to the reason of -the silence, until Helen’s letters enlightened her, telling her it was -Wilford who had built so high a wall between Katy and her friends. - -Far better than she used, did Mrs. Lennox understand her son-in-law, and -she shrank in horror from suffering her aunt to go where she would be so -serious an annoyance, frankly telling her the reason for her objections, -and asking if she wished to mortify the girls - -At this Aunt Betsy took umbrage at once. - -“She’d like to know what there was about her to mortify anybody? Wasn’t -her black silk dress made long and full, and the old pongee fixed into a -Balmoral, and hadn’t she a bran new cap with purple ribbon, and couldn’t -she travel in her delaine, and didn’t she wear hoops always now, except -at cleanin’ house times? Didn’t she _nuss_ both the girls, especially -Cather_ine_, carrying her in her arms one whole night when she had the -canker-rash, and everybody thought she’d die? And when she swallered -that tin whistle, didn’t she spat her on the back and swing her in the -air till she came to and blew the whistle clear across the room? Tell -her that Cather_ine_ would be ashamed! She knew better!” - -Then, as a doubt began to cross her own mind as to Wilford’s readiness -to entertain her at his house, she continued, - -“At any rate, the _Tubbses_, who moved from Silverton last fall, and who -are living in such style on the Bowery, wouldn’t be ashamed, and I can -stop with them at first, till I see how the land lies. They have invited -me to come, both Miss Tubbs and ’Tilda, and they are nice folks, who -belong to the Orthodox Church. Tom is in town now, and if I see him I -shall talk with him about it, even if I never go.” - -Most devoutly did Mrs. Lennox and Aunt Hannah hope that Tom would return -to New York without honoring the farm-house with a call; but, -unfortunately for them, he came that very afternoon, and instead of -throwing obstacles in Aunt Betsy’s way, urged her warmly to make the -proposed visit. - -“Mother would be so glad to see an old neighbor,” the honest youth said, -“for she did not know many folks in the city. _’Till_ had made some -flashy acquaintances, of whom he did not think much, and they kept a few -boarders, but nobody had called, and mother was lonesome. He wished Miss -Barlow would come; she would have no difficulty in finding them,” and on -a bit of paper he marked out the route of the Fourth Avenue cars, which -passed their door, and which Aunt Betsy would take after arriving at the -New Haven depot. “If he knew when she was coming, he would meet her,” he -said, but Aunt Betsy could not tell; she was not quite certain whether -she should go at all, she was so violently opposed. - -Still she did not give it up entirely, and when, a few days after Tom’s -return to New York, there came a pressing invitation from the daughter -Matilda, or Mattie, as she signed herself, the fever again ran high, and -this time with but little hope of its abating. - -“We shall be delighted, both mother and me,” Mattie wrote. “I will show -you all the lions of the city, and when you get tired of us you can go -up to Mrs. Cameron’s. I know exactly where they live, and have seen her -at the opera in full dress, looking like a queen.” - -Over the last part of this letter Aunt Betsy pondered for some time. -“That as good an Orthodox as Miss Tubbs should let her girl go to the -opera, passed her. She had wondered at Helen’s going, but then, she was -a ’Piscopal, and them ’Piscopals had queer notions about usin’ the world -and abusin’ it.” Still, as Helen did _not_ attend the theatre, and _did_ -attend the opera, there must be a difference between the two places, and -into the old lady’s heart there slowly crept the thought that possibly -_she_ might try the opera, too, if Tilda Tubbs would go, and promise -never to tell the folks at Silverton. - -This settled, Aunt Betsy began to devise the best means of getting off -with the least opposition. Both Morris and her brother would be absent -from town during the next week, and she finally resolved to take that -opportunity for starting on her visit to New York, wisely concluding to -keep her own counsel until she was quite ready. Accordingly, on the very -day Morris and the deacon left Silverton, she announced her intention so -quietly and decidedly that further opposition was useless, and Mrs. -Lennox did what she could to make her aunt presentable. And Aunt Betsy -did look very respectable, in her dark delaine, with her hat and shawl, -both Morris’s gift, and both in very good taste. As for the black silk -and the new cap, they were carefully folded away, one in a box and the -other in a satchel she carried on her arm, and in one compartment of -which were sundry papers of fennel, caraway, and catnip, intended for -Katy’s baby, and which could be sent to it from New York. There was also -a package of dried plums and peaches for Katy herself, and a few cakes -of yeast of her own make, better than any they had in the city! Thus -equipped, she one morning took her seat in the Boston and New York -train, which carried her swiftly on towards Springfield. - -“If anybody can find their way in New York, it is Betsy,” Aunt Hannah -said to Mrs. Lennox, as the day wore on and their thoughts went after -the lone woman, who, with satchel, umbrella and cap-box, was -felicitating in the luxury of a whole seat, and the near neighborhood of -a very nice young man, who listened with well-bred interest while she -told of her troubles concerning the sheep-pasture, and how she was going -to New York to consult a first-rate lawyer. - -Once she thought to tell who the lawyer was, and perhaps enhance her own -merits in the eyes of her auditor by announcing herself as aunt to Mrs. -Wilford Cameron, of whom she had no doubt he had heard—nay, more, whom -he possibly knew, inasmuch as his home was in New York, though he spent -much of his time at West Point, where he had been educated. But certain -disagreeable remembrances of Aunt Hannah’s parting injunction, “not to -tell everybody in the cars that she was Katy’s aunt,” kept her silent on -that point, and so Lieutenant Bob Reynolds failed to be enlightened with -regard to the relationship existing between the fastidious Wilford -Cameron of Madison Square, and the quaint old lady whose very first act -on entering the car had amused him vastly. At a glance he saw that she -was unused to traveling, and as the car was crowded, he had kindly -offered his seat near the door, taking the side one under the window, -and so close to her that she gave him her cap-box to hold while she -adjusted her other bundles. This done, and herself comfortably settled, -she was just remaking that she liked being close to the door, in case of -a fire, when the conductor appeared, extending his hand officially -towards her as the first one convenient. For an instant Aunt Betsy -scanned him closely, thinking she surely had never seen him before, but -as he seemed to claim acquaintance, she could not find it in her kind -heart to ignore him altogether, and so she grasped the offered hand, -which she tried to shake, saying apologetically, - -“Pretty well, thank you, but you’ve got the better of me, as I don’t -justly recall your name.” - -Instantly the eyes of the young man under the window met those of the -conductor with a look which changed the frown gathering in the face of -the latter into a comical smile, as he withdrew his hand and shouted, - -“Ticket, madam, your ticket!” - -“For the land’s sake, have I got to give that up so quick, when it’s at -the bottom of my satchel,” Aunt Betsy replied, somewhat crest-fallen at -her mistake, and fumbling in her pocket for the key, which was finally -produced, and one by one the paper parcels of fennel, caraway, and -catnip, dried plums, peaches and yeast cakes, were taken out, until at -the very bottom, as she had said, the ticket was found, the conductor -waiting patiently, and advising her, by way of avoiding future trouble, -to pin the card to her shawl, where it could be seen. - -“A right nice man,” was Aunt Betsy’s mental comment, but for a long time -there was a red spot on her cheeks as she felt that she had made herself -ridiculous, and hoped the _girls_ would never hear of it. - -The young man helped to reassure her, and in telling him her troubles -she forgot her chagrin, feeling very sorry that he was going on to -Albany, and so down the river to West Point. West Point was associated -in Aunt Betsy’s mind with that handful of noble men who within the walls -of Sumter were then the centre of so much interest, and at parting with -her companion she said to him. - -“Young man, you are a soldier, I take it, from your havin’ been to -school at West Point. Maybe you’ll never have to use your learning, but -if you do, stick to the old flag. Don’t you go against that, and if an -old woman’s prayers for your safety can do any good, be sure you’ll have -mine.” - -She raised her hand reverently, and Lieutenant Bob felt a kind of awe -steal over him as if he might one day need that benediction, the first -perhaps given in the cause then so terribly agitating all hearts both -North and South. - -“I’ll remember what you say,” he answered, and then as a new idea was -presented he took out a card, and writing a few lines upon it, bade her -hand it to the conductor just as she was getting into the city. - -Without her glasses Aunt Betsy could not read, and thinking it did not -matter now, she thrust the card into her pocket, and bidding her -companion good-by, took her seat in the other train. Lonely and a very -little homesick she began to feel; for her new neighbors were not as -willing to talk as Bob had been, and she finally relapsed into silence, -which resulted in a quiet sleep, from which she awoke just as they were -entering the long, dark tunnel, which she would have likened to -Purgatory, had she believed in such a place. - -“I didn’t know we ran into cellars,” she said faintly; but nobody heeded -her, or cared for the anxious timid-looking woman, who grew more and -more anxious, until suddenly remembering the card, she drew it from her -pocket, and the next time the conductor appeared handed it to him, -watching him while he read that “Lieut. Robert Reynolds would consider -it as a personal favor if he would see the bearer safely into the Fourth -Avenue cars.” - -Surely there is a Providence which watches over all; and Lieutenant -Reynolds’s thoughtfulness was not a mere chance, but the answer to the -simple trust Aunt Betsy had that God would take her safely to New York. -The conductor knew Lieutenant Bob, and attended as faithfully to his -wishes as if it had been a born princess instead of Aunt Betsy Barlow -whom he led to a street car, ascertaining the number on the Bowery where -she wished to stop, and reporting to the conductor, who bowed in -acquiescence, after glancing at the woman, and knowing intuitively that -she was from the country. Could she have divested herself wholly of the -fear that the conductor would forget to put her off at the right place, -Aunt Betsy would have enjoyed that ride very much; and as it was, she -looked around with interest, thinking New York a mightily cluttered-up -place, and wondering if all the folks were in the streets; then, as a -lady in flaunting robes took a seat beside her, crowding her into a -narrow space, the good old dame thought to show that she did not resent -it, by an attempt at sociability, asking if she knew “Miss Peter Tubbs, -whose husband kept a store on the Bowery?” - -“I have not that honor,” was the haughty reply, the lady drawing up her -costly shawl and moving a little away from her interlocutor, who -continued, “I thought like enough you might have seen ’Tilda, or Mattie -as she calls herself now. She is a right nice girl, and Tom is a very -forrard boy.” - -To this there was no reply; and as the lady soon left the car, Aunt -Betsy did not make another attempt at conversation, except to ask once -how far they were from the Bowery, adding, as she received a civil -answer, “You don’t know Mr. Peter Tubbs?” - -That worthy man was evidently a stranger to the occupants of that car, -which stopped at last upon a crossing, the conductor pointing back a few -doors to the right, and telling her that was her number. - -“I should s’pose he might have driv right up, instead of leaving me -here,” she said, looking wistfully after the retreating car. “Coats, and -trowsers, and jackets! I wonder if there is nothing else to be seen -here,” she continued, as her eye caught the long line of clothing so -conspicuously displayed in that part of the Bowery. “’Taint no great -shakes,” was the feeling struggling into Aunt Betsy’s mind, as with -Tom’s outline map in hand she peered at the numbers of the doors, -finding the right one, and ringing the bell with a force which brought -Mattie at once to the rescue. - -If Mattie was not glad to see her guest, she seemed to be, which -answered every purpose for the tired woman, who followed her into the -dark, narrow hall, and up the narrow stairs, through a still darker -hall, and into the front parlor, which looked out upon the Bowery. - -Mrs. Tubbs was glad to see Aunt Betsy. She did not take kindly to city -life, and the sight of a familiar face, which brought the country with -it, was very welcome to her. Mattie, on the contrary, liked New York, -and there was scarcely a street where she had not been, with Tom for a -protector; while she was perfectly conversant with all the respectable -places of amusement—with their different prices and different grades of -patrons. She knew where Wilford Cameron’s office was, and also his -house, for she had walked by the latter many a time, admiring the -elegant curtains, and feasting her eyes upon the glimpses of inside -grandeur, which she occasionally obtained as some one came out or went -in. Once she had seen Helen and Katy enter their carriage, which the -colored coachman drove away, but she had never ventured to accost them. -Katy would not have known her if she had, for the family had come to -Silverton while she was at Canandaigua, and as, after her return to -Silverton, until her marriage, Mattie had been in one of the Lawrence -factories, they had never met. With Helen, however, she had a speaking -acquaintance; but she had never presumed upon it in New York, though to -some of her young friends she had told how she once sat in the same pew -with Mrs. Wilford Cameron’s sister when she went to the “Episcopal -meeting,” and the consideration which this fact procured for her from -those who had heard of Mrs. Wilford Cameron, of Madison Square, awoke in -her the ambition to know more of that lady, and, if possible, gain an -entrance to her dwelling. To this end she favored Aunt Betsy’s visit, -hoping thus to accomplish her object, for, of course, when Miss Barlow -went to Mrs. Cameron’s, she was the proper person to go with her and -point the way. This was the secret of Mattie’s letter to Aunt Betsy, and -the warmth with which she welcomed her to that tenement on the Bowery, -over a clothing store, and so small that it is not strange Aunt Betsy -wondered where they all slept, never dreaming of the many devices known -to city housekeepers, who can change a handsome parlor into a kitchen or -sleeping room, and _vice versa_, with little or no trouble. But she -found it out at last, lifting her hands in speechless amazement, when, -as the hour for retiring came, what she had imagined the parlor bookcase -was converted into a comfortable bed, on which her first night in New -York was passed in comfort if not in perfect quiet. - -The next day had been set apart by Mattie for showing their guest the -city, and possibly calling on Mrs. Wilford; but the poor old lady, -unused to travel and excitement, was too tired to go out, and stayed at -home the entire day, watching the crowds of people in the street, and -occasionally wishing herself back in the clean, bright kitchen, where -the windows looked out upon woods and fields instead of that -never-ceasing rush which made her dizzy and faint. On the whole she was -as nearly homesick as she well could be, and so when Mattie asked if she -would like to go out that evening, she caught eagerly at the idea, as it -involved a change, and again the opera came before her mind, in spite of -her attempts to thrust it away. - -“Did ’Tilda know if Katy went to the opera now? Did she s’pose she would -be there to-night? Was it far to the show? What was the price?—and was -it a very wicked place?” - -To all these queries Mattie answered readily. She presumed Katy would be -there, as it was a new opera. It was not so very far. Distance in the -city was nothing, and it was not a wicked place; but over the price -Mattie faltered. Tickets for Aunt Betsy, herself and Tom, who of course -must go with them, would cost more than her father had to give. The -theatre was preferable, as that came within their means, and she -suggested Wallack’s, but from that Aunt Betsy recoiled as from -Pandemonium itself. - -“Catch _her_ at a theatre—a deacon’s sister, looked up to for a sample, -and who run once for Vice-President of the Sewing Society in Silverton! -It was too terrible to think of.” But the opera seemed different. Helen -went there; it could not be very wrong, particularly as the tickets were -so high, and taking out her purse, Aunt Betsy counted its contents -carefully, holding the bills thoughtfully for a moment, while she seemed -to be balancing between what she knew was safe and what she feared might -be wrong, at least in the eyes of Silverton. - -“But Silverton will never know it,” the tempter whispered, “and it is -worth something to see the girls in full dress.” - -This last decided it, and Aunt Betsy generously offered “to pay the -fiddler, provided ’Tilda would never let it get to Silverton, that Betsy -Barlow was seen inside a play-house!” To Mrs. Tubbs it seemed impossible -that Aunt Betsy could be in earnest, but when she found she was, she put -no impediments in her way; and so, conspicuous among the crowd of -transient visitors who that night entered the Academy of Music was Aunt -Betsy Barlow, chaperoned by Miss Mattie Tubbs, and protected by Tom, a -shrewd, well-grown youth of seventeen, who passed for some years older, -and consequently was a sufficient escort for the ladies under his -charge. It was not his first visit there, and he managed to procure a -seat which commanded a good view of several private boxes, and among -them that of Wilford Cameron. This Mattie pointed out to the excited -woman gazing about her in a maze of bewilderment, and half doubting her -own identity with the Betsy Barlow who, six weeks before, if charged -with such a sin as she was now committing, would have exclaimed, “Is thy -servant a dog, to do this thing?” Yet here she was, a deacon’s sister, a -candidate for the Vice-Presidency of the Silverton Sewing Society, a -woman who, for sixty-three years and a half, had led a blameless life, -frowning upon all worldly amusements and setting herself for a burning -light to others—here she was in her black dress, her best shawl pinned -across her chest, and her bonnet tied in a square bow which reached -nearly to her ears. Here she was, in that huge building, where the -lights were so blinding, and the crowd so great that she shut her eyes -involuntarily, while she tried to realize what she could be doing. - -“I’m in for it now, anyhow, and if it is wrong may the good Father -forgive me,” she said softly to herself, just as the orchestra struck -up, thrilling her with its ravishing strains, and making her forget all -else in her rapturous delight. - -She was very fond of music, and listened eagerly, beating time with both -her feet, and making her bonnet go up and down until the play commenced -and she saw stage dress and stage effect for the first time in her life. -This part she did not like; “they mumbled their words so nobody could -understand more than if they spoke a heathenish tongue,” she thought, -and she was beginning to yawn when a nudge from Mattie and a whisper, -“There they come,” roused her from her stupor, and looking up she saw -both Helen and Katy entering their box, and with them Mark Ray and -Wilford Cameron. - -Very rapidly Katy’s eyes swept the house, running over the sea of heads -below, but failing to see the figure which, half rising from its seat, -stood gazing upon her, the tears running like rain over the upturned -face, and the lips murmuring, “Darling Katy! blessed child! She’s -thinner than when I see her last, but oh! so beautiful and grand! -Precious lambkin! It isn’t wicked now for me to be coming here, where I -can see her face again.” - -It was all in vain that Mattie pulled her dress, bidding her sit down as -people were staring at her. Aunt Betsy did not hear, and if she had she -would scarcely have cared for those who, following her eyes, saw the -beautiful young ladies, behind whom Wilford and Mark were standing, but -never dreamed of associating them with the “crazy thing” who sank back -at last into her seat, keeping her eyes still upon the box where Helen -and Katy sat, their heads uncovered, and their cloaks falling off just -enough to show the astonished woman that their necks were uncovered too, -while Helen’s arms, raised to adjust her glass, were discovered to be in -the same condition. - -“Ain’t they splendid in full dress!” Mattie whispered, while Aunt Betsy -replied, - -“Call that full dress? I’d sooner say it was no dress at all! They’ll -catch their death of cold. What would their mother say?” - -Then, as the enormity of the act grew upon her, she continued more to -herself than to Mattie, - -“I mistrusted Catherine, but that _Helen_ should come to this passes -me.” - -Still, as she became more accustomed to it, and glanced at other -full-dressed ladies, the first shock passed away, and she could calmly -contemplate Katy’s dress, wondering what it cost, and then letting her -eyes pass on to Helen, to whom Mark Ray seemed so lover-like that Aunt -Betsy remembered her impressions when he stopped at Silverton, her heart -swelling with pride as she thought of both the girls making out so well. - -“Who is that young man talking to Helen?” Mattie asked, between the -acts, and when told it “was Mr. Ray, Wilford’s partner,” she drew her -breath eagerly, and turned again to watch him, envying the young girl -who did not seem as much gratified with the attentions as Mattie fancied -she should be were she in Helen’s place. - -How could she, with Juno Cameron just opposite, watching her jealously, -while Madam Cameron fanned herself indignantly, refusing to look upon -what she so greatly disapproved. - -But Mark continued his attentions until Helen wished herself away, and -though a good deal surprised, was not sorry when Wilford abruptly -declared the opera a _bore_, and suggested going home. - -They would order an ice, he said, and have a much pleasanter time in -their own private parlor. - -“Please not go; I like the play to-night,” Katy said; but on Wilford’s -face there was that look which never consulted Katy’s wishes, and so the -two ladies tied on their cloaks, and just as the curtain rose in the -last act, left their box, while Aunt Betsy looked wistfully after them, -but did not suspect _she_ was the cause of their exit, and of Wilford’s -perturbation. - -Running his eyes over the house below, they had fallen upon the trio, -Aunt Betsy, Mattie, and Tom, the first of whom was at that moment partly -standing, while she adjusted her heavy shawl, which the heat of the -building had compelled her to unfasten. - -There was a start, a rush of blood to the head and face, and then he -reflected how impossible it was that _she_ should be _there_, in New -York, and at the opera, too. - -The shawl arranged, Aunt Betsy took her seat and turned her face fully -toward him, while Wilford seized Katy’s glass and leveled it at her. He -was not mistaken. It was Aunt Betsy Barlow, and Wilford felt the -perspiration oozing out beneath his hair and about his lips, as he -remembered _the letter_ he had burned, wishing now that he had answered -it, and so, perhaps, have kept her from his door. For she _was_ coming -there, nay, possibly had come, since his departure from home, and -learning his whereabouts had followed on to the Academy of Music, -leaving her baggage where he should stumble over it on entering the -hall. - -Such was the fearful picture conjured up by Wilford’s imagination, as he -stood watching poor Aunt Betsy, a dark cloud on his brow and fierce -anger at his heart, that she should thus presume to worry and annoy him. - -“If she spies us she will be finding her way up here; there’s no piece -of effrontery of which that class is not capable,” he thought, wondering -next who the vulgar-looking girl and _gauche_ youth were who were with -her. - -“Country cousins, of whom I have never heard, no doubt,” and he ground -his teeth together as with his next breath he suggested going home, -carrying out his suggestion and hurrying both Helen and Katy to the -carriage as if some horrible dragon had been on their track. - -There was _no_ baggage in the hall; there had been no woman there, and -Wilford’s fears for a time subsided, but grew strong again about the -time he knew the opera was out, while the sound of wheels coming towards -his door was sufficient to make his heart stop beating, and every hair -prickle at its roots. - -But Aunt Betsy did not come except in Wilford’s dreams, which she -haunted the entire night, so that the morning found him tired, moody and -cross. That day they entertained a select dinner party, and as this was -something in which Katy excelled, while Helen’s presence, instead of -detracting from, would add greatly to the éclat of the affair, Wilford -had anticipated it with no small degree of complacency. But now, alas, -there was a phantom at his side,—a skeleton of horror, wearing Aunt -Betsy’s guise; and if it had been possible he would have given the -dinner up. But it was too late for that; the guests were bidden, the -arrangements made, and there was nothing now for him but to abide the -consequences. - -“She shall at least stay in her room, if I have to lock her in,” he -thought, as he went down to his office without kissing Katy or bidding -her good-by. - -Business that day had no interest for him, and in a listless, absent way -he sat watching the passers-by and glancing at his door as if he -expected the first assault to be made there. Then, as the day wore on, -and he felt sure that what he so much dreaded had really come to pass, -that the baggage expected last night had certainly arrived by this time -and spread itself over his house, he could endure the suspense no -longer, and startled Mark with the announcement that he was going home, -and should not return again that day. - -“Going home, when Leavit is to call at three!” Mark said, in much -surprise, and feeling that it would be a relief to unburden himself to -some one, the story came out that Wilford had seen Aunt Betsy at the -opera, and expected to find her at Madison Square. - -“I wish I had answered her letter about that confounded sheep-pasture,” -he said, “for I would rather give a thousand dollars—yes, ten -thousand—than have her with us to-day. I did _not_ marry my wife’s -relations,” he continued, excitedly, adding, as Mark looked quickly up, -“Of course I don’t mean Helen. Neither do I mean that doctor, for he is -a gentleman. But this Barlow woman—oh! Mark, I am all of a dripping -sweat just to think of it.” - -He did not say what he intended doing, but with Mark Ray’s ringing laugh -in his ears, passed into the street, and hailing a stage was driven -towards home, just as a down town stage deposited on the walk in front -of his office “that Barlow woman” and Mattie Tubbs! - - - - - CHAPTER XXVI. - AUNT BETSY CONSULTS A LAWYER. - - -Aunt Betsy did not rest well after her return from the opera. Novelty -and excitement always kept her awake, and her mind was not wholly at -ease with regard to what she had done. Not that she really felt she had -committed a sin, except so far as the example might be bad, but she -feared the result, should it ever reach the Orthodox church at -Silverton. - -“There’s no telling what Deacon Bannister would do—send a _subpœna_ -after me, for what I know,” she thought, as she laid her tired head upon -her pillow and went off into a weary state, half way between sleep and -wakefulness, in which operas, play-actors, Katy in full dress, Helen and -Mark Ray, choruses, music by the orchestra, to which she had been guilty -of beating her foot, Deacon Bannister, and the whole offended -brotherhood, with constable and subpœnas, were pretty equally blended -together. - -But with the daylight her fears subsided, and at the breakfast table she -was hardly less enthusiastic over the opera than Mattie herself, -averring, however, that “once would do her, and she had no wish to go -again.” - -The sight of Katy had awakened all the olden intense love she had felt -for her darling, and she could not wait much longer without seeing her. - -“Hannah and Lucy, and amongst ’em, advised me not to come,” she said to -Mrs. Tubbs, “and they hinted that I might not be wanted up there; but -now I’m here I shall go, if I don’t stay more than an hour.” - -“Of course I should,” Mattie answered, herself anxious to stand beneath -Wilford Cameron’s roof, and see Mrs. Wilford at home. “She don’t look as -proud as Helen, and you are her aunt, her blood kin; why shouldn’t you -go there if you like?” - -“I shall—I am going,” Aunt Betsy replied, feeling that to take Mattie -with her was not quite the thing, and not exactly knowing how to manage, -for the girl must of course pilot the way. “I’ll risk it and trust to -Providence,” was her final decision, and so after an early lunch she -started out with Mattie as her escort, suggesting that they visit -Wilford’s office first, and get that affair off her mind. - -At this point Aunt Betsy began to look upon herself as a most hardened -wretch, wondering at the depths of iniquity to which she had fallen. The -opera was the least of her offences, for was she not harboring pride and -contriving how to be rid of ’Tilda Tubbs, as clever a girl as ever -lived, hoping that if she found Wilford he would see her home, and so -save ’Tilda the trouble? Play-houses, pride, vanity, subterfuges and -deceit—it was a long catalogue she would have to confess to Deacon -Bannister, if confess she did, and with a groan the conscience-smitten -woman followed her conductor along the streets, and at last into the -stage which took them to Wilford’s office. - -Broadway was literally jammed that day, and the aid of two policemen was -required to extricate the bewildered countrywoman from the mass of -vehicles and horses’ heads, which took all her sense away. Trembling -like a leaf when Mattie explained that the “two nice men” who had -dragged her to the walk were police officers, and thinking again of the -subpœna, the frightened woman who had escaped such peril, followed up -the two flights of stairs and into Wilford’s office, where she sank -breathless into a chair, while Mark, not in the least surprised, greeted -her cordially, and very soon succeeded in getting her quiet, bowing so -graciously to Mattie when introduced that the poor girl dreamed of him -for many a night, and by day built castles of what might have been had -she been rich, instead of only ’Tilda Tubbs, whose home was on the -Bowery. Why need Aunt Betsy in her introduction have mentioned that -fact? Mattie thought, her cheeks burning scarlet; or why need she -afterwards speak of her as _’Tilda_, who was kind enough to come with -her to the office where she hoped to find Wilford? Poor Mattie, she knew -some things very well, but she had never yet conceived of the -immeasurable distance between herself and Mark Ray, who cared but little -whether her home were on the Bowery or on Murray Hill, after the first -sight which told him what she was. - -“Mr. Cameron has just left the office and will not return to-day,” he -said to Aunt Betsy, asking if _he_ could assist her in any way, and -assuring her of his willingness to do so. - -Aunt Betsy could talk with him better than with Wilford, and was about -to give him the story of the sheep-pasture, in detail, when, motioning -to a side door, he said, “Walk in here, please. You will not be liable -to so many interruptions.” - -“Come, ’Tilda, it’s no privacy,” Aunt Betsy said; but _’Tilda_ felt -intuitively that she was not wanted, and rather haughtily declined, -amusing herself by the window, while Aunt Betsy in the private office -told her troubles to Mark Ray; and received in return the advice to let -the claimant go to law if he chose; he probably would make nothing by -it; even if he did, she would not sustain a heavy loss, according to her -own statement of the value of the land. - -“If I could keep the sweet apple-try, I wouldn’t care,” Aunt Betsy said, -“for the rest ain’t worth a law-suit; though it’s my property, and I -have thought of _willing_ it to Helen, if she ever marries.” - -Here was a temptation which Mark Ray could not resist. Ever since Mrs. -General Reynolds’s party Helen’s manner had puzzled him; but her shyness -only made him more in love than ever, while the rumor of her engagement -with Dr. Morris tormented him continually. Sometimes he believed it, and -sometimes he did not, wishing always that he knew for certain. Here then -was a chance for confirming his fears or for putting them at rest, and -blessing ’Tilda Tubbs for declining to enter his back office, he said in -reply to Aunt Betsy’s “If she ever marries”—“And of course she will. She -is engaged, I believe?” - -“Engaged! _Who to?_ When? Strange she never writ, nor Katy neither,” -Aunt Betsy exclaimed, while Mark, raised to an ecstatic state, replied, -“I refer to Dr. Grant. Haven’t they been engaged for a long time past?” - -“Why—no—indeed,” was the response, and Mark could have hugged the good -old lady, who continued in a confidential tone, “I used to think they’d -make a good match; but I’ve gin that up, and I sometimes mistrust ’twas -Katy Morris wanted. Anyhow; he’s mighty changed since she was married, -and he never speaks her name. I never heard anybody say so, and maybe -it’s all a fancy, so you won’t mention it.” - -“Certainly not,” Mark replied, drawing nearer to her, and continuing in -a low tone, “Isn’t it possible that after all Helen is engaged to her -cousin, and you do not know it?” - -“No,” and Aunt Betsy grew very positive. “I am sure she ain’t, for only -t’other day I said to Morris that I wouldn’t wonder if Helen and -_another chap_ had a hankerin’ for one another; and he said he wished it -might be so, for _you_—no, that _other chap_, I mean—would make a -splendid husband,” and Aunt Betsy turned very red at the blunder, which -made Mark Ray feel as if he walked on air, with no obstacle whatever in -his way. - -Still he could not be satisfied without probing her a little deeper, and -so he said, “And that _other chap_? Does he live in Silverton?” - -Aunt Betsy’s look was a sufficient answer; for the old lady knew he was -quizzing her, just as she felt that in some way she had removed a -stumbling-block from his path. She had,—a very large stumbling-block, -and in the first flush of his joy and gratitude he could do most -anything. So when she spoke of going up to Katy’s he set himself -industriously at work to prevent it for that day at least. “They were to -have a large dinner party,” he said, “and both Mrs. Cameron and Miss -Lennox would be wholly occupied. Would it not be better to wait until -to-morrow? Did she contemplate a long stay in New York?” - -“No, she might go back to-morrow,—certainly the day after,” Aunt Betsy -replied, her voice trembling at this fresh impediment thrown in the way -of her seeing Katy. - -The quaver in her voice touched Mark’s sympathy. “She was old and -simple-hearted. She was Helen’s aunt,” and this, more than aught else, -helped him to a decision. “She must be homesick in the Bowery; he would -take her to his mother’s and keep her until the morrow, and perhaps -until she left for home; telling Helen, of course, and then suffering -her to act accordingly.” - -This he proposed to his client; assuring her of his mother’s entire -willingness to receive her, and urging so many reasons why she should go -there, instead of “up to Katy’s,” where they were in such confusion, -that Aunt Betsy was at last persuaded, and was soon riding up town in a -Twenty-third Street stage, with Mark Ray her _vis-à-vis_, and Mattie at -her right. Why Mattie was there Mark could not conjecture; and perhaps -she did not know herself, unless it were that, disappointed in her call -on Mrs. Cameron, she vaguely hoped for some redress by calling on Mrs. -Banker. How then was she chagrined, when, as the stage left them at a -handsome brown-stone front, near Fifth Avenue Hotel, Mark said to her, -as if she were not of course expected to go in, “Please tell your mother -that Miss Barlow is stopping with Mrs. Banker to-day. Has she baggage at -your house? If so, we will send round for it at once. Your number, -please?” - -His manner was so off hand and yet; so polite that Mattie could neither -resist him, nor be angry, though there was a pang of disappointment at -her heart as she gave the required number, and then shook Aunt Betsy’s -hand, whispering in a choked voice, - -“You’ll come to us again before you go home?” - -With a good-bye to Mark, whose bow atoned for a great deal, Mattie -walked slowly away, leaving Mark greatly relieved. Aunt Betsy was as -much as he cared to have on his hands at once, and as he led her up the -steps, he began to wonder more and more what his mother would say to his -bringing that stranger into her house, unbidden and unsought. - -“I’ll tell her the truth,” was his rapid decision, and assuming a manner -which warned the servant who answered his ring neither to be curious nor -impertinent, he conducted his charge into the parlor, and bringing her a -chair before the grate, went in quest of his mother, who he found was -out. - -“Kindle a fire then in the front guest-chamber,” he said, “and see that -it is made comfortable as soon as possible.” - -The servant bowed in acquiescence, wondering _who_ had come, and feeling -not a little surprised at the description given by John of the woman he -had let into the house, and who now in the parlor was looking around her -in astonishment and delight, condemning herself for the feeling of -homesickness with which she remembered the Bowery, and contrasting her -“cluttered quarters” there with the elegance around her. “Was Katy’s -house as fine as this?” she asked herself, feeling intuitively that such -as she might be out of place in it, just as she began to fear she was -out of her place here, bemoaning the fact that she had forgotten her -_cap-box_, with its contents, and so could not remove her bonnet, as she -had nothing with which to cover her gray head. - -“What shall I do?” she was asking herself, when Mark appeared, -explaining that his mother was absent, but would be at home in a short -time. - -“Your room will soon be ready,” he continued, “and meantime you might -lay aside your wrappings here if you find them too warm.” - -There was something about Mark Ray which inspired confidence, and in her -extremity Aunt Betsy gasped, “I can’t take off my bunnet till I get my -caps, down to Mr. Tubbses. Oh, what a trouble I be.” - -Not exactly comprehending the nature of the difficulty, Mark suggested -that she go without a cap until he could send for them; but Aunt Betsy’s -assertion that “she was grayer than a rat,” enlightened him with regard -to her dilemma, and full permission was given for her “to sit in her -bonnet” until such time as a messenger could go to the Bowery and back. -In this condition she was better in her own room, and as it was in -readiness, Mark conducted her to it, the stern gravity of his face -putting down the laugh which sprang to the waiting-maid’s eyes at the -old lady’s ejaculations of surprise that anything could be so fine as -the house where she so unexpectedly found herself a guest. - -“She is unaccustomed to the city, but a particular friend of mine; so -see that you treat her with respect,” was all the explanation he -vouchsafed to the curious girl. - -But that was enough. A friend of Mr. Ray’s must be somebody, even if she -sat with two bonnets on instead of one, and appeared ten times more -rustic than Aunt Betsy, who breathed freer when she found herself alone -up stairs, and knew her baggage would soon be there. - -In some little trepidation Mark paced up and down the parlor waiting for -his mother, who came ere long, expressing her surprise to find him -there, and asking if anything had happened that he seemed so agitated. - -“Yes, I’m in a deuced scrape,” he answered, coming up to her with the -saucy, winning smile she could never resist, and continuing, “To begin -at the foundation, you know how much I am in love with Helen Lennox?” - -“No, I don’t,” was the reply, as Mrs. Banker removed her fur with the -most provoking coolness. “How should I know when you have never told -me?” - -“Haven’t you eyes? Can’t you see? Don’t you like her yourself?” - -“Yes, very much.” - -“And are you willing she should be your daughter?” - -Mark had his arm around his mother’s neck, and bending his face to hers, -kissed her playfully as he asked her the last question. - -“Say, mother, are you willing I should marry Helen Lennox?” - -There was a struggle in Mrs. Banker’s heart, and for a moment she felt -jealous of the girl who she had guessed was dearer to her son than ever -his mother could be again; but she was a sensible woman. She knew that -it was natural for another and a stronger love to come between her and -her boy. She liked Helen Lennox. She was willing to take her as a -daughter, and she said so at last, and listened half amazed and half -amused to the story which had in it so much of Aunt Betsy Barlow, at -that very moment an occupant of their best guest-chamber, waiting for -her cap from the Bowery. - -“Perhaps it was wrong to bring her home,” he added, “but I did it to -spare Helen. I knew what a savage Wilford would be if he found her -there. Say, mother, was I wrong?” - -He was not often wrong in his mother’s estimation, and certainly he was -not now, when he kissed her so often, begging her to say he had done -right. - -“Certainly he had. Mrs. Banker was very glad to find him so thoughtful; -few young men would do as much,” she said, and from feeling a little -doubtful, Mark came to look upon himself as a very nice young man, who -had done a most unselfish act, for of course he had not been influenced -by any desire to keep Aunt Betsy from the people who would be present at -the dinner, neither had Helen been at all mixed up in the affair. - -It was all himself, and he began to whistle “Annie Laurie” very -complacently, thinking the while what a clever fellow he was, and -meditating other generous acts towards the old lady overhead, who was -standing by the window, and wondering what the huge building could be -gleaming so white in the fading sunlight. - -“Looks as if it was made of stone cheena,” she thought, just as Mrs. -Banker appeared, her kind, friendly manner making Aunt Betsy feel wholly -at ease, as she answered the lady’s questions or volunteered remarks of -her own. - -Mrs. Banker had lived in the country, and had seen just such women as -Aunt Betsy Barlow, understanding her intrinsic worth, and knowing how -Helen Lennox, though her niece, could still be refined and cultivated. -She could also understand how one educated as Wilford Cameron had been, -would shrink from coming in contact with her, and possibly be rude if -she thrust herself upon him. Mark did well to bring her here, she -thought, as she left the room to order the tea which the tired woman so -much needed. The satchel, umbrella, and cap-box, with a note from -Mattie, had by this time arrived, and in her Sunday cap, with the purple -bows, Aunt Betsy felt better, and enjoyed the tempting little supper, -served on silver and Sèvres china, the attendant waiting in the hall -instead of in her room, where her presence might embarrass one -unaccustomed to such usages. They were very kind, and had Mark been her -own son he could not have been more deferential than he appeared when -just before starting for the dinner he went up to see her, asking what -message he should take to Helen. Mrs. Banker, too, came in, her dress -eliciting many compliments from her guest, who ventured to ask the price -of the diamond pin which fastened the point lace collar. Five hundred -dollars seemed an enormous sum, but Aunt Betsy was learning not to say -all she thought, and merely remarked that Katy had some diamonds too, -which she presumed cost full much as that. - -“She should do very well alone,” she said; “she could read her Bible, -and if she got too tired, go to bed,” and with a good-bye she sent them -away, after saying to Mrs. Banker, “Maybe you ain’t the kissin’ kind, -but if you be, I wish you would kiss Katy once for me.” - -There was a merry twinkle in Mark’s eyes as he asked, - -“And Helen too?” - -“I meant your marm, not you,” Aunt Betsy answered; while Mrs. Banker -raised her hand to her mischievous son, who ran lightly down the stairs, -carrying a happier heart than he had known since Helen Lennox first came -to New York, and he met her at the depot. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVII. - THE DINNER PARTY. - - -It was a very select party which Wilford Cameron entertained that -evening; and as the carriages rolled to his door and deposited the -guests, the cloud which had been lifting ever since he came home and -found “no Barlow woman” there, disappeared, leaving him the blandest, -most urbane of hosts, pleased with everybody—himself, his guests, his -sister-in-law, and his wife, who had never looked better than she did -to-night, in pearls and light blue silk, which harmonized so perfectly -with her wax-like complexion. Aunt Betsy’s proximity was wholly -unsuspected, both by her and Helen, who was very handsome, in crimson -and black, with lilies in her hair. Nothing could please Mark better -than his seat at table, where he could look into her eyes, which dropped -so shyly whenever they met his gaze. Helen was beginning to doubt the -story of his engagement with Juno. Certainly she could not mistake the -nature of the attentions he paid to her, especially to-night, when he -hovered continually near her, totally ignoring Juno’s presence, and -conscious apparently of only one form, one face, and that the face and -form of Helen Lennox. - -There was another, too, who felt the influence of Helen’s beauty, and -that was Lieutenant Bob, who, after dinner, attached himself to her -side, while around them gathered quite a group, all listening with peals -of laughter as Bob related his adventure of two days before, with “the -most rustic and charming old lady it was ever his fortune to meet.” Told -by Bob the story lost nothing of its freshness; for every particular, -except indeed the kindness he had shown her, was related, even to the -_sheep-pasture_, about which she was going to New York to consult a -lawyer. - -“I thought once of referring her to you, Mr. Cameron,” Bob said; “but -couldn’t find it in my heart to quiz her, she was so wholly -unsuspicious. You have not seen her, have you?” - -“No,” came faintly from the lips which tried to smile; but Wilford knew -who was the heroine of that story; wondering more and more where she -was, and feeling a sensation of uneasiness, as he thought, “Can any -accident have befallen her?” - -It was hardly probable; but Wilford felt very uncomfortable after -hearing the story, which had brought a pang of doubt and fear to another -mind than his. From the very first Helen feared that Aunt Betsy was the -“odd woman” who had gotten upon the train at some station which Bob -could not remember; while, as the story progressed, she was sure of it, -for she had heard of the sheep-pasture trouble, and of Aunt Betsy’s -projected visit to New York, privately writing to her mother not to -suffer it, as Wilford would be greatly vexed. “Yes, it must be Aunt -Betsy,” she thought, and she turned so white that Mark, who was watching -both her and Wilford, came as soon as possible to her side, and adroitly -separating her from the group around, said softly, “You look tired, Miss -Lennox. Come with me a moment. I have something to tell you.” - -Alone with her in the hall, he continued, “I have the sequel of Bob -Reynolds’s story. That woman——” - -“Was Aunt Betsy,” Helen gasped. “But where is she now? That was two days -ago. Tell me if you know. Mr. Ray, you _do_ know,” and in an agony of -fear lest something dreadful had happened, she laid her hand on Mark’s, -beseeching him to tell her if he knew where Aunt Betsy was. - -It was worth torturing her for a moment to see the pleading look in her -eyes, and feel the soft touch of the hand which he took between both his -own, holding it there while he answered her: “Aunt Betsy is at my house; -kidnapped by me for safe keeping, until I could consult with you. Was -that right?” he asked, as a flush came to Helen’s cheek, and an -expression to her eye which told that his meaning was understood. - -“Is she there willingly? How did it happen?” was Helen’s reply, her hand -still in those of Mark, who, thus circumstanced, grew very warm and -eloquent with the sequel to Bob’s story, making it as long as possible, -telling what he knew, and also what he had done. - -He had not implicated Wilford in any way; but Helen read it all, saying -more to herself than him, “And _she_ was at the opera. Wilford must have -seen her, and that is why he left so suddenly, and why he has appeared -so absent and nervous to-day, as if expecting something. Excuse me,” she -suddenly added, drawing her hand away and stepping back a little, “I -forgot that I was talking as if _you_ knew.” - -“I do know more than you suppose—that is, I know human nature—and I know -Will better than I did that morning when I first met you,” Mark said, -glancing at the freed hand he wished so much to take again. - -But Helen kept her hands to herself, and answered him, - -“You did right under the circumstances. It would have been unpleasant -for us all had she happened here to-night. I thank you, Mr. Ray—you and -your mother, too—more than I can express. I will see her early to-morrow -morning. Tell her so, please, and again I thank you.” - -There were tears in Helen’s soft brown eyes, and they glittered like -diamonds as she looked even more than spoke her thanks to the young man, -who, for another look like that, would have driven Aunt Betsy amid the -gayest crowd that ever frequented the Park, and sworn she was his blood -relation! A few words from Mrs. Banker confirmed what Mark had said, and -it was not strange if that night Miss Lennox, usually so entertaining, -was a little absent, for her thoughts were up in that chamber on -Twenty-third Street, where Aunt Betsy sat alone, but not lonely, for her -mind was very busy with all she had been through since leaving -Silverton, while something kept suggesting to her that it would have -been wiser and better to have stayed at home than to have ventured where -she was so sadly out of place. This last came gradually to Aunt Betsy as -she thought the matter over, and remembered Wilford as he had appeared -each time he came to Silverton. - -“I ain’t like him; I ain’t like this Miss Banker; I ain’t like anybody,” -she whispered. “I’m nothin’ but a homely, old-fashioned woman, without -larnin’, without nothin’. I might know I wasn’t wanted,” and a rain of -tears fell over the wrinkled face as she uttered this tirade against -herself, standing before the long mirror, and inspecting the image it -gave back of a plain, unpolished countrywoman, not much resembling Mrs. -Banker, it must be confessed, nor much resembling the gay young ladies -she had seen at the opera the previous night. “I won’t go near Katy,” -she continued; “it would only mortify her, and I don’t want to make her -trouble. The poor thing’s face looked as if she had it now, and I won’t -add to it. I’ll start for home to-morrow. There’s Miss Smith, in -Springfield, will keep me over night, and Katy shan’t be bothered.” - -When this decision was reached, Aunt Betsy felt a great deal better, and -taking the Bible from the table, she sat down again before the fire, -opening, as by a special Providence, to the chapter where the hewers of -wood and drawers of water are mentioned as being necessary to mankind, -each filling his appointed place. - -“That’s me—that’s Betsy Barlow,” she whispered, taking off her glasses -to wipe away the moisture gathering so fast upon them. Then resuming -them, she continued, “I’m a hewer of wood—a drawer of water. God made me -so, and shall the clay find fault with the potter, for making it into a -homely jug? No, indeed; and I was a very foolish old jug to think of -sticking myself in with the china ware. But I’ve larnt a lesson,” and -the philosophic old woman read on, feeling comforted to know that though -a vessel of the rudest make, a paltry _jug_, as she called herself, the -promises were still for her as much as for the finer wares—aye, that -there was more hope of her entering at last where “the walls are all of -precious stones and the streets are paved with gold,” than of those -whose good things are given so abundantly during their lifetime. - -Assured, comforted, and encouraged, she fell asleep at last, and when -Mrs. Banker returned she found her slumbering quietly in her chair, the -Bible open on her lap, and her finger upon the passage referring to the -hewers of wood and drawers of water, as if that was the last thing read. - -Next morning, at a comparatively early hour, Helen stood ringing the -bell of Mrs. Banker’s house. She had said to Katy that she was going -out, and could not tell just when she might return, and as Katy never -questioned her acts, while Wilford was too intent upon his own miserable -thoughts as to “where Aunt Betsy could be, or what had befallen her,” to -heed any one else, no inquiries were made, and no obstacles put in the -way of her going direct to Mrs. Banker’s, where Mark met her himself, -holding her cold hand until he led her to the fire and placed her in a -chair. He knew she would rather meet her aunt alone, and so when he -heard her step in the hall he left the room, holding the door for Aunt -Betsy, who wept like a little child at the sight of Helen, accusing -herself of being a fool, who ought to be shut up in an insane asylum, -but persisting in saying she was going home that very day without seeing -Katy at all. “If she was here I’d like it, but I shan’t go there, for I -know Wilford don’t want me.” Then she told Helen all she did not already -know of her trip to New York, her visit to the opera, her staying with -the Tubbses and her meeting with Mark, the best young chap she ever saw, -not even excepting Morris. “If he was my own son he couldn’t be kinder,” -she added, “and I mistrust he hopes to be my nephew. You can’t do -better; and, if he offers, take him.” - -Helen’s cheeks were crimson as she waived this part of the conversation, -and wished aloud that she had come around in the carriage, as she could -thus have taken Aunt Betsy over the city before the train would leave. - -“Mark spoke of that when he heard I was going to-day,” Aunt Betsy said; -“I’ll warrant you he’ll attend to it.” - -Aunt Betsy was right, for when Mark and his mother joined their guests, -and learned that Aunt Betsy’s intention was unchanged, he suggested the -ride, and offered the use of their carriage. Helen did not decline the -offer, and ere a half hour had passed, Aunt Betsy, with her satchel, -umbrella, and cap-box, was comfortably adjusted in Mrs. Banker’s -carriage with Helen beside her, while Mark bade his coachman drive -wherever Miss Lennox wished to go, taking care to reach the train in -time. - -They were tearful thanks which Aunt Betsy gave to her kind friends as -she was driven away to the Bowery to say good-bye, lest the Tubbses -should “think her suddenly stuck up.” - -“Would you mind taking ’Tilda in? It would please her mightily,” Aunt -Betsy whispered, as they were alighting in front of Mr. Peter Tubbs’s; -and as the result of this suggestion, the carriage, when again it -emerged into Broadway, held Mattie Tubbs, prouder than she had been in -all her life before, while the gratified mother at home felt amply -repaid for all the trouble her visitor had made her. - -And Helen enjoyed it, too, finding Mattie a little insipid and tiresome, -but feeling happy in the consciousness that she was making others happy. -It was a long drive they took, and Aunt Betsy saw so much that her brain -grew giddy, and she was glad when they started for the depot, taking -Madison Square on the way, and passing Katy’s house. - -“I dare say it’s all grand and smart,” Aunt Betsy said, as she leaned -out to look at it, “but I feel best at _hum_, where they are used to -me.” - -And her face did wear a brighter look, when finally seated in the cars, -than it had before since she left Silverton. - -“You’ll be home in April, and maybe Katy’ll come too,” she whispered as -she kissed Helen good-bye, and shook hands with Mattie Tubbs, charging -her again never to let the folks in Silverton know that “Betsy Barlow -had been seen at a play-house.” - -Slowly the cars moved away, and Helen was driven home, leaving Mattie -alone in her glory as she rolled down the Bowery, enjoying the éclat of -her position, but feeling a little chagrined at not meeting a single -acquaintance by whom to be envied and admired. - -Katy did not ask where Helen had been, for she was wholly absorbed in -Marian Hazelton’s letter, telling how fast the baby improved, how pretty -it was growing, and how fond both she and Mrs. Hubbell were of it, -loving it almost as well as if it were their own. - -“I know now it was best for it to go, but it was hard at first,” Katy -said, putting the letter away, and sighing wearily as she missed the -clasp of the little arms and touch of the baby lips. - -Several times Helen was tempted to tell her of Aunt Betsy’s visit, but -decided finally not to do so, and Katy never knew what it was which for -many days made Wilford so nervous and uneasy, starting at every sudden -ring, going often to the window, and looking out into the street as if -expecting some one, while he grew strangely anxious for news from -Silverton, asking when Katy had heard from home, and why she did not -write. One there was, however, who knew, and who enjoyed watching -Wilford, and guessing just how his anxiety grew as day after day went -by; and she neither came nor was heard from in any way, for Helen did -not show the letter apprising her of Aunt Betsy’s safe arrival home, and -so all in Wilford’s mind was vague conjecture. - -She _had_ been in New York, as was proven by Bob Reynolds, but where was -she now, and who were those people with her? Had they entrapped her into -some snare, and possibly murdered her? Such things were not of rare -occurrence, and Wilford actually grew thin with the uncertainty which -hung over the fate of one whom in his present state of mind he would -have warmly welcomed to his fireside, had there been a dozen dinner -parties in progress. At last, as he sat one day in his office, with the -same worried look on his face, Mark, who had been watching him, said, - -“By the way, Will, how did that sheep-pasture come out, or didn’t the -client appear?” - -“Mark,” and Wilford’s voice was husky with emotion; “you’ve stumbled -upon the very thing which is tormenting my life out of me. Aunt Betsy -has never turned up or been heard from since that night. For aught I -know she was murdered, or spirited away, and I am half distracted. I’d -give a thousand dollars to know what has become of her.” - -“Put down half that pile and I’ll tell you,” was Mark’s _nonchalant_ -reply, while Wilford, seizing his shoulder, and compelling him to look -up, exclaimed, - -“You know, then? Tell me—you do know. Where is she?” - -“Safe in Silverton, I presume,” was the reply, and then Mark told his -story, to which Wilford listened, half incredulous, half indignant, and -a good deal relieved. - -“You are a splendid fellow, Mark, though I must say you _meddled_, but I -know you did not do it unselfishly. Perhaps with Katy not won I might do -the same. Yes, on the whole, I thank you and Helen for saving me that -mortification. I feel like a new man, knowing the old lady is safe at -home, where I trust she will remain. And that Tom, who called here -yesterday, asking to be our clerk, is the youth I saw at the opera. I -thought his face was familiar. Let him come, of course. In my gratitude -I feel like patronizing the entire Tubbs family.” - -And so it was this flash of gratitude for a peril escaped which procured -for young _Tom Tubbs_ the situation of clerk in the office of Cameron & -Ray, the application for such situation having been urged by the -ambitious Mattie, who felt her dignity considerably increased when she -could speak of brother Tom in company with Messrs. Cameron and Ray. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVIII. - THE SEVENTH REGIMENT. - - -Does the reader remember the pleasant spring days when the thunder of -Fort Sumter’s bombardment came echoing up the Northern hills and across -the Western prairies, stopping for a moment the pulses of the nation, -but quickening them again with a mighty power as from Maine to -California man after man arose to meet the misguided foe trailing our -honored flag in the dust? Nowhere, perhaps, was the excitement so great -or the feeling so strong as in New York, when the Seventh Regiment was -ordered to Washington, its members never faltering or holding back, but -with a nerving of the will and a putting aside of self, preparing to do -their duty. Conspicuous among them was Mark Ray, who, laughing at his -mother’s fears, kissed her livid cheek, and then with a pang remembered -Helen—wondering how she would feel, and thinking the path to danger -would be so much easier if he knew that her prayers would go with him, -shielding him from harm and bringing him back again to the sunshine of -her presence. - -And before he went Mark must know this for certain, and he chided -himself for having put it off so long. True she had been sick and -confined to her room for a long while after Aunt Betsy’s memorable -visit; and when she was able to go out, _Lent_ had put a stop to her -mingling in festive scenes, so that he had seen but little of her, and -had never met her alone. But he would write that very day. She knew, of -course, that he was going. She would say that he did well to go; and she -would answer _yes_ to the question he would ask her. Mark felt sure of -that; but still the letter he wrote was eloquent with his pleadings for -her love, while he confessed his own, and asked that she would give him -the right to think of her as his affianced bride—to know she waited for -his return, and would crown it at last with the full fruition of her -priceless love. - -“I meet a few of my particular friends at Mrs. Grandon’s to-night,” he -added, in conclusion. “Can I hope to see you there, taking your presence -as a token that I may speak and tell you in words what I have so poorly -written?” - -This note he would not trust to the post, but deliver himself, and thus -avoid the possibility of a mistake, he said; and half an hour later he -rang the bell at No.——, asking “if _Miss Lennox_ was at home.” She was; -and handing the girl the note, Mark ran down the steps, while the -servant carried the missive to the library, where upon the table lay -other letters received that morning, and as yet unopened; for Katy was -very busy, and Helen was dressing to go out with Juno Cameron, who had -graciously asked her to drive with her and look at a picture she had set -her heart on having. - -Juno had not yet appeared; but Mark was scarcely out of sight when she -came in with the familiarity of a sister, and entered the library to -wait. Carelessly turning the books upon the table, she stumbled upon -Mark’s letter, which, through some defect in the envelope, had become -unsealed, and lay with its edge lifted so that to peer at its contents -was a very easy matter had she been so disposed. But Juno, who knew the -handwriting—could not at first bring herself even to touch what was -intended for her rival. But as she gazed the longing grew, until at last -she took it in her hand, turning it to the light, and tracing distinctly -the words, “My dear Helen,” while a storm of pain and passion swept over -her, mingled with a feeling of shame that she had let herself down so -far. - -“It does not matter now,” the tempter whispered. “You may as well read -it and know the worst. Nobody will suspect it,” and she was about to -take the folded letter from the envelope, intending to replace it after -it was read, when a rapid step warned her some one was coming, and -hastily thrusting the letter in her pocket, she dropped her veil to -cover her confusion, and then confronted _Helen Lennox_, ready for the -drive, and unconscious of the wrong which could not then be righted. - -Juno did not mean to keep the letter, and all that morning she was -devising measures for making restitution, thinking once to confess the -whole, but shrinking from that as more than she could do. As they were -driving home, they met Mark Ray; but Helen, who chanced to be looking in -an opposite direction, did not see the earnest look of scrutiny he gave -her, scarcely heeding Juno, whose voice trembled as she spoke of him to -Helen and his intended departure. Helen observed the tremor in her -voice, and pitied the girl whose agitation she fancied arose from the -fact that her lover was so soon to go where danger and possibly death -was waiting. In Helen’s heart, too, there was a pang whenever she -remembered Mark, and what had so recently passed between them, raising -hopes, which now were wholly blasted. For he _was_ Juno’s, she believed, -and the grief at his projected departure was the cause of that young -lady’s softened and even humble demeanor, as she insisted on Helen’s -stopping at her house for lunch before going home. - -To this Helen consented—Juno still revolving in her mind how to return -the letter, which grew more and more a horror to her. It was in her -pocket, she knew, for she had felt it there when, after lunch, she went -to her room for a fresh handkerchief. She would accompany Helen -home,—would manage to slip into the library alone, and put it partly -under a book, so that it would appear to be hidden, and thus account for -its not having been seen before. This seemed a very clever plan, and -with her spirits quite elated, Juno drove round with Helen, finding no -one in the parlor below, and felicitating herself upon the fact that -Helen left her alone while she ran up to Katy. - -“Now is my time,” she thought, stealing noiselessly into the library and -feeling for the letter. - -But _it was not there_, and no amount of search, no shaking of -handkerchiefs, or turning of pocket inside out could avail to find it. -The letter was lost, and in the utmost consternation Juno returned to -the parlor, appearing so abstracted as scarcely to be civil when Katy -came down to see her; asking if she was going that night to Sybil -Grandon’s, and talking of the dreadful war, which she hoped would not be -a war after all. Juno was too wretched to talk, and after a few moments -she started for home, hunting in her own room and through the halls, but -failing in her search, and finally giving it up, with the consoling -reflection that were it found in the street, no suspicion could fasten -on her; and as fear of detection, rather than contrition for the sin, -had been the cause of her distress, she grew comparatively calm, save -when her conscience made itself heard and admonished confession as the -only reparation which was now in her power. But Juno could not confess, -and all that day she was absent-minded and silent, while her mother -watched her closely, wondering what connection, if any, there was -between her burning cheeks and the letter she had found upon the floor -in her daughter’s room just after she had left it; the letter, at whose -contents she had glanced, shutting her lips firmly together, as he saw -that her plans had failed, and finally putting the document away, where -there was less hope of its ever finding its rightful owner, than if it -had remained with Juno. Had Mrs. Cameron supposed that Helen had already -seen it, she would have returned it at once; but of this she had her -doubts, after learning that “Miss Lennox did not go up stairs at all.” -Juno, then, must have been the delinquent; and the mother resolved to -keep the letter till some inquiry was made for it at least. - -And so Helen did not guess how anxiously the young man was anticipating -the interview at Sybil Grandon’s, scarcely doubting that she would be -there, and fancying just the expression of her eyes when they first met -his. Alas for Mark, alas for Helen, that both should be so cruelly -deceived. Had the latter known of the loving words sent from the true -heart which longed for some word of hers to lighten the long march and -beguile the tedious days of absence, she would not have said to Katy, -when asked if she was going to Mrs. Grandon’s, “Oh, no; please don’t -urge me. I would so much rather stay at home.” - -Katy would not insist, and so went alone with Wilford to the -entertainment, given to a few young men who seemed as heroes then, when -the full meaning of that word had not been exemplified, as it has been -since in the life so cheerfully laid down, and the heart’s blood poured -so freely, by the tens of thousands who have won a martyr’s and a hero’s -name. With a feeling of chill despair, Mark listened while Katy -explained to Mrs. Grandon, that her sister had fully intended coming in -the morning, but had suddenly changed her mind and begged to be excused. - -“I am sorry, and so I am sure is Mr. Ray,” Sybil said, turning lightly -to Mark, whose white face froze the gay laugh on her lips and made her -try to shield him from observation until he had time to recover himself -and appear as usual. - -How Mark blessed Sybil Grandon for that thoughtful kindness, and how -wildly the blood throbbed through his veins as he thought “She would not -come. She does not care. I have deceived myself in hoping that she did, -and now welcome _war_, welcome anything which shall help me to forget.” - -Mark was very wretched, and his wretchedness showed itself upon his -face, making more than one rally him for what they termed _fear_, while -they tried to reassure him by saying that to the Seventh there could be -no danger after Baltimore was safely passed. This was more than Mark -could bear, and at an early hour he left the house, bidding Katy -good-bye in the hall, and telling her he probably should not see her -again, as he would not have time to call. - -“Not call to say good-bye to Helen,” Katy exclaimed. - -“Helen will not care,” was Mark’s reply, as he hurried away into the -darkness of the night, more welcome in his present state of mind than -the gay scene he had left. - -And this was _all_ Katy had to carry Helen, who had expected to see Mark -once more, to bless him as a sister might bless a brother, speaking to -him words of cheer and bidding him go on to where duty led. But he was -not coming, and she only saw him from the carriage window, as with proud -step and head erect, he passed with his regiment through the densely -crowded streets, where the loud hurrahs of the multitude, which no man -could number, told how terribly in earnest the great city was, and how -its heart was with that gallant band, their pet, and pride, sent forth -on a mission such as it had never had before. But Mark did not see -Helen, and only his mother’s face as it looked when it said, “God bless -my boy,” was clear before his eyes as he moved on through Broadway, and -down Cortlandt street, until the ferry-boat received him, and the crowd -began to disperse. - -Now that Mark was gone, Mrs. Banker turned intuitively to Helen, finding -greater comfort in her quiet sympathy than in the more wordy condolence -offered her by Juno, who, as she heard nothing from _the letter_, began -to lose her fears of detection, and even suffer her friends to rally her -upon the absence of Mark Ray, and the anxiety she must feel on his -account. Moments there were, however, when thoughts of the stolen letter -brought a pang, while Helen’s face was a continual reproach, and she was -glad when, towards the first of May, her rival left New York for -Silverton, where, as the spring and summer work came on, her services -were needed. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIX. - KATY GOES TO SILVERTON. - - -A summer day in Silverton—a soft, bright August day, when the early -rare-ripes by the well were turning their red cheeks to the sun, and the -flowers in the garden were lifting their heads proudly, and nodding to -each other as if they knew the secret which made that day so bright -above all others. Old Whitey, by the hitching-post, was munching at his -oats and glancing occasionally at the covered buggy standing on the -green sward, fresh and clean as water from the pond could make it; the -harness, lying upon a rock, where Katy used to feed the sheep with salt, -and the whip standing upright in its socket, were waiting for the -deacon, who was donning his best suit of clothes, even to a stiff shirt -collar which almost cut his ears, his face shining with anticipations -which he knew would be realized. Katy was really coming home, and in -proof thereof there were behind the house and barn piles of rubbish, -lath and plaster, mouldy paper and broken bricks, the tokens and remains -of the repairing process, which for so long a time had made the -farm-house a scene of dire confusion, driving its inmates nearly -distracted, except when they remembered for whose sake they endured so -much, inhaling clouds of lime, stepping over heaps of mortar, tearing -their dress skirts on sundry nails projecting from every conceivable -quarter, and wondering the while if the masons ever would finish or the -carpenters be gone. - -As a condition on which Katy might be permitted to come home, Wilford -had stipulated an improvement in the interior arrangement of the house, -offering to bear the expense even to the furnishing of the rooms. To -this the family demurred at first, not liking Wilford’s dictatorial -manner, nor his insinuation that their home was not good enough for his -wife. But Helen turned the tide, appreciating Wilford’s feelings better -than the others could do, and urging a compliance with his request. - -“Anything to get Katy home,” she said, and so the chimney was torn away, -a window was cut here and an addition made there, until the house was -really improved with its pleasant, modern parlor and the large airy -bedroom, with bathing-room attached, the whole the idea of Wilford, who -graciously deigned to come out once or twice from New London, where he -was spending a few weeks, to superintend the work and suggest how it -should be done. - -The furniture, too, which he sent on from New York, was perfect in its -kind, and suitable in every respect and Helen enjoyed the settling very -much, and when it was finished it was hard telling which was the more -pleased, she or good Aunt Betsy, who, having confessed in a general kind -of way at a sewing society, that she did go to a play-house, and was not -so very sorry either, except as the example might do harm, had nothing -to fear from New York, and was proportionably happy. At least she would -have been if Morris had not seemed so _off_, as she expressed it, taking -but little interest in the preparations and evincing no pleasure at -Katy’s expected visit. He had been polite to Wilford, had kept him at -Linwood, taking him to and from the depot, but even Wilford had thought -him changed, telling Katy how very sober and grave he had become, rarely -smiling, and not seeming to care to talk unless it were about his -profession or on some religious topic. And Morris _was_ greatly changed. -The wound which in most hearts would have healed by this time, had grown -deeper with each succeeding year, while from all he heard he felt sure -that Katy’s marriage was a sad mistake, wishing sometimes that he had -spoken, and so perhaps have saved her from the life in which she could -not be wholly free. “She would be happier with me,” he had said, with a -sad smile to Helen, when she told him of some things which she had not -mentioned elsewhere, and there were great tears in Morris’s eyes, when -Helen spoke of Katy’s distress, and the look which came into her face -when baby was taken away. Times there were when the silent Doctor, -living alone at Linwood, felt that his grief was too great to bear. But -the deep waters were always forded safely, and Morris’s faith in God -prevailed, so that only a dull heavy pain remained, with the -consciousness that it was no sin to remember Katy as she was remembered -now. Oh how he longed to see her, and yet how he dreaded it, lest poor -weak human flesh should prove inadequate to the sight. But she was -coming home; Providence had ordered that and he accepted it, looking -eagerly for the time, but repressing his eagerness, so that not even -Helen suspected how impatient he was for the day of her return. Four -weeks she had been at the Pequot House in New London, occupying a little -cottage and luxuriating in the joy of having her child with her almost -every day. Country air and country nursing had wrought wonders in the -baby, which had grown so beautiful and bright that it was no longer in -Wilford’s way save as it took too much of Katy’s time, and made her care -less for the gay crowd at the hotel. - -Marian was working at her trade, and never came to the hotel except one -day when Wilford was in New York, but that day sufficed for Katy to know -that after herself it was Marian whom baby loved the best—Marian, who -cared for it even more than Mrs. Hubbell. And Katy was glad to have it -so, especially after Wilford and his mother decided that she must leave -the child in New London while she made the visit to Silverton. - -Wilford did not like her taking so much care of it as she was inclined -to do. It had grown too heavy for her to lift; it was better with Mrs. -Hubbell, he said, and so to the inmates of the farm-house Katy wrote -that baby was not coming. - -They were bitterly disappointed, for Katy’s baby had been anticipated -quite as much as Katy herself, and Aunt Betsy had brought from the -wood-shed chamber a cradle which nearly forty years before had rocked -the deacon’s only child, the little boy, who died just as he had learned -to lisp his mother’s name. As a memento of those days the cradle had -been kept, Katy using it sometimes for her kittens and her dolls, until -she grew too old for that, when it was put away beneath the eaves whence -Aunt Betsy dragged it, scouring it with soap and sand, until it was -white as snow. But it would not be needed, and with a sigh the old lady -carried it back, thinking “things had come to a pretty pass when a woman -who could dance and carouse till twelve o’clock at night was too weakly -to take care of her child,” and feeling a very little awe of Katy who -must have grown so fine a lady. - -But all this passed away as the time drew near when Katy was to come, -and no one seemed happier than Aunt Betsy on the morning when Uncle -Ephraim drove from the door, setting old Whitey into a canter, which, by -the time the “race” was reached, had become a rapid trot, the old man -holding up his reins and looking proudly at the oat-fed animal, speeding -along so fast. - -He did not have long to wait this time, for the train soon came rolling -across the meadow, and while his head was turned towards the car where -he fancied she might be, a pair of arms was thrown impetuously round his -neck, and a little figure, standing on tiptoe, almost pulled him down in -its attempts to kiss him. - -“Uncle Eph! oh, Uncle Eph, I’ve come! I’m here!” a young voice cried; -but the words the deacon would have spoken were smothered by the kisses -pressed upon his lips, kisses which only came to an end when a voice -said rather reprovingly, “There, Katy, that will do. You have almost -strangled him.” - -Wilford had not been expected, and the expression of the deacon’s face -was not a very cordial greeting to the young man who hastened to explain -that he was going directly on to Boston. In his presence the deacon was -not quite natural, but he lifted in his arms his “little Katy-did,” and -looked straight into her face, where there were as yet no real lines of -care, only shadows, which told that in some respects she was not the -same Katy he had parted with two years before. There was a good deal of -the _city_ about her dress and style; and the deacon felt a little -overawed at first; but this wore off as, on their way to the farm-house, -she talked to him in her old, loving manner, and asked questions about -the people he supposed she had forgotten, nodding to everybody she met, -whether she knew them or not, and at last, as the old house came in -sight, hiding her face in a gush of happy tears upon his neck. Scarcely -waiting for old Whitey to stop, but with one leap clearing the wheel, -she threw herself into the midst of the women waiting on the door step -to meet her. It was a joyful meeting, and when the first excitement was -over, Katy inspected the improvements, praising them all and -congratulating herself upon the nice time she was to have. - -“You don’t know what a luxury it is to feel that I can rest,” she said -to Helen. - -“Didn’t you rest at New London?” Helen asked. - -“Yes, some,” Katy replied; “but there were dances every night, or sails -upon the bay, and I had to go, for many of our friends were there, and -Wilford was not willing for me to be quiet.” - -This, then, was the reason why Katy came home so weary and pale, and -craving so much the rest she had not had in more than two years. But she -would get it now, and before the first dinner was eaten some of her old -color came stealing back to her cheeks, and her eyes began to dance just -as they used to do, while her merry voice rang out in silvery peals at -Aunt Betsy’s quaint remarks, which struck her so forcibly from not -having heard them for so long a time. Freed from the restraint of her -husband’s presence, she came back at once to what she was when a young, -careless girl she sat upon the door-steps and curled the dandelion -stalks. She did not do this now, for there were none to curl; but she -strung upon a thread the delicate petals of the phlox growing by the -door, and then bound it as a crown about the head of her mother, who -could not quite recognize her Katy in the elegant Mrs. Wilford Cameron, -with rustling silk, and diamonds flashing on her hands every time they -moved. But when she saw her racing with the old brown goat and its -little kid out in the apple orchard, her head uncovered, and her bright -curls blowing about her face, the feeling disappeared, and she felt that -Katy had indeed come back again. - -Katy had inquired for Morris immediately after her arrival, but in her -excitement she had forgotten him again, until tea was over, when, just -as she had done on the day of her return from Canandaigua, she took her -hat and started on the well-worn path toward Linwood. Airily she tripped -along, her light plaid silk gleaming through the deep green of the trees -and revealing her coming to the tired man sitting upon a little rustic -seat, beneath a chestnut tree, where he once had sat with Katy, and -extracted a _cruel_ sliver from her hand, kissing the place to make it -well as she told him to. She was a child then, a little girl of twelve, -and he was twenty, but the sight of her pure face lifted confidingly to -his had stirred his heart as no other face had stirred it since, making -him look forward to a time when the hand he kissed would be his own, and -his the fairy form he watched so carefully as it expanded day by day -into the perfect woman. He was thinking of that time now, and how -differently it had all turned out, when he heard the bounding step and -saw her coming toward him, swinging her hat in childish abandon, and -warbling a song she had learned from him. - -“Morris, oh, Morris!” she cried, as he ran eagerly forward; “I am so -glad to see you. It seems so nice to be with you once more here in the -dear old woods. Don’t get up—please don’t get up,” she continued, as he -started to rise. - -She was standing before him, a hand on either side of his face, into -which she was looking quite as wistfully as he was regarding her. -Something she missed in his manner, which troubled her; and thinking she -knew what it was she said to him, “Why don’t you kiss me, Morris? You -used to. Ain’t you glad to see me?” - -“Yes, very glad,” he answered, and drawing her down beside him, he -kissed her twice, but so gravely, that Katy was not satisfied at all, -and tears gathered in her eyes as she tried to think what ailed Morris. - -He was very thin, and there were a few white hairs about his temples, so -that, though four years younger than her husband, he seemed to her much -older, quite grandfatherly in fact, and this accounted for the liberties -she took, asking what was the matter, and trying to make him _like her -again_, by assuring him that she was not as vain and foolish as he might -suppose from what Helen had probably told him of her life since leaving -Silverton. “I do not like it at all,” she said. “I am in it, and must -conform; but, oh Morris! you don’t know how much happier I should be if -Wilford were just like you, and lived at Linwood instead of New York. I -should be so happy here with baby all the time.” - -It was well she spoke that name, for Morris could not have borne much -more; but the mention of her child quieted him at once, so that he could -calmly tell her she _was_ the same to him she always had been, while -with his next breath he asked, “Where is your baby, Katy?” adding with a -smile, “I can remember when you were a baby, and I held you in my arms.” - -“Can you really?” Katy said: and as if that remembrance made him older -than the hills, she nestled her curly head against his shoulder, while -she told him of her bright-eyed darling, and as she talked, the -mother-love which spread itself over her girlish face made it more -beautiful than anything Morris had ever seen. - -“Surely an angel’s countenance cannot be fairer, purer than hers,” he -thought, as she talked of the only thing which had a power to separate -her from him, making her seem as a friend, or at most as a beloved -sister. - -A long time they talked together, and the sun was setting ere Morris -rose, suggesting that she go home, as the night dew would soon be -falling. - -“And you are not as strong as you once were,” he added, pulling her -shawl around her shoulders with careful solicitude, and thinking how -slender she had become. - -From the back parlor Helen saw them coming up the path, detecting the -changed expression of Morris’s face, and feeling a pang of fear when, as -he left them after nine o’clock, she heard her mother say that he had -not appeared so natural since Katy went away as he had done that night. -Knowing what she did, Helen trembled for Morris, with this terrible -temptation before him, and Morris trembled for himself as he went back -the lonely path, and stopped again beneath the chestnut tree where he -had so lately sat with Katy. There was a great fear at his heart, and it -found utterance in words as kneeling by the rustic bench with only the -lonely night around him and the green boughs over head, he asked that he -might be kept from sin, both in thought and deed, and be to Katy Cameron -just what she took him for, her friend and elder brother. And God, who -knew the sincerity of the heart thus pleading before him, heard and -answered the prayer, so that after that first night of trial Morris -could look on Katy without a wish that she were otherwise than Wilford -Cameron’s wife and the mother of his child. He was happier because of -her being at the farm-house, though he did not go there one half as -often as she came to him. - -Those September days were happy ones to Katy, who became a child again—a -petted, spoiled child, whom every one caressed and suffered to have her -way. To Uncle Ephraim it was as if some bright angel had suddenly -dropped into his path, and flooded it with sunshine. He was so glad to -have again his “Katy-did,” who went with him to the fields, waiting -patiently till his work was done, and telling him of all the wondrous -things she saw abroad, but speaking little of her city life. That was -something she did not care to talk about, and but for Wilford’s letters, -and the frequent mention of baby, the deacon could easily have imagined -that Katy had never left him. But these were barriers between the old -life and the present; these were the insignia of _Mrs. Wilford Cameron_, -who was watched and envied by the curious Silvertonians, and pronounced -charming by them all. Still there was one drawback to Katy’s happiness. -She missed her child, mourning for it so much that her family, quite as -anxious as herself to see it, suggested her sending for it. It would -surely take no harm with them, and Marian would come with it, if Mrs. -Hubbell could not. To this plan Katy listened more willingly from the -fact that Wilford had gone West, and the greater the distance between -them the more she dared to do. And so Marian Hazelton was one day -startled at the sudden appearance at the cottage of Katy, who had come -to take her and baby to Silverton. - -There was no resisting the vehemence of Katy’s arguments, and before the -next day’s sun-setting, the farm-house, usually so quiet and orderly, -had been turned into one general nursery, where Baby Cameron reigned -supreme, screaming with delight at the _tin_ ware which Aunt Betsy -brought out, from the cake-cutter to the dipper, the little creature -beating a noisy tattoo upon the latter with an iron spoon, and then for -diversion burying its fat dimpled hands in Uncle Ephraim’s long white -hair, for the old man went down upon all fours to do his -great-grand-niece homage. - -That night Morris came up, stopping suddenly as a loud baby laugh -reached him, even across the orchard, and leaning for a moment against -the wall, while he tried to prepare himself for the shock it would be to -see Katy’s child, and hold it in his arms, as he knew he must, or the -mother be aggrieved. - -He had supposed it was pretty, but he was not prepared for the beautiful -little cherub which in its short white dress, with its soft curls of -golden brown clustering about its head, stood holding to a chair, -pushing it occasionally, and venturing now and then to take a step, -while its infantile laugh mingled with the screams of its delighted -auditors, watching it with so much interest. - -There was one great, bitter, burning pang, and then, folding his arms -composedly upon the window sill, Dr. Grant stood looking in upon the -occupants of the room, whistling at last to baby, as he was accustomed -to whistle to the children of his patients. - -“Oh, Morris,” Katy cried, “Baby can almost walk, Marian has taken so -much pains, and she can say ‘papa.’ Isn’t she a beauty?” - -Baby had turned her head by this time, her ear caught by the whistle and -her eye arrested by something in Morris which fascinated her gaze. -Perhaps she thought of Wilford, of whom she had been very fond, for she -pushed her chair towards him and then held up her fat arms for him to -take her. - -Never was mother prouder than Katy during the first few days succeeding -baby’s arrival, while the family seemed to tread on air, so swiftly the -time went by with that active little life in their midst, stirring them -up so constantly, putting to rout all their rules of order and keeping -their house in a state of delightful confusion. It was wonderful how -rapidly the child improved with so many teachers, learning to lisp its -mother’s name and taught by her, attempting to say “Doctor.” From the -very first the child took to Morris, crying after him whenever he went -away, and hailing his arrival with a crow of joy and an eager attempt to -reach him. - -“It was altogether too forward for this world,” Aunt Betsy often said, -shaking her head ominously, but not really meaning what she predicted, -even when for a few days it did not seem as bright as usual, but lay -quietly in Katy’s lap, a blue look about the mouth and a flush upon its -cheeks, which neither Morris nor Marian liked. - -More accustomed to children than the other members of the family, they -both watched it closely, Morris coming over twice one day, and the last -time he came regarding Katy with a look as if he would fain ward off -from her some evil which he feared. - -“What is it, Morris?” she asked. “Is baby going to be very sick?” and a -great crushing fear came upon her as she waited for his answer. - -“I hope not,” he said; “I cannot tell as yet; the symptoms are like -cholera infantum, of which I have several cases, but if taken in time I -apprehend no danger.” - -There was a low shriek and baby opened its heavy lids and moaned, while -Helen came at once to Katy, who was holding her hand upon her heart as -if the pain had entered there. To Marian it was no news, for ever since -the early morning she had suspected the nature of the disease stealing -over the little child. All night the light burned in the farm-house, -where there were anxious, troubled faces, Katy bending constantly over -her darling, and even amid her terrible anxiety, dreading Wilford’s -displeasure when he should hear what she had done and its possible -result. She did not believe as yet that her child would die; but she -suffered acutely, watching for the early dawn when Morris had said he -would be there, and when at last he came, begging of him to leave his -other patients and care only for baby. - -“Would that be right?” Morris asked, and Katy blushed for her -selfishness when she heard how many were sick and dying around them. “I -will spend every leisure moment here,” he said, leaving his directions -with Marian and then hurrying away without a word of hope for the child, -which grew worse so fast that when the night shut down again it lay upon -the pillow, its blue eyes closed and its head thrown back, while its sad -moanings could only be hushed by carrying it in one’s arms about the -room, a task which Katy could not do. - -She had tried it at first, refusing all their offers with the reply, -“Baby is mine, and shall I not carry her?” - -But the feeble strength gave out, the limbs began to totter, and -staggering backward she cried, “Somebody must take her.” - -It was Marian who went forward, Marian, whose face was a puzzle as she -took the infant in her stronger arms, her stony eyes, which had not wept -as yet, fastening themselves upon the face of Wilford Cameron’s child -with a look which seemed to say, “Retribution, retribution.” - -But only when she remembered the father, now so proud of his daughter, -was that word in her heart. She could not harbor it when she glanced at -the mother, and her lips moved in earnest prayer that, if possible, God -would not leave her so desolate. An hour later and Morris came, -relieving Marian of her burden, which he carried in his own arms, while -he strove to comfort Katy, who, crouching by the empty crib, was sitting -motionless in a kind of dumb despair, all hope crushed out by his answer -to her entreaties that he would tell her the truth, and keep nothing -back. - -“I think your baby will die,” he said to her very gently, pausing a -moment in awe of the white face, whose expression terrified him, it was -so full of agony. - -Bowing her head upon her hands, poor Katy whispered sadly, “God must not -take my baby. Oh, Morris, pray that he will not. He will hear and answer -you; I have been so bad I cannot pray, but I am not going to be bad -again. If he will let me keep my darling I will begin a new life. I -_will_ try to serve him. Dear Lord, hear and answer, and not let baby -die.” - -She was praying herself now, and Morris’s broad chest heaved as he -glanced at her kneeling figure, and then at the death-like face upon the -pillow, with the pinched look about the nose and lips, which to his -practiced eye was a harbinger of death. - -“Its father should be here,” he thought, and when Katy lifted up her -head again he asked if she was sure her husband had not yet returned -from Minnesota. - -“Yes, sure—that is, I think he has not,” was Katy’s answer, a chill -creeping over her at the thought of meeting Wilford, and giving him his -daughter dead. - -“I shall telegraph in the morning at all events,” Morris continued, “and -if he is not in New York, it will be forwarded.” - -“Yes, that will be best,” was the reply, spoken so mournfully that -Morris stopped in front of Katy, and tried to reason with her. - -But Katy would not listen, and only answered that _he_ did not know, he -could not feel, he never had been tried. - -“Perhaps not,” Morris said; “but Heaven is my witness, Katy, that if I -could save you this pain by giving up my life for baby’s I would do it -willingly; but God does not give us our choice. He knoweth what is best, -and baby is better with Him than us.” - -For a moment Katy was silent; then, as a new idea took possession of her -mind, she sprang to Morris’s side and seizing his arm, demanded, “Can an -unbaptized child be saved?” - -“We nowhere read that baptism is a saving ordinance,” was Morris’s -answer; while Katy continued, “but _do_ you believe they will be saved?” - -“Yes, I do,” was the decided response, which, however, did not ease -Katy’s mind, and she moaned on, “A child of heathen parents may, but _I_ -knew better. I knew it was my duty to give the child to God, and for a -foolish fancy withheld the gift until it is too late, and God will take -it without the mark upon its forehead, the water on its brow. Oh, baby, -baby, if she should be lost—_no name, no mark, no baptismal sign_.” - -“Not water, but the blood of Jesus cleanseth from all sin,” Morris said, -“and as sure as he died so sure this little one is safe. Besides, there -may be time for the baptism yet—that is, to-morrow. Baby will not die -to-night, and if you like, it still shall have a name.” - -Eagerly Katy seized upon that idea, thinking more of the sign, the -water, than the _name_, which scarcely occupied her thoughts at all. It -did not matter what the child was called, so that it became one of the -little ones in glory, and with a calmer, quieter demeanor than she had -shown that day, she saw Morris depart at a late hour; and then turning -to the child which Uncle Ephraim was holding, kissed it lovingly, -whispering as she did so, “Baby shall be baptized—baby shall have the -sign.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXX. - LITTLE GENEVRA. - - -Morris had telegraphed to New York, receiving in reply that Wilford was -hourly expected home, and would at once hasten on to Silverton. The -clergyman, Mr. Kelly, had also been seen, but owing to a funeral which -would take him out of town, he could not be at the farm-house until five -in the afternoon, when, if the child still lived, he would be glad to -officiate as requested. All this Morris had communicated to Katy, who -listened in a kind of stupor, gasping for breath, when she heard that -Wilford would soon be there, and moaning “that will be too late,” when -told that the baptism could not take place till night. Then kneeling by -the crib where the child was lying, she fastened her great, sad blue -eyes upon the pallid face with an earnestness as if thus she would hold -till nightfall the life flickering so faintly and seeming so nearly -finished. The wailings had ceased, and they no longer carried it in -their arms, but had placed it in its crib, where it lay perfectly still, -save as its eyes occasionally unclosed and turned wistfully towards the -cups, where it knew was something which quenched its raging thirst. Once -indeed, as the hours crept on to noon and Katy bent over it so that her -curls swept its face, it seemed to know her, and the little wasted hand -was uplifted and rested on her cheek with the same caressing motion it -had been wont to use in health. Then hope whispered that it might live, -and with a great cry of joy Katy sobbed, “She knows me, Morris—mother, -see; she knows me. Maybe she will live!” - -But the dull stupor which succeeded swept all hope away, and again Katy -resumed her post, watching first her dying child, and then the long -hands of the clock which crept on so slowly, pointing to only two when -she thought it must be five. Would that hour never come, or coming, -would it find baby there? None could answer that last question—they -could only wait and pray; and as they waited the warm September sun -neared the western sky till its yellow beams came stealing through the -window and across the floor to where Katy sat watching its onward -progress, and looking sometimes out upon the hills where the purplish -autumnal haze was lying just as she once loved to see it. But she did -not heed it now, nor care how bright the day with the flitting shadows -dancing on the grass, the tall flowers growing by the door, and old -Whitey standing by the gate, his head stretched towards the house in a -kind of dreamy, listening attitude, as if he, too, knew of the great -sorrow hastening on so fast. The others saw all this, and it made their -hearts ache more as they thought of the beautiful little child going -from their midst when they wished so much to keep her. Katy had only one -idea, and that was of the child, growing very restless now, and throwing -up its arms as if in pain. It was striking five, and with each stroke -the dying baby moaned, while Katy strained her ear to catch the sound of -horses’ hoofs hurrying up the road. The clergyman had come and the -inmates of the house gathered round in silence, while he made ready to -receive the child into Christ’s flock. - -Mrs. Lennox had questioned Helen about the name, and Helen had answered, -“Katy knows, I presume. It does not matter,” but no one had spoken -directly to Katy, who had scarcely given it a thought, caring more for -the rite she had deferred so long. - -“He must hasten,” she said to Morris, her eyes fixed upon the panting -child she had lifted to her own lap, and thus adjured the clergyman -failed to make the usual inquiry concerning the name he was to give. - -Calm and white as a marble statue, Marian Hazelton glided to the back of -Katy’s chair, and pressing both her hands upon it, leaned over Katy so -that her eyes, too, were fixed upon the little face, from which they -never turned but once, and that when the clergyman’s voice was heard -asking for a _name_. There was an instant’s silence, and Katy’s lips -began to move, when one of Marian’s hands was laid upon her head, while -the other took in its own the limp, white baby fingers, and Marian’s -voice was very steady in its tone as it said, “GENEVRA.” - -“Yes, Genevra,” Katy whispered, and the solemn words were heard, -“_Genevra_, I baptize thee in the name of the Father, the Son, and the -Holy Ghost.” - -Softly the baptismal waters fell upon the pale forehead, and at their -touch the little Genevra’s eyes unclosed, the waxen fingers withdrew -themselves from Marian’s grasp, and again sought the mother’s cheek, -resting there for an instant; while a smile broke around the baby’s -lips, which tried to say “Mam-ma.” Then the hand fell back, down upon -Marian’s, the soft eyes closed, the limbs grew rigid, the shadow of -death grew deeper, and while the prayer was said, and Marian’s tears -fell with Katy’s upon the brow where the baptismal waters were not -dried, the angel came, and when the prayer was ended, Morris, who knew -what the rest did not, took the lifeless form from Katy’s lap, and -whispered to her gently, “Katy, your baby is dead!” - -An hour later, and the sweet little creature, which had been a sunbeam -in that house for a few happy days, lay upon the bed where Katy said it -must be laid; its form shrouded in the christening robe which grandma -Cameron had bought, flowers upon its pillow, flowers upon its bosom, -flowers in its hands, which Marian had put there; for Marian’s was the -mind which thought of everything concerning the dead child; and Helen, -as she watched her, wondered at the mighty love which showed itself in -every lineament of her face, the blue veins swelling in her forehead, -her eyes bloodshot, and her lips shut firmly together, as if it were by -mere strength of will that she kept back the scalding tears as she -dressed the little _Genevra_. They spoke of that name in the kitchen -when the first great shock was over, and Helen explained why it had been -Katy’s choice. - -It was Morris’s task to comfort poor, stricken Katy, telling her of the -blessed Saviour who loved the little children while here on the earth, -and to whom her darling had surely gone. - -“Safe in His arms, it would not come back if it could,” he said, “and -neither would you have it.” - -But Katy was the mother, the human love could not so soon submit, but -went out after the lost one with a piteous, agonizing wail. - -“Oh, I want my baby back. I know she is safe, but I want her back. She -was my life—all I had to love,” Katy moaned, rocking to and fro in this -her first hour of bereavement, “and Wilford will blame me so much for -bringing my baby here to die. He will say it was my fault; and that I -can’t bear. I know I killed my baby; but I did not mean to. I would give -my life for hers, if like her I was ready,” and into Katy’s face there -came a look of fear which Morris failed to understand, not knowing -Wilford as well as Katy knew him. - -At nine o’clock next day there came a telegram. Wilford had reached New -York and would be in Silverton that afternoon, accompanied by Bell. At -this last Marian Hazelton caught as an excuse for what she intended -doing. She could not remain there after Wilford came, nor was it -necessary. Her task was done, or would be when she had finished the -wreath and cross of flowers she was making for the coffin. Laying them -on baby’s pillow, Marian went in quest of Helen, to whom she explained -that as Bell Cameron was coming, and the house would be full, she had -decided upon going to West Silverton, as she wished to see the old lady -with whom she once boarded, and who had been so kind to her. - -“I might stay,” she added, as Helen began to protest, “but you do not -need me. I have done all I can, and would rather go where I can be quiet -for a little.” - -To this last argument there could be no demur, and so the same carriage -which at ten o’clock went for Wilford Cameron carried Marian Hazelton to -the village where she preferred being left. - - * * * * * - -In much anxiety and distress Wilford Cameron read the telegram -announcing baby’s illness. - -“At Silverton!” he said. “How can that be when the child was at New -London?” and he glanced again at the words: - - “Your child is dying at Silverton. Come at once. M. GRANT” - -There could be no mistake, and Wilford’s face grew dark, for he guessed -the truth, censuring Katy much, but censuring her family more. They of -course had encouraged her in the plan of taking her child from New -London, where it was doing so well, and this was the result. Wilford was -proud of his daughter now, and during the few weeks he had been with it, -the little thing had found a strong place in his love. Many times he had -thought of it during his journey West, indulging in bright anticipations -of the coming winter, when he would have it home again. It would not be -in his way now. On the contrary, it would add much to his luxurious -home, and the young father’s heart bounded with thoughts of the -beautiful baby as he had last seen it, crowing its good-bye to him and -trying to lisp his name, its sweet voice haunting him for weeks, and -making him a softer, better man, who did not frown impatiently upon the -little children in the cars, but who took notice of them all, even -laying his hand once on a little curly head which reminded him of -baby’s. - -Alas for him! he little dreamed of the great shock in store for him. The -child was undoubtedly very sick, he said, but that it could die was not -possible; and so, though he made ready to hasten to it, he did not -withhold his opinion of the rashness which had brought it to such peril. - -“Had Katy obeyed _me_ it would not have happened,” he said, pacing up -and down the parlor and preparing to say more, when Bell came to Katy’s -aid, and lighting upon him, asked what he meant by blaming his wife so -much. - -“For my part,” she said, “I think there has been too much fault-finding -and dictation from the very day of the child’s birth till now, and if -God takes it, I shall think it a judgment upon you. First you were vexed -with Katy because it was not a boy, as if she were to blame; then you -did not like it because it was not more promising and fair; next it was -in your way, and so you sent it off, never considering Katy any more -than if she were a mere automaton. Then you must needs forbid her taking -it home to her own family, as if they had no interest in it. I tell you, -Will, it is not _all_ Cameron—there is some Barlow blood in its -veins—Aunt Betsy Barlow’s, too, and you cannot wash it out. Katy had a -right to take her own child where she pleased, and you are not a man if -you censure her for it, as I see in your eyes you mean to do. Suppose it -had stayed in New London and been struck with lightning—_you_ would have -been to blame, of course, according to your own view of things.” - -There was too much truth in Bell’s remarks for Wilford to retort, even -had he been disposed, and he contented himself with a haughty toss of -his head as she left the room to get herself in readiness for the -journey she insisted upon taking. Wilford was glad she was going, as her -presence at Silverton would relieve him of the awkward embarrassment he -always felt when there; and magnanimously forgiving her for the -plainness of her speech, he was the most attentive of brothers until -Silverton was reached and he found Dr. Grant awaiting for him. Something -in his face, as he came forward to meet them, startled both Wilford and -Bell, the latter of whom asked quickly, - -“Is the baby better?” - -“Baby is dead,” was the brief reply, and Wilford staggered back against -the door-post, where he leaned a moment for support in that first great -shock for which he was not prepared. - -Upon the doorstep Bell sat down, crying quietly, for she had loved the -child, and she listened anxiously while Morris repeated the particulars -of its illness and then spoke of Katy’s reproaching herself so bitterly -for having brought it from New London. “She seems entirely crushed,” he -continued, when they were driving towards the farm-house. “For a few -hours I trembled for her reason, while the fear that you might reproach -her added much to the poignancy of her grief.” - -Morris said this very calmly, as if it were not what he had all the -while intended saying, and his eye turned towards Wilford, whose lips -were compressed with the emotion he was trying to control. It was Bell -who spoke first, Bell who said impulsively, “Poor Katy, I knew she would -feel so, but it is unnecessary, for none but a _savage_ would reproach -her now, even if she were in fault.” - -Morris blessed Bell Cameron in his heart, knowing how much influence her -words would have upon her brother, who brushed away the first tear he -had shed, and tried to say that “of course she was not to blame.” - -They were in sight of the farm-house now, and Bell, with her city ideas, -was looking curiously at it, mentally pronouncing it a nicer, pleasanter -place than she had supposed. It was very quiet about the house, and old -Whitey’s neigh as Morris’s span of bays came up was the only sound which -greeted them. In the wood-shed door Uncle Ephraim sat smoking his clay -pipe and likening the feathery waves which curled above his head to the -little soul so recently gone upward; while by his side, upon a log of -wood, holding a pan of the luscious peaches she was slicing up for tea, -sat a woman whom Bell knew at once for Aunt Betsy Barlow, and who, pan -in hand, came forward to meet her, curtsying very low when introduced by -Morris, and asking to be excused from shaking hands, inasmuch as hers -were not fit to be touched. Bell’s quick eye took her in at a glance, -from her clean spotted gown to her plain muslin cap tied with a black -ribbon, put on that day with a view to mourning, and then darted off to -Uncle Ephraim, who won her heart at once when she heard how his voice -trembled as he took Wilford’s hand and said so pityingly, so -father-like, “Young man, this is a sad day for you, and you have my -sympathy, for I remember well how my heart ached when, on just such a -day as this, my only child lay dead as yours is lying.” - -Every muscle of Wilford’s face quivered, but he was too proud to show -all that he felt, and he was glad when Helen appeared in the door, as -that diverted his mind, and he greeted her cordially, stooping down and -kissing her forehead, a thing he had never done before. But sorrow is a -great softener, and Wilford was very sorry, feeling his loss more here, -where everything was so quiet, so suggestive of death. - -“Where is Katy?” he asked. - -“She is sleeping for the first time since the baby died. She is in here -with the child. She will stay nowhere else,” Helen said, opening the -door of the bedroom and motioning Wilford in. - -With hushed breath and a beating heart, Wilford stepped across the -threshold, and Helen closed the door, leaving him alone with the living -and the dead. Pure and beautiful as some fair blossom, the dead child -lay upon the bed, the curls of golden hair clustering about its head, -and on its lips the smile which settled there when it tried to say -“mamma.” Its dimpled hands were folded upon its breast, where lay the -cross of flowers which Marian Hazelton had made. There were flowers upon -its pillow, flowers around its head, flowers upon its shroud, flowers -everywhere, and itself the fairest flower of all, Wilford thought, as he -stood gazing at it and then let his eye move on to where poor, tired, -worn-out Katy had crept up so close beside it that her breath touched -the marble cheek and her own disordered hair rested upon the pillow of -her child. Even in her sleep her tears kept dropping and the pale lips -quivered in a grieved, touching way. Hard indeed would Wilford have been -had he cherished one bitter thought against the wife so wounded. He -could not when he saw her, but no one ever knew just what passed through -his mind during the half hour he sat there beside her, scarcely stirring -and not daring to kiss his child lest he should awaken her. He could -hear the ticking of his watch and the beating of his heart as he waited -for the first sound which should herald’s Katy’s waking. - -Suddenly there was a low, gasping moan, and Katy’s eyes unclosed and -rested on her husband. He was bending over her in an instant, and her -arms were round his neck, while she said to him so sadly, - -“Our baby is dead—you’ve nobody left but me; and oh! Wilford, you will -not blame me for bringing baby here? I did not think she’d die. I’d give -my life for hers if that would bring her back. Would you rather it was -me lying as baby lies, and she here in your arms?” - -“No, Katy,” Wilford answered, and by his voice Katy knew that she was -wholly forgiven, crying on his neck in a plaintive, piteous way, while -Wilford soothed and pitied and caressed, feeling subdued and humbled, -and we must confess it, feeling too how very good and generous he was to -be thus forbearing, when but for Katy’s act of disobedience they might -not now be childless! - - * * * * * - -With a great gush of tears Bell Cameron bent over the little form, and -then enfolded Katy in a more loving embrace than she had ever given her -before; but whatever she might have said was prevented by the arrival of -the coffin, and the confusion which followed. - -Much Wilford regretted that New York was so far away, for a city coffin -was more suitable, he thought, for a child of his, than the one which -Dr. Grant had ordered. But that was really of less consequence than the -question where the child should be buried. A costly monument at -Greenwood was in accordance with his ideas, but all things indicated a -contemplated burial there in the country churchyard, and sorely -perplexed, he called on Bell as the only Cameron at hand, to know what -he should do. - -“Do just as Katy prefers,” was Bell’s reply, as she led him to the -coffin and pointed to the name: “Little Genevra Cameron, aged nine -months and twenty days.” - -“What is it, Wilford—what is the matter?” she asked, as her brother -turned whiter than his child. - -Had “Genevra Lambert, aged 22,” met his eye, he could not have been more -startled than he was; but soon rallying, he said to Morris, - -“The child was baptized, then?” - -“Yes, baptized Genevra. 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. “She will know it is mine at least,” he said, -and with a thoughtful face he went in quest of Katy, whom he found -sobbing by the side of the mourning garments just sent in for her -inspection. - -Wilford was averse to black. It would not become Katy, he feared, and it -would be an unanswerable reason for her remaining closely home for the -entire winter. - -“What’s this?” he asked, lifting the crape veil and dropping it again -with an impatient gesture as Helen replied, “It is Katy’s mourning -veil.” - -Contrary to his expectations, black was becoming to Katy, who looked -like a pure white lily, as, leaning on Wilford’s arm next day, she stood -by the grave where they were burying her child. - -Wilford had spoken to her of Greenwood, but she had begged so hard that -he had given up that idea, suggesting next, as more in accordance with -city custom, that she remain at home while _he_ only followed to the -grave; but from this Katy recoiled in such distress that he gave that -lip too, and bore, magnanimously as he thought, the sight of all the -Barlows standing around that grave, alike mourners with himself, and all -a right to be there. Wilford felt his loss deeply, and his heart ached -to its very core as he heard the gravel rattling down upon the -coffin-lid which covered the beautiful child he had loved so much. But -amid it all he never for a moment forgot that he was _Wilford Cameron_, -and infinitely superior to the crowd around him—except, indeed, his -wife, his sister, Dr. Grant, and Helen. He could bear to see them sorry, -and feel that by their sorrow they honored the memory of his child. But -for the rest—the village herd, with the Barlows in their train—he had no -affinity, and his manner was as haughty and distant as ever as he passed -through their midst back to the carriage, which took him again to the -farm-house. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXI. - AFTER THE FUNERAL. - - -Had there been a train back to New York that afternoon Wilford would -most certainly have suggested going; but as there was none he passed the -time as well as he could, finding Bell a great help to him, but -wondering that she could assimilate so readily with such people, -declaring herself in love with the farm-house, and saying she should -like to remain there for weeks, if the days were all as sunny as this, -the dahlias as gorgeously bright, and the peaches by the well as -delicious and ripe. To these the city girl took readily, visiting them -the last thing before retiring, while Wilford found her there when he -arose next morning, her dress and slippers nearly spoiled with the heavy -dew, and her hands full of the fresh fruit which Aunt Betsy knocked from -the tree with a quilting rod; _her_ dress pinned around her waist, and -disclosing a petticoat scrupulously clean, but patched and mended with -so many different patterns and colors that the original ground was lost, -and none could tell whether it had been red or black, buff or blue. -Between Aunt Betsy and Bell the most amicable feeling had existed ever -since the older lady had told the younger how all the summer long she -had been drying fruit, “thimble-berries, blue-bries, and huckle-berries” -for the soldiers, and how she was now drying peaches for Willard -Buxton—once their hired man. These she should tie up in a _salt bag_, -and put in the next box sent by the society of which she seemed to be -head and front, “kind of fust directress” she said, and Bell was -interested at once, for among the soldiers down by the Potomac was one -who carried with him the whole of Bell Cameron’s heart; and who for a -few days had tarried at just such a dwelling as the farm-house, writing -back to her so pleasant descriptions of it, with its fresh grass and -shadowy trees, that she had longed to be there too. So it was through -this halo of romance and love that Bell looked at the farm-house and its -occupants, preferring good Aunt Betsy because she seemed the most -interested in the soldiers, working as soon as breakfast was over upon -the peaches, and kindly furnishing her best check apron, together with -pan and knife for Bell, who offered her assistance, notwithstanding -Wilford’s warning that the fruit would stain her hands, and his advice -that she had better be putting up her things for going home. - -“She was not going that day,” she said, point blank, and as Katy too had -asked to stay a little longer, Wilford was compelled to yield, and -taking his hat sauntered off toward Linwood; while Katy went listlessly -into the kitchen, where Bell Cameron sat, her tongue moving much faster -than her hands, which pared so slowly and cut away so much of the juicy -pulp, besides making so frequent journeys to her mouth, that Aunt Betsy -looked in alarm at the rapidly disappearing fruit, wishing to herself -that “Miss Camern had not ’listed.” - -But _Miss Camern_ had enlisted, and so had Bob, or rather he had gone to -his duty, and as she worked, she repeated to Helen the particulars of -his going, telling how, when the war first broke out, and Sumter was -bombarded, Bob, who, from long association with Southern men at West -Point, had imbibed many of their ideas, was very sympathetic with the -rebelling States, gaining the cognomen of a secessionist, and once -actually thinking of casting in his lot with that side rather than the -other. But a little incident saved him, she said. The remembrance of a -queer old lady whom he met in the cars, and who, at parting held her -wrinkled hand above his head in benediction, charging him not to go -against the flag, and promising her prayers for his safety if found on -the side of the Union. - -“I wish you could hear Bob tell the story, the funny part I mean,” she -continued, narrating as well as she could the particulars of Lieutenant -Bob’s meeting with Aunt Betsy, who, as the story progressed and she -recognized herself in the queer old Yankee woman, who shook hands with -the conductor and was going to law about a sheep-pasture, dropped her -head lower and lower over her pan of peaches, while a scarlet flush -spread itself all over her thin face, but changed to a grayish white as -Bell concluded with “Bob says the memory of that hand lifted above his -head haunted him day and night, during the period of his uncertainty, -and was at last the means of saving him from treachery to his country.” - -“Thank God!” came involuntarily from Aunt Betsy’s quivering lips, and, -looking up, Bell saw the great tears running down her cheeks, tears -which she wiped away with her arm, while she said faintly, “That old -woman, who made a fool of herself in the cars, was _me_!” - -“You, Miss Barlow, you!” Bell exclaimed, forgetting in her astonishment -to carry to her mouth the luscious half peach she had intended for that -purpose, and dropping it untasted into the pan, while Katy, who had been -listening with considerable interest, came quickly forward saying, “You, -Aunt Betsy! when were you in New York, and why did I never know it?” - -It could not be kept back and, unmindful of Bell, Helen explained to -Katy as well as she could the circumstances of Aunt Betsy’s visit to New -York the previous winter. - -“And she never let me know it, or come to see me, because—because—” Katy -hesitated, and looked at Bell, who said, pertly, “Because Will is so -abominably proud, and would have made such a fuss. Don’t spoil a story -for relation’s sake, I beg,” and the young lady laughed good-humoredly, -restoring peace to all save Katy, whose face wore a troubled look, and -who soon stole away to her mother, whom she questioned further with -regard to a circumstance which seemed so mysterious to her. - -“Miss Barlow,” Bell said, when Katy was gone, “you will forgive me for -repeating that story as I did. Of course I had no idea it was you of -whom I was talking.” - -Bell was very earnest, and her eyes looked pleadingly upon Aunt Betsy, -who answered her back, “There’s nothing to forgive. You only told the -truth. I did make an old fool of myself, but if I helped that boy to a -right decision, my journey did some good, and I ain’t sorry now if I did -go to the play-house. I confessed that to the sewing circle, and Mrs. -Deacon Bannister ain’t seemed the same towards me since, but I don’t -care. I beat her on the election to first directress of the Soldier’s -Aid. She didn’t run half as well as me. That chap—you call Bob—is he -anything to you. Is he your beau?” - -It was Bell’s turn now to blush and then grow white, while Helen, -lightly touching the superb diamond on her first finger, said, “That -indicates as much. When did it happen, Bell?” - -Mrs. Cameron had said they were not a family to bruit their affairs -abroad, and if so, Bell was not like her family, for she answered -frankly, “Just before he went away. It’s a splendid diamond, isn’t it?” -and she held it up for Helen to inspect. - -The basket was empty by this time, and as Aunt Betsy went to fill it -from the trees, Bell and Helen were left alone, and the former continued -in a low, sad tone, “I’ve been so sorry sometimes that I did not tell -Bob I _loved_ him, when he wished me to so much.” - -“Not tell him you loved him! How then could you tell him yes, as it -appears you did?” Helen asked, and Bell answered, “I could not well help -that; it came so sudden and he begged so hard, saying my promise would -make him a better man, a better soldier and all that. It was the very -night before he went, and so I said that out of _pity_ and _patriotism_ -I would give the promise, and I did, but it seemed too much for a woman -to tell a man all at once that she loved him, and I wouldn’t do it, but -I’ve been sorry since; oh, so sorry, during the two days when we heard -nothing from him after that dreadful battle at Bull Run. We knew he was -in it, and I thought I should die until his telegram came saying he was -safe. I did sit down then and commence a letter, confessing all, but I -tore it up, and he don’t know now just how I feel.” - -“And do you really love him?” Helen asked, puzzled by this strange girl, -who laughingly held up her soft, white hand, stained and blackened with -the juice of the fruit she had been paring, and said, “Do you suppose I -would spoil my hands like that, and incur _ma chère mamma’s_ -displeasure, if Bob were not in the army and I did not care for him? And -now allow me to catechise you. Did Mark Ray ever propose and you refuse -him?” - -“Never!” and Helen’s face grew crimson, while Bell continued: “That is -funny. Half our circle think so, though how the impression was first -given I do not know. Mother told me, but would not tell where she -received her information. I heard of it again in a few days, and have -reason to believe that Mrs. Banker knows it too, and feels a little -uncomfortable that her son should be refused when she considers him -worthy of the Empress herself.” - -Helen was very white, as she asked, “And how with Mark and Juno?” - -“Oh, there is nothing between them,” Bell replied. “Mark has scarcely -called on us since he returned from Washington with his regiment. You -are certain you never cared for him?” - -This was so abrupt, and Bell’s eyes were so searching that Helen grew -giddy for a moment, and grasped the back of the chair, as she replied: -“I did not say I never cared for him. I said he never proposed; and that -is true; he never did.” - -“And if he had?” Bell continued, never taking her eyes from Helen, who, -had she been less agitated, would have denied Bell’s right to question -her so closely. Now, however, she answered blindly, “I do not know. I -cannot tell. I thought him engaged to Juno.” - -“Well, if that is not the rarest case of cross-purposes that I ever -knew,” Bell said, wiping her hands upon Aunt Betsy’s apron, and -preparing to attack the piled up basket just brought in. - -Farther conversation was impossible, and, with her mind in a perfect -tempest of thought, Helen went away, trying to decide what it was best -for her to do. Some one had spread the report that _she_ had refused -Mark Ray, telling of the refusal of course, or how else could it have -been known? and this accounted for Mrs. Banker’s long continued silence. -Since Helen’s return to Silverton Mrs. Banker had written two or three -kind, friendly letters, which did her so much good; but these had -suddenly ceased, and Helen’s last remained unanswered. She saw the -reason now, every nerve quivering with pain as she imagined what Mrs. -Banker must think of one who could make a refusal public, or what was -tenfold worse, pretend to an offer she never received. “She must despise -me, and Mark Ray, too, if he has heard of it,” she said, resolving one -moment to ask Bell to explain to Mrs. Banker, and then changing her mind -and concluding to let matters take their course, inasmuch as -interference from her might be construed by the mother into undue -interest in the son. “Perhaps Bell will do it without my asking,” she -thought, and this hope did much toward keeping her spirits up on that -last day of Katy’s stay at home, for she was going back in the morning. - -They did not see Marian Hazelton again, and Katy wondered at it, -deciding that in some things Marian was very peculiar, while Wilford and -Bell were disappointed, as both had a desire to meet and converse with -one who had been so like a second mother to the little dead Genevra. -Wilford spoke of his child now as Genevra, but to Katy it was Baby -still; and, with choking sobs and passionate tears, she bade good-bye to -the little mound underneath which it was lying, and then went back to -New York. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXII. - THE FIRST WIFE. - - -Katy was very unhappy in her city home, and the world, as she looked -upon it, seemed utterly cheerless. For much of this unhappiness Wilford -was himself to blame. After the first few days, during which he was all -kindness and devotion, he did not try to comfort her, but seemed -irritated that she should mourn so deeply for the child which, but for -her indiscretion, might have been living still. He did not like staying -at home, and their evenings, when they were alone, passed in gloomy -silence. At last Mrs. Cameron brought her influence to bear upon her -daughter-in-law, trying to rouse her to something like her olden -interest in the world; but all to no effect, and matters grew constantly -worse, as Wilford thought Katy unreasonable and selfish, while Katy -tried hard not to think him harsh in his judgment of her, and exacting -in his requirements. “Perhaps she was the one most in fault; it could -not be pleasant for him to see her so entirely changed from what she -used to be,” she thought, one morning late in November, when, her -husband had just left her with an angry frown upon his face and -reproachful words upon his lips. - -Father Cameron and his daughters were out of town, and Mrs. Cameron had -asked Wilford and Katy to dine with her. But Katy did not wish to go, -and Wilford had left her in anger, saying “she could suit herself, but -he should go at all events.” - -Left alone, Katy began to feel that she had done wrong in declining the -invitation. Surely she could go there, and the echo of the _bang_ with -which Wilford had closed the street door was still vibrating in her ear, -when her resolution began to give way, and while Wilford was riding -moodily down town, thinking harsh things against her, she was meditating -what she thought might be an agreeable surprise. She would go round and -meet him at dinner, trying to appear as much like her old self as she -could, and so atone for anything which had hitherto been wrong in her -demeanor. - -Later in the day Esther was sent for to arrange her mistress’s hair, as -she had not arranged it since baby died. Wilford had been annoyed by the -smooth bands combed so plainly back, and at the blackness of the dress, -but now there was a change, and graceful curls fell about the face, -giving it the girlish expression which Wilford liked. The soberness of -the dark dress was relieved by simple folds of white crape at the throat -and wrists, while the handsome jet ornaments, the gift of Wilford’s -father, added to the style and beauty of the childish figure, which had -seldom looked lovelier than when ready and waiting for the carriage. At -the door there was a ring, and Esther brought a note to Katy, who read -as follows: - - DEAR KATY:—I have been suddenly called to leave the city on business, - which will probably detain me for three days or more, and as I must go - on the night train, I wish Esther to have my portmanteau ready with - whatever I may need for the journey. As I proposed this morning, I - shall dine with mother, but come home immediately after dinner. - - W. CAMERON. - -Katy was glad now that she had decided to meet him at his mother’s, as -the knowing she had pleased him would make the time of his absence more -endurable, and after seeing that everything was ready for him she -stepped with a comparatively light heart into her carriage, and was -driven to No.—— Fifth Avenue. - -Mrs. Cameron was out, the servant said, but was expected every minute -with Mr. Wilford. - -“Never mind,” Katy answered; “I want to surprise them, so please don’t -tell them I am here when you let them in,” and going into the library -she sat down before the grate, waiting rather impatiently until the -door-bell rang and she heard both Wilford’s and Mrs. Cameron’s voices in -the hall. - -Contrary to her expectations, they did not come into the library, but -went into the parlor, the door of which was partially ajar, so that -every word they said could be distinctly heard where Katy sat. It would -seem that they were continuing a conversation which had been interrupted -by their arriving home, for Mrs. Cameron said, with the tone she always -assumed when sympathizing with her son. “Is she never more cheerful than -when I have seen her?” - -“Never,” and Katy could feel just how Wilford’s lips shut over his teeth -as he said it; “never more cheerful, but worse if anything. Why, -positively the house seems so like a funeral that I hate to leave the -office and go back to it at night, knowing how mopish and gloomy Katy -will be.” - -“My poor boy, it is worse than I feared,” Mrs. Cameron said, with a -little sigh, while Katy, with a great gasping sob, tried to rise and go -to them, to tell them she was there—the mopish Katy, who made her home -so like a funeral to her husband. - -But her limbs refused to move, and she sank back powerless in her chair, -compelled to listen to things which no true husband would ever say to a -mother of his wife, especially when that wife’s error consisted -principally in mourning for the child “which but for her imprudence -might have been living then.” These were Wilford’s very words, and -though Katy had once expected him to say them, they came upon her now -with a dreadful shock, making her view herself as the murderer of her -child, and thus blunting the pain she might otherwise have felt as he -went on to speak of Silverton and its inhabitants just as he would not -have spoken had he known she was so near. Then, encouraged by his -mother, he talked again of her in a way which made her poor aching heart -throb as she whispered, sadly, “He is disappointed in me. I do not come -up to all that he expected. I do very well, considering my low origin, -but I am not what his wife should be.” - -Wilford had not said all this, but Katy inferred it, and every nerve -quivered with anguish as the wild wish came over her that she had died -on that day when she sat in the summer grass at home waiting for Wilford -Cameron. Poor Katy! she thought her cup of sorrow full, when, alas! only -a drop had as yet been poured into it. But it was filling fast, and Mrs. -Cameron’s words, “It might have been better with Genevra,” was the first -outpouring of the overwhelming torrent which for a moment bore her life -and sense away. She thought they meant her baby—the little Genevra -sleeping under the snow in Silverton—and her white lips answered, “Yes, -it would be better,” before Wilford’s voice was heard, saying, as he -always said, “No, I have never wished Genevra in Katy’s place; though I -have sometimes wondered what the result would have been had I learned in -season how much I wronged her.” - -Was heaven and earth coming together, or what made Katy’s brain so dizzy -and the room so dark, as, with head bent forward and lips apart, she -strained her ear to catch every word of the conversation which followed, -and in which she saw glimpses of that _leaf_ offered her once to read, -and from which she had promised not to shrink should it ever be thrust -upon her? But she did shrink, oh! so shudderingly, holding up her hands -and striking them through the empty air as if she would thrust aside the -terrible spectre risen so suddenly before her. She had heard all that -she cared to hear then. Another word and she should surely die where she -was, within hearing of the voices still talking of _Genevra_. Stopping -her ears to shut out the dreadful sound, she tried to think what she -should do. To gain the door and reach the street was her desire, and -throwing on her wrappings she went noiselessly into the hall, and -carefully turning the lock and closing the door behind her, she found -herself alone in the street in the dusk of a November night. But Katy -was not afraid, and drawing her hood closely over her face she sped on -until her own house was reached, alarming Esther with her frightened -face, but explaining that she had been taken suddenly ill and returned -before dinner - -“Mr. Cameron will be here soon,” she said. “I do not need anything -to-night, so you can leave me alone and go where you like—to the -theatre, if you choose. I heard you say you wished to go. Here is the -money for you and Phillips,” and handing a bill to the puzzled Esther, -she dismissed her from the room. - -Meanwhile, at the elder Cameron’s, no one had a suspicion of Katy’s -recent presence, for the girl who had admitted her had gone to visit a -sick sister, with whom she was to spend the night. Thus Katy’s secret -was safe, and Wilford, when at last he bade his mother good-bye and -started for home, was not prepared for the livid face, the bloodshot -eyes, and the strange, unnatural look which met him at the threshold. - -Katy answered his ring herself, her hands grasping his fiercely, -dragging him up the stairs to her own room, where, more like a maniac -than Katy Cameron, she confronted him with the startling question, - -“Who is _Genevra Lambert_? It is time I knew before committing greater -sin. Tell me, Wilford, who _is_ she?” - -She was standing before him, her slight figure seeming to expand into a -greater height, the features glowing with strong excitement, and her hot -breath coming hurriedly through her dilated nostrils, but never opening -the pale lips set so firmly together. There was something terrible in -her look and attitude, and it startled Wilford, who recoiled a moment -from her, scarcely able to recognize the Katy hitherto so gentle and -quiet. She had learned his secret, but the facts must have been -distorted, he knew, or she had never been so agitated. 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!_” - -“I thought so,” and the next moment Katy lay in Wilford’s arms, dead, as -he feared, for there was no motion about the eyelids, no motion that he -could perceive about the pulse or heart, as he laid the rigid form upon -the bed and then bent every energy to restore her, even though he feared -that it was hopeless. - -If possible he would prefer that no one should intrude upon them now, -and he chafed her icy hands and bathed her face until the eyes unclosed -again, but with a shudder turned away as they met his. Then, as she grew -stronger and remembered the past, she started up, exclaiming, “If -Genevra Lambert is your wife, what then _am I_? Oh, Wilford, how could -you make me _not_ a wife, when I trusted and loved you so much?” - -He knew she was laboring under a mistake, and he did not wonder at the -violence of her emotions if she believed he had wronged her so cruelly, -and coming nearer to her he said, “Genevra Lambert _was_ my wife once, -but is not now, for she is dead. Do you hear me, Katy? Genevra died -years ago, when you were a little girl playing in the fields at home.” - -By mentioning Silverton, he hoped to bring back something of her olden -look, in place of the expression which troubled and frightened him. The -experiment was successful, and great tears gathered in Katy’s eyes, -washing out the wild, unnatural gleam, while the lips whispered, “And it -was her picture Juno saw. She told me the night I came, and I tried to -question you. You remember?” - -Wilford did remember it, and he replied, “Yes, but I did not suppose you -knew I had a picture. You have been a good wife, Katy, never to mention -it since then;” and he tried to kiss her forehead, but she covered it -with her hands, saying sadly, “Not yet, Wilford, I cannot bear it now. I -must know the whole about Genevra. Why didn’t you tell me before? Why -have you deceived me so?” - -“Katy,” and Wilford grew very earnest in his attempts to defend himself, -“do you remember that day we sat under the buttonwood tree, and you -promised to be mine? Try and recall the incidents of that hour and see -if I did not hint at some things in the past which I wished had been -otherwise, and did not offer to show you the blackest page of my whole -life, but you would not see it. Was that so, Katy?” - -“Yes,” she answered, and he continued: “You said you were satisfied to -take me as I was. You would not hear evil against me, and so I -acquiesced, bidding you not shrink back if ever the time should come -when you must read that page. I was to blame, I know, but there were -many extenuating circumstances, much to excuse me for withholding what -you would not hear.” - -Wilford did not like to be censured, neither did he like to censure -himself, and now that Katy was out of danger and comparatively calm, he -began to build about himself a fortress of excuses for having kept from -her the secret of his life. - -“When did you hear of Genevra?” he asked. - -Katy told him when and how she heard the story, and then added, “Oh, -Wilford, why did you keep it from me? What was there about it wrong, and -where is she buried?” - -“In Alnwick, at St. Mary’s,” Wilford answered, determining now to hold -nothing back, and by his abruptness wounding Katy afresh. - -“In Alnwick, at St. Mary’s,” Katy cried. “Then I have seen her grave, -and that is why you were so anxious to get there—so unwilling to go -away. Oh, if I were lying there instead of Genevra, it would be so much -better, so much better.” - -Katy was sobbing now, in a moaning, plaintive way, which touched Wilford -tenderly, and smoothing her tangled hair, he said, “I would not exchange -my Katy for all the Genevras in the world. She was never as dear to me -as you. I was but a boy, and did not know my mind, when I met her. Shall -I tell you about her now? Can you bear to hear the story of Genevra?” - -There was a nod of assent, and Katy turned her face to the wall, -clasping her hands tightly together, while Wilford drew his chair to her -side and began to read the page he should have read to her long before. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIII. - WHAT THE PAGE DISCLOSED. - - -I was little more than nineteen years of age when I left Harvard College -and went abroad with my only brother, the John or Jack of whom you have -so often heard. Both himself and wife were in delicate health, and it -was hoped a voyage across the sea would do them good. For nearly a year -we were in various parts of England, stopping for two months at -Brighton, where, among the visitors, was a widow from the vicinity of -Alnwick, and with her an orphan niece, whose dazzling beauty attracted -my youthful fancy. She was not happy with her aunt, upon whom she was -wholly dependent, and my sympathies were all enlisted, when, with the -tears shining in her lustrous eyes, she one day accidentally stumbled -upon her trouble and told me how wretched she was, asking if in America -there was not something for her to do. - -“It was at this time that Jamie was born, and Mary, the girl who went -out with us, was married to an Englishman, making it necessary for Hatty -to find some one to take her place. Hearing of this, Genevra came one -day, and offered herself as half companion, half waiting-maid to Hatty. -Anything was preferable to the life she led, she said, pleading so hard -that Hatty, after an interview with the old aunt—a purse-proud, vulgar -woman, who seemed glad to be rid of her charge—consented to receive her, -and Genevra became one of our family, an equal rather than a menial, -whom Hatty treated with as much consideration as if she had been a -sister. I wish I could tell you how beautiful Genevra Lambert was at -that period of her life, with her brilliant English complexion, her eyes -so full of poetry and passion, her perfect features, and, more than all, -the wondrous smile, which would have made a plain face handsome. - -“Of course I came to love her, and loved her all the more for the -opposition I knew my family would throw in the way of my marrying the -daughter of an English apothecary, and one who was voluntarily filling a -servant’s place. But with my mother across the sea, I could do anything; -and when Genevra told me of a base fellow, who, since she was a child, -had sought her for his wife, and still pursued her with his letters, my -passions were roused, and I offered myself at once. Her answer was a -decided refusal. She knew _her_ position, she said, and she knew mine, -just as she knew the nature of the feeling which prompted me to act thus -toward her. Although just my age, she was older in judgment and -experience, and she seemed to understand the difference between our -relative positions. I was not indifferent to her, she said, and were she -my equal her answer might be otherwise than the decided no. - -“Madly in love, and fancying I could not live without her, I besieged -her with letters, some of which she returned unopened, while on others -she wrote a few hurried lines, calling me a boy, who did not know my own -mind, and asking what my friends would say. - -“I cared little for friends, and urged my suit the more vehemently, as -we were about going into Scotland, where our marriage could be -celebrated in private at any time. I did not contemplate making the -affair public at once. That would take from the interest and romance, -while, unknown to myself, there was at heart a fear of my family. - -“But not to dwell too long upon those days, which seem to me now like a -dream, we went to Scotland and were married privately, for I won her to -this at last. - -“My brother’s failing health, as well as Hatty’s, prevented them from -suspecting what was going on, and when at last we went to Italy they had -no idea that Genevra was my wife. At Rome her beautiful face attracted -much attention from tourists and residents, among whom were a few young -men, who, looking upon her as Jamie’s nurse, or at most a companion for -his mother, made no attempt to disguise their admiration. For this I had -no redress except in an open avowal of the relation in which I stood to -her, and this I could not then do, for the longer it was deferred the -harder I found it to acknowledge her my wife. I loved her devotedly, and -that perhaps was one great cause of the jealousy which began to spring -up and embitter my life. - -“I do not now believe that Genevra was at heart a coquette. She was very -fond of admiration, but when she saw how much I was disturbed she made -an effort to avoid those who flattered her, but her manner was -unfortunate, while her voice—the sweetest I ever heard—was calculated to -invite rather than repel attention. As the empress of the world, she -would have won and kept the homage of mankind, from the humblest beggar -in the street to the king upon the throne, and had I been older I should -have been proud of what then was my greatest annoyance. But I was a mere -boy—and I watched her jealously, until a new element of disquiet was -presented to me in the shape of a ruffianly looking fellow, who was -frequently seen about the premises, and with whom I once found Genevra -in close converse, starting and blushing guiltily when I came upon her, -while her companion went swiftly from my sight. - -“It was an old English acquaintance, who was poor and asking charity,” -she said, when questioned, but her manner led me to think there was -something wrong, particularly as I saw her with him again, and thought -she held his hand. - -“It was evident that my brother would never see America again, and at -his request my mother came to us, in company with a family from Boston, -reaching us two weeks before he died. From the first she disliked -Genevra, and suspected the liking between us, but never dreaming of the -truth until a week after Jack’s death, when in a fit of anger at Genevra -for listening to an English artist, who had asked to paint her picture, -the story of the marriage came out, and like a child dependent on its -mother for advice, I asked, ‘What shall I do?? - -“You know mother, and can in part understand how she would scorn a girl -who, though born to better things, was still found in the capacity of a -waiting-maid. I never saw her so moved as she was for a time, after -learning that her only living son, from whom she expected so much, had -thrown himself away, as she expressed it. Sister Hatty, who loved -Genevra, did all she could to heal the growing difference between us, -but I trusted mother most. I believed that what she said was right, and -so matters grew worse, until one night, the last we spent in Rome, I -missed Genevra from our rooms, and starting in quest of her, found her, -in a little flower garden back of our dwelling. There, under the deep -shadow of a tree, and partly concealed from view, she stood with her arm -around the neck of the same rough-looking man who had been there before. -She did not see me as I watched her while she parted with him, suffering -him to kiss her hand and forehead as he said, “Good-bye, my darling.” - -“In a tremor of anger and excitement I quitted the spot, my mind wholly -made up with regard to my future. That there was something wrong about -Genevra I did not doubt, and I would not give her a chance to explain by -telling her what I had seen, but sent her back to England, giving her -ample means for defraying the expenses of her journey and for living in -comfort after her arrival there. From Rome we went to Naples, and then -to Switzerland, where Hatty died, leaving us alone with little Jamie. It -was at Berne that I received an anonymous letter from England, the -writer stating that Genevra was with her aunt, that the whole had ended -as he thought it would, that he could readily guess at the nature of the -trouble, and hinting that if a _divorce_ was desirable on my return to -England, all necessary proof could be obtained by applying to such a -number in London, the writer announcing himself a brother of the man who -had once sought Genevra, and saying he had always opposed the match, -knowing Genevra’s family. - -“This was the first time the idea of a _divorce_ had entered my mind, -and I shrank from a final separation. But mother felt differently. It -was not a new thought to her, knowing as she did that the validity of a -Scotch marriage, such as ours, was frequently contested in the English -Courts. Once free from Genevra the world this side the water would never -know of that mistake, and she set herself steadily to accomplish her -purpose. To tell you all that followed our return to England, and the -steps by which I was brought to sue for a divorce, would make my story -too long, and so I will only state that, chiefly by the testimony of the -anonymous letter-writer, whose acquaintance we made, a divorce was -obtained, Genevra putting in no defence, but, as I heard afterwards, -settling down into an apathy from which nothing had power to rouse her -until the news of her freedom from me was carried to her, when, amid a -paroxysm of tears and sobs, she wrote me a few lines, assuring me of her -innocence, refusing to send back her wedding ring, and saying God would -not forgive me for the great wrong I had done her. I saw her once after -that by appointment, and her face haunted me for years, for, Katy, -_Genevra was innocent_, as I found after the time was past when -reparation could be made.” - -Wilford’s voice trembled, and for a moment there was silence in the -room, while he composed himself to go on with the story: - -“She would not live with me again if she could, she said, denouncing -bitterly the Cameron pride, and saying she was happier to be free; and -there we parted, but not until she told me that her traducer was the old -discarded suitor who had sworn to have revenge, and who, since the -divorce, had dared seek her again. A vague suspicion of this had crossed -my mind once before, but the die was cast, and even if the man were -false, what I saw myself in Rome still stood against her, and so my -conscience was quieted, while mother was more than glad to be rid of a -daughter-in-law of whose family I knew nothing. Rumors I did hear of a -cousin whose character was not the best, and of the father who for some -crime had fled the country, and died in a foreign land, but as that was -nothing to me now, I passed it by, feeling it was best to be released -from one of so doubtful antecedents. - -“In the spring of 185— we came back to New York, where no one had ever -heard of the affair, so quietly had it been managed. I was still an -unmarried man to the world, as no one but my mother knew my secret. With -her I often talked of Genevra, wishing sometimes that I could hear from -her, a wish which was finally gratified. One day I received a note -requesting an interview at a down town hotel, the writer signing himself -as Thomas Lambert, and adding that I need have no fears, as he came to -perform an act of justice, not of retribution. Three hours later I was -locked in a room with Genevra’s father, the same man whom I had seen in -Rome. Detected in forgery years before, he had fled from England and had -hidden himself in Rome, where he accidentally met his daughter, and so -that stain was removed. He had heard of the divorce by a letter which -Genevra managed to send him, and braving all difficulties and dangers he -had come back to England and found his child, hearing from her the story -of her wrongs, and as well as he was able setting himself to discover -the author of the calumny. He was not long in tracing it to _Le Roy_, -Genevra’s former suitor, whom he found in a dying condition, and who -with his last breath confessed the falsehood which was imposed upon me, -he said, partly from motives of revenge, and partly, with a hope that -free from me, Genevra would at the last turn to him. As proof that Mr. -Lambert told me truth, he brought the dying man’s confession, written in -a cramped, trembling hand, which I recognized at once. The confession -ended with the solemn assertion, ‘For aught I know or believe, Genevra -Lambert is as pure and true as any woman living.’ - -“I cannot describe the effect this had upon me. I did not love Genevra -then. I had out-lived that affection, but I felt remorse and pity for -having wronged her, and asked how I could make amends. - -“‘You cannot,’ the old man said, ‘except in one way, and that she does -not desire. I did not come here with any wish for you to take her for -your wife again. It was an unequal match which never should have been; -but if you believe her innocent, she will be satisfied. She wanted you -to know it—I wanted you to know it, and so I crossed the sea to find -you.’” - -“The next I heard of her was in the columns of an English newspaper, -which told me she was dead, while in another place a pencil mark was -lightly traced around a paragraph, which said that ‘a forger, Thomas -Lambert, who escaped years ago and was supposed to be dead, had recently -reappeared in England, where he was recognized, but not arrested, for -the illness which proved fatal. He was attended,’ the paper said, ‘by -his daughter, a beautiful young girl, whose modest mien and gentle -manner had done much towards keeping the officers of justice from her -dying father, no one being able to withstand her pleadings that her -father might die in peace.’ - -“I was grateful for this tribute to Genevra, for I felt that it was -deserved; and I turned again to the notice of her death, which must have -occurred within a short time of her father’s, and was probably induced -by past troubles and recent anxiety for him. - -“Genevra Lambert died at Alnwick, aged 22. There could be no mistake, -and with a tear to the memory of the dead whom I had loved and injured, -I burned the paper, feeling that now there was no clue to the secret I -was as anxious to preserve as was my mother. - -“And so the years wore on till I met and married you, withholding from -you that yours was not the first love which had stirred my heart. I -meant to tell you, Katy, but I could not for the great fear of losing -you if you knew all. And then an error concealed so long is hard to be -confessed. I took you across the sea to Brighton, where I first met -Genevra, and then to Alnwick, seeking out the grave which made assurance -doubly sure. It was natural that I should make some inquiries concerning -her last days; I questioned the old sexton who was at work near by. -Calling his attention to the name, I said it was an uncommon one and -asked if he knew the girl. - -“‘Not by sight, no,’ he said. ‘She was only here a few days before she -died. I’ve heard she was very winsome and that there was a scandal of -some kind mixed up with her.’ - -“I would not ask him any more; and without any wrong to you, I confess -that my tears dropped upon the turf under which I knew Genevra lay.” - -“I am glad they did; I should hate you if you had not cried,” Katy -exclaimed, her voice more natural than it had been since the great shock -came. - -“Do you forgive me, Katy? Do you love me as well as ever?” Wilford -asked, stooping down to kiss her, but Katy drew her face away and would -not answer then. - -She did not know herself how she felt towards him. He did not seem just -like the husband she had trusted in so blindly. It would take a long -time to forget that another head than hers had lain upon his bosom, and -it would take longer yet to blot out the memory of complaining words -uttered to his mother. She had never thought he could do that, never -dreamed of such a thing, knowing that she would sooner have parted with -her right hand than complained of him. Her idol had fallen in more -respects than one, and the heart it had bruised in the fall refused at -once to gather the shattered pieces up and call them as good as new. She -was not so obstinate as Wilford began to fancy. She was only stunned and -could not rally at his bidding. He confessed the whole, keeping nothing -back, and he felt that Katy was unjust not to acknowledge his -magnanimity and restore him to her favor. Again he asked forgiveness, -and bent down to kiss her, but Katy answered, “Not yet, Wilford, not -till I feel all right towards you. A wife’s kiss should be sincere.” - -“As you like,” trembled on Wilford’s lips, but he beat back the words -and walked up and down the room, knowing now that his journey must be -deferred till morning, and wondering if Katy would hold out till then. - -It was long past midnight, but to retire was impossible, and so for one -whole hour he paced through the room, while Katy lay with her eyes -closed and her lips moving occasionally in words of prayer she tried to -say, asking God to help her, and praying that she might in future lay -her treasures up where they could not so suddenly be swept away. Wearily -the hours passed, and the gray dawn was stealing into the room when -Wilford again approached his wife and said, “You know I was to have left -home last night on business. As I did not go then it is necessary that I -leave this morning. Are you able to stay alone for three days more? Are -you willing?” - -“Yes—oh yes,” Katy replied, feeling that to have him gone while she -battled with the pain lying so heavy at her heart, would be a great -relief. - -Perhaps he suspected this feeling in part, for he bit his lip -impatiently, and without another word called up the servant whose duty -it was to prepare his breakfast. Cold and cheerless seemed the -dining-room, to which an hour later he repaired, and tasteless was the -breakfast without Katy there to share it. She had been absent many times -before, but never just as now, with this wide gulf between them, and as -he broke his egg and tried to drink his coffee, Wilford felt like one -from whom every support had been swept away. He did not like the look on -Katy’s face or the sound of her voice, and as he thought upon them, self -began to whisper again that she had no right to stand out so long when -he had confessed everything, and by the time his breakfast was finished, -Wilford Cameron was, in his own estimation, an abused and injured man, -so that it was with an air of defiance rather than humility that he went -again to Katy. She, too, had been thinking, and as the result of her -thoughts she lifted up her head as he came in and said, “I can kiss you -now, Wilford.” - -It was human nature, we suppose—at least it was Wilford’s nature—which -for an instant tempted him to decline the kiss proffered so lovingly; -but Katy’s face was more than he could withstand, and when again he left -that room the kiss of pardon was upon his lips and comparative quiet was -in his heart. - -“The picture, Wilford,—please bring me the picture, I want to see it,” -Katy called after him, as he was running down the stairs. - -Wilford would not refuse, and hastily unlocking his private drawer he -carried the case to Katy’s room, saying to her, “I would not mind it -now. Try and sleep awhile. You need the rest so much.” - -Katy knew she had the whole day before her, and so she nestled down -among her pillows and soon fell into a quiet sleep, from which Esther at -last awakened her, asking if she should bring her breakfast to her room. - -“Yes, do,” Katy replied, adjusting her dress and trying to arrange the -matted curls, which were finally confined in a net until Esther’s more -practiced hands were ready to attack them, then sending Esther from the -room Katy took the picture of Genevra from the table where Wilford had -laid it. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIV. - THE EFFECT. - - -Very cautiously the lid was opened, and a lock of soft brown hair fell -out, clinging to Katy’s hand and making her shudder as she shook off the -silken tress and remembered that the head it once adorned was lying in -St. Mary’s churchyard, where the English daisies grew. - -“She had pretty hair,” she thought; “darker, richer than mine,” and into -Katy’s heart there crept a feeling akin to jealousy, lest Genevra had -been fairer than herself, as well as better loved. “I won’t be foolish -any longer,” she said, and turning resolutely to the light, she opened -the lid again and saw Genevra Lambert, starting quickly, then looking -again more closely—then, with a gasp, panting for breath; while like -lightning flashes the past came rushing over her, as, with her eyes -fixed upon that picture, she tried to whisper, “_It is—it is!_” - -She could not then say whom, for if she were right in her belief, -Genevra was not dead. There were no daisies growing on her grave, for -she still walked the earth a living woman, whom Katy knew so -well—_Marian Hazelton_. That was the name Katy could not speak, as, with -the blood curdling in her veins and freezing about her heart, she sat -comparing the face she remembered so well with the one before her. In -some points they were unlike, for thirteen years had slightly marred the -youthful contour of the face she knew once—had sharpened the features -and thinned the abundant hair; but still there could be no mistake. The -eyes, the brow, the smile, the nose, all were the same, and with a pang -bitterer than she yet had felt, poor Katy fell upon her face and asked -that she might die. In her utter ignorance of law, she fancied that if -Genevra were alive, she had no right to Wilford’s name—no right to be -his wife—especially as the sin for which Genevra was divorced had by her -never been committed, and burning tears of bitter shame ran down her -cheeks as she whispered, “‘What God has joined together let no man put -asunder,’ Those are God’s words, and how dare the world act otherwise? -she _is_ his wife, and I—oh! I don’t know what I am!” and on the carpet -where she was kneeling Katy writhed in agony as she tried to think what -she must do. Not stay there—she could not do that now—not, at least, -until she knew for sure that she was Wilford’s wife, in spite of -Genevra’s living. “Oh, if there was only some one to advise me—some one -who knew and would tell me what was right,” Katy moaned, feeling herself -inadequate to meet the dark hour alone. - -But to whom should she go? To Father Cameron? No, nor to his mother. -They might counsel wrong for the sake of secrecy. Would Mark Ray or Mrs. -Banker know? Perhaps; but they were strangers;—her trouble must not be -told to them, and then with a great bound her heart turned at last to -_Morris_. He knew everything. He would not sanction a wrong. He would -tell her just what was right, and she could trust him fully in -everything. There was no other person whom she could believe just as she -could him. Uncle Ephraim was equally as good and conscientious, but he -did not know as much as Morris—he did not understand everything. Morris -was her refuge, and to him she would go that very day, leaving a note -for Wilford in case she never came back, as possibly she might not. Had -Marian been in the city she would have gone to her at once, but Marian -was where long rows of cots were ranged against the hospital walls, each -holding a maimed and suffering soldier, to whom she ministered so -tenderly, the brightness of her smile and the beauty of her face -deluding the delirious ones into the belief that the journey of life for -them was ended and heaven reached at last, where an angel in woman’s -garb attended upon them. Marian was impossible, and Dr. Grant was the -only alternative left. - -But when she attempted to prepare for the journey to Silverton, she -found herself wholly inadequate to the exertion. The terrible excitement -through which she had passed had exhausted her strength, and every nerve -was quivering, while spasms of pain darted through her head, warning her -that Silverton was impossible. “I can telegraph and Morris will come,” -she whispered, and without pausing to think what the act might involve, -she wrote upon a slip of paper, “Cousin Morris, come to me in the next -train. I am in great trouble, Katy.” - -She would not add the Cameron. She had no right to that name, she -feared, and folding the paper, she rang for Esther, bidding her give the -telegram to the boy Phil, with instructions to take it at once to the -office and see that it went immediately. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXV. - THE INTERVIEW. - - -Dr. Morris was very tired, for his labors that day had been unusually -severe, and it was with a feeling of comfort and relief that at an -earlier hour than usual, he had turned his steps homeward, finding a -bright fire waiting him in the library, where his late dinner was soon -brought by the housekeeper. It was very pleasant in that cosy library of -oak and green, with the bright fire on the hearth, and the smoking -dinner set so temptingly before him. And Morris felt the comfort of his -home, thanking the God who had given him all this, and chiding his -wayward heart that it had ever dared to repine. He was not repining -to-night, as with his hands crossed upon his head he sat looking into -the fire and watching the bits of glowing anthracite dropping into the -pan. He was thinking of the sick-bed which he had visited last, and how -a faith in Jesus can make the humblest room like the gate of Heaven; -thinking how the woman’s eyes had sparkled when she told him of the -other world, where she would never know pain or hunger or cold again, -and how quickly their lustre was dimmed when she spoke of her absent -husband, the soldier to whom the news of her death, with the child he -had never seen, would be a crushing blow. - -“They who have neither wife nor child are the happier perhaps,” he said; -and then he thought of Katy and her great sorrow when baby died, -wondering if to spare herself that pain she would rather baby had never -been. “No—oh, no,” he answered to his own inquiry. “She would not lose -the memory which comes from that little grave for all the world -contains. It is better once to love and lose than not to love at all. In -Heaven we shall see and know why these things were permitted, and marvel -at the poor human nature which rebelled against them.” - -Just at this point of his soliloquy, the telegram was brought to him. -“Come in the next train. I am in great trouble.” - -He read it many times, growing more and more perplexed with each -reading, and then trying to decide what his better course would be. -There were no patients needing him that night, that he knew of; he might -perhaps go if there was yet time for the train which passed at four -o’clock. There was time, he found, and telling Mrs. Hull that he had -been suddenly called to New York, he bade his boy bring out his horse -and take him at once to the depot. It was better to leave no message for -the deacon’s family, as he did not wish to alarm them unnecessarily. “I -shall undoubtedly be back to-morrow,” he thought, as he took his seat in -the car, wondering what could be the trouble which had prompted that -strange despatch. - -It was nearly midnight when he reached the city, but a light was shining -from the windows of that house in Madison Square, and Katy, who had -never for a moment doubted his coming, was waiting for him. But not in -the parlor; she was too sick now to go down there, and when she heard -his ring and his voice in the hall asking for her, she bade Esther show -him to her room. More and more perplexed, Morris ran up to the room -where Katy lay, or rather crouched, upon the sofa, her eyes so wild and -her face so white that, in great alarm, Morris took the cold hands she -stretched feebly towards him, and bending over her said, “What is it, -Katy? Has anything dreadful happened? and where is your husband?” - -At the mention of her husband Katy shivered, and rising from her -crouching position, she pushed her hair back from her forehead and -replied, “Oh, Morris! I am so wretched,—so full of pain! I have heard of -something which took my life away. I am _not_ Wilford’s wife, for he had -another before me,—a wife in Italy,—who is not dead! And _I_, oh Morris! -what _am_ I? I knew you would know just what I was, and I sent for you -to tell me and take me away from here, back to Silverton. Help me, -Morris! I am choking! I am—yes—I am—going to faint!” - -It was the first time Katy had put the great horror in words addressed -to another, and the act of doing so made it more appalling, and with a -moan she sank back among the pillows of the couch, while Morris tried to -comprehend the strange words he had heard, “I am not Wilford’s wife, for -he had another before me,—a wife in Italy,—who is not dead.” - -Dr. Morris was thoroughly a man, and though much of his sinful nature -had been subdued, there was enough left to make his heart rise and fall -with great throbs of joy as he thought of Katy _free_, even though that -freedom were bought at the expense of dire disgrace to others, and of -misery to her. But only for a moment did he feel thus—only till he knelt -beside the pallid face with the dark rings beneath the eyes, and saw the -faint, quivering motion around the lips, which told that she was not -wholly unconscious. - -“My poor little wounded bird,” he said, as pityingly as if he had been -her father, while much as a father might kiss his suffering child, he -kissed the forehead and the eyelids where the tears began to gather. - -Katy was not insensible, and the name by which he called her, with the -kisses that he gave, thawed the ice around her heart and brought a flood -of tears, which Morris wiped away, lifting her gently up and pillowing -her hot head upon his arm, while she moaned like a weary child. - -“It rests me so just to see you, Morris. May I go back with you, as your -housekeeper, instead of Mrs. Hull;—that is, if I am not his wife? The -world might despise me, but you would know I was not to blame. I should -go nowhere but to the farm-house, to church, and baby’s grave. Poor -baby! I am glad God gave her to me, even if I am not Wilford’s wife; and -I am glad now that she died.” - -She was talking to herself rather than to Morris, who, smoothing back -her hair and chafing her cold hands, said, - -“My poor child, you have passed through some agitating scene. Are you -able now to tell me all about it, and what you mean by another wife?” - -There was a shiver, and the white lips grew still whiter as Katy began -her story, going back to St. Mary’s churchyard and then coming to her -first night in New York, when Juno had told her of a picture and asked -her whose it was. Then she told of Wilford’s admission of an earlier -love, who, he said, was dead; of the trouble about the baby’s name, and -his aversion to Genevra; but when she approached the dinner at the elder -Cameron’s, her lip quivered in a grieved kind of way as she remembered -what Wilford had said of _her_ to his mother, but she would not tell -this to Morris,—it was not necessary to her story,—and so she said, -“They were talking of what I ought never to have heard, and it seemed as -if the walls were closing me in so I could not move to let them know I -was there. I said to myself, ‘I shall go mad after this,’ and I thought -of you all coming to see me in the mad-house, your kind face, Morris, -coming up distinctly before me, just as it would look at me if I were -really crazed. But all this was swept away like a hurricane when I heard -the rest, the part about _Genevra_, Wilford’s other wife.” - -Katy was panting for breath, but she went on with the story, which made -Morris clench his hands as he comprehended the deceit which had been -practiced so long. Of course he did not look at it as Katy did, for he -knew that according to all civil law she was as really Wilford’s wife as -if no other had existed, and he told her so, but Katy shook her head. -“He can’t have two wives living. And I tell you I knew the -picture—_Genevra is not dead_, I have seen her; I have talked with -her,—Genevra is not dead.” - -“Granted that she is not,” Morris answered, “the divorce remains the -same.” - -“I do not believe in divorces. Whom God hath joined together let not man -put asunder,” Katy said with an air which implied that from this -argument there could be no appeal. - -“That is the Scripture, I know,” Morris replied, “but you must know that -for one sin our Saviour permitted a man to put away his wife, thus -making it perfectly right.” - -“But in Genevra’s case the sin did not exist. She was as innocent as I -am, and that must make a difference.” - -She was very earnest in her attempts to prove that Genevra was still a -lawful wife, so earnest that a dark suspicion entered Morris’s mind, -finding vent in the question, “Katy, don’t you love your husband, that -you try so hard to prove he is not yours?” - -There were red spots all over Katy’s face and neck as she saw the -meaning put upon her actions, and, covering her face with her hands, she -sobbed violently as she replied, “I do, oh, yes, I do! I never loved any -one else. I would have died for him once. Maybe I would die for him now; -but, Morris, he is disappointed in me. Our tastes are not alike, and we -made a great mistake, or Wilford did when he took me for his wife. I was -better suited to most anybody else, and I have been so wicked since, -forgetting all the good I ever knew, forgetting prayer save as I went -through the form from old habit’s sake; forgetting God, who has punished -me so sorely that every nerve smarts with the stinging blows.” - -Oh, how lovingly, how earnestly Morris talked to Katy then, telling her -of Him who smites but to heal, who chastens not in anger, and would lead -the lost one back into the quiet fold where there was perfect peace. - -And Katy, listening eagerly, with her great blue eyes fixed upon his -face, felt that to experience that of which he talked, was worth more -than all the world beside. Gradually, too, there stole over her the -_rest_ she always felt with him—the indescribable feeling which prompted -her to care for nothing except to do just what he bade her do, knowing -it was right; so when he said to her, “You cannot go home with me, Katy; -your duty is to remain here in your husband’s house,” she offered no -remonstrance. Indeed, Morris doubted if she fully understood him, she -looked so sick and appeared so strange. - -“It is not safe for you to be alone. Esther must stay with you,” he -continued, feeling her rapid pulse and noticing the alternate flushing -and paling of her cheek. - -A fever was coming on, he feared, and summoning Esther to the room, he -said, - -“Your mistress is very sick. You must stay with her till morning, and if -she grows worse, let me know. I shall be in the library.” - -Then, with a few directions with regard to the medicine he fortunately -had with him, he left the chamber, and repaired to the library below, -where he spent the few remaining hours of the night, pondering on the -strange story he had heard, and praying for poor Katy whose heart had -been so sorely wounded. - -The quick-witted Esther saw that something was wrong, and traced it -readily to Wilford, whose exacting nature she thoroughly understood. She -had not been blind during the two years and a half she had been Katy’s -maid, and no impatient word of Wilford’s, or frown upon his face, had -escaped her when occurring in her presence, while Katy’s uniform -sweetness and entire submission to his will had been noted as well, so -that in Esther’s opinion Wilford was a domestic tyrant, and Katy was an -angel. Numerous were her conjectures as to the cause of the present -trouble, which must be something serious, or Katy had never telegraphed -for Dr. Grant, as she felt certain she had. - -“Whatever it is, I’ll stand her friend,” she said, as she bent over her -young mistress, who was talking of Genevra and the grave at St. Mary’s, -which was no grave at all. - -She was growing worse very rapidly, and frightened at last at the -wildness of her eyes, and her constant ravings, Esther went down to -Morris, and bade him come quickly to Mrs. Cameron. - -“She is taken out of her head, and talks so queer and raving.” - -Morris had expected this, but he was not prepared to find the fever so -high, or the symptoms so alarming. - -“Shall I send for Mrs. Cameron and another doctor, please?” Esther -asked. - -Morris had faith in himself, and he would rather no other hand should -minister to Katy; but he knew he could not stay there long, for there -were those at home who needed his services. Added to this, her family -physician might know her constitution, now, better than he knew it, and -so he answered that it would be well to send for both the doctor and -Mrs. Cameron. - -It was just daylight when Mrs. Cameron arrived, questioning Esther -closely, and appearing much surprised when she heard of Dr. Grant’s -presence in the house. That he came by chance, she never doubted, and as -Esther merely answered the questions put directly to her, Mrs. Cameron -had no suspicion of the telegram. - -“I am glad he happened here at this time,” she said. “I have the utmost -confidence in his skill. Still it may be well for Dr. Craig to see her. -I think that is his ring.” - -The city and country physicians agreed exactly with regard to Katy’s -illness, or rather the city physician bowed in acquiescence when Morris -said to him that the fever raging so high had, perhaps, been induced by -natural causes, but was greatly aggravated by some sudden shock to the -nervous system. This was before Mrs. Cameron came up, but it was -repeated in her presence by Dr. Craig, who thus left the impression that -the idea had originated with himself, rather than with Dr. Grant, as -perhaps he thought it had. He was at first inclined to patronize the -country doctor, but soon found that he had reckoned without his host. -Morris knew more of Katy, and quite as much of medicine as he did -himself, and when Mrs. Cameron begged him to stay longer, he answered -that her son’s wife was as safe in his brother physician’s hands as she -could be in his. - -Mrs. Cameron was very glad that Dr. Grant was there, she said. It was -surely Providence who sent him to New York on that particular day, and -Morris shivered as he wondered if it were wrong not to explain the whole -to her. - -“Perhaps it is best she should not know of the telegram,” he thought, -and merely bowing to her remarks, he turned to Katy, who was growing -very restless and moaning as if in pain. - -“It hurts,” she said, turning her head from side to side; “I am lying on -Genevra.” - -With a sudden start, Mrs. Cameron drew nearer, but when she remembered -the little grave at Silverton, she said, “It’s the baby she’s talking -about.” - -Morris knew better, and as Katy still continued to move her head as if -something were really hurting her, he passed his hand under her pillow -and drew out the picture she must have kept near her as long as her -consciousness remained. He knew it was Genevra’s picture, and was about -to lay it away, when the cover dropped into his hand, and his eye fell -upon a face which was not new to him, while an involuntary exclamation -of surprise escaped him, as Katy’s assertion that Genevra was living was -thus fully confirmed. Marian had not changed past recognition since her -early girlhood, and Morris knew the likeness at once, pitying Katy more -than he had pitied her yet, as he remembered how closely Marian Hazelton -had been interwoven with her married life, and the life of the little -child which had borne her name. - -“What is that?” Mrs. Cameron asked, and Morris passed the case to her, -saying, “A picture which was under Katy’s pillow.” - -Morris did not look at Mrs. Cameron, but tried to busy himself with the -medicines upon the stand, while she too recognized Genevra Lambert, -wondering how it came in Katy’s possession and how much she knew of -Wilford’s secret. - -“She must have been rummaging,” she thought, and then as she remembered -what Esther had said about her mistress appearing sick and unhappy, when -her husband left home, she repaired to the parlor and summoning Esther -to her presence, asked her again, “When she first observed traces of -indisposition in Mrs. Cameron.” - -“When she came home from that dinner at your house. She was just as pale -as death, and her teeth fairly chattered as I took off her things.” - -“Dinner? What dinner?” Mrs. Cameron asked, and Esther replied, “Why, the -night Mr. Wilford went away or was to go. She changed her mind about -meeting him at your house, and said she meant to surprise him. But she -came home before Mr. Cameron, looking like a ghost, and saying she was -sick. It’s my opinion something she ate at dinner hurt her.” - -“Very likely, yes. You can go now,” Mrs. Cameron said, and Esther -departed, never dreaming how much light she had inadvertently thrown -upon the mystery. - -“She must have been in the library and heard all we said,” Mrs. Cameron -thought, as she nervously twisted the fringe of her breakfast shawl. “I -remember we talked of Genevra, and that we both heard a strange sound -from some quarter, but thought it came from the kitchen. That was Katy. -She was there all the time and let herself quietly out of the house. I -wonder does Wilford know,” and then there came over her an intense -desire for Wilford to come home—a desire which was not lessened when she -returned to Katy’s room and heard her talking of Genevra and the grave -at St. Mary’s “where nobody was buried.” - -In a tremor of distress, lest she should betray something which Morris -must not know Mrs. Cameron tried to hush her, talking as if it was the -baby she meant, but Katy answered promptly, “It’s Genevra Lambert I -mean, Wilford’s other wife; the one across the sea. She was innocent, -too—as innocent as I, whom you both deceived.” - -Here was a phase of affairs for which Mrs. Cameron was not prepared, and -excessively mortified that Morris should hear Katy’s ravings, she tried -again to quiet her, consoling herself with the reflection that as Morris -was Katy’s cousin, he would not repeat what he heard, and feeling -gratified now that Dr. Craig was absent, as she could not be so sure of -him. If Katy’s delirium continued, no one must be admitted to the room -except those who could be trusted, and as there had been already several -rings, she said to Esther that as the fever was probably malignant and -contagious, no one must be admitted to the house with the expectation of -seeing the patient, while the servants were advised to stay in their own -quarters, except as their services might be needed elsewhere. And so it -was that by the morrow the news had spread of some infectious disease at -No. —— on Madison Square, which was shunned as carefully as if smallpox -itself had been raging there instead of the brain fever, which increased -so fast that Morris suggested to Mrs. Cameron that she telegraph for -Wilford. - -“They might find him, and they might not,” Mother Cameron said. “They -could try, at all events,” and in a few moments the telegraphic wires -were carrying the news of Katy’s illness, both to the west, where -Wilford had gone, and to the east, where Helen read with a blanched -cheek that Katy perhaps was dying, and she must hasten to New York. - -This was Mrs. Cameron’s suggestion, wrung out by the knowing that some -woman besides herself was needed in the sick room, and by feeling that -Helen could be trusted with the story of the first marriage, which Katy -talked of constantly, telling it so accurately that only a fool would -fail of being convinced that there was much of truth in those delirious -ravings. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVI. - THE FEVER AND ITS RESULTS. - - -Wilford could not forget Katy’s face, so full of reproach. It followed -him continually, and was the magnet which turned his steps homeward -before his business was quite done, and before the telegram had found -him. Thus it was with no knowledge of existing circumstances that he -reached New York just at the close of the day, and ordering a carriage, -was driven rapidly towards home. All the shutters in the front part of -the house were closed, and not a ray of light was to be seen in the -parlors as he entered the hall, where the gas was burning dimly. - -“Katy is at home,” he said, as he went into the library, where a shawl -was thrown across a chair, as if some one had lately been there. - -It was his mother’s shawl, and Wilford was wondering if she was there, -when down the stairs came a man’s rapid step, and the next moment Dr. -Grant came into the room, starting when he saw Wilford, who felt -intuitively that something was wrong. - -“Is Katy sick?” was his first question, which Morris answered in the -affirmative, holding him back as he was starting for her room, and -saying to him, “Let me send your mother to you first.” - -What passed between Wilford and his mother was never known exactly, but -at the close of the interview Mrs. Cameron was very pale, while -Wilford’s face looked dark and anxious as he said, “You think he -understands it then?” - -“Yes, in part, but the world will be none the wiser for his knowledge. I -knew Dr. Grant before you did, and there are few men living whom I -respect as much, and no one whom I would trust as soon.” - -Mrs. Cameron had paid a high compliment to Morris Grant, and Wilford -bowed in assent, asking next how she managed Dr. Craig. - -“That was easy, inasmuch as he believed it an insane freak of Katy’s to -have no other physician than her cousin. It was quite natural, he said, -adding that she was as safe with Dr. Grant as any one. And I was glad, -for I could not have a stranger know of that affair. You will go up -now,” Mrs. Cameron continued, and a moment after Wilford stood in the -dimly-lighted room, where Katy was talking of Genevra and St. Mary’s, -and was only kept upon her pillow by the strong arm of Morris, who stood -over her when Wilford entered, trying in vain to quiet her. - -She knew him, and writhing herself away from Morris’s arms, she said to -him, “Genevra is not in that grave at St. Mary’s; she is living, and you -are not my husband. So you can leave the house at once. Morris will -settle the estate, and no bill shall be sent in for your board and -lodging.” - -In some moods Wilford would have smiled at being thus summarily -dismissed from his own house; but he was too sore now, too sensitive to -smile, and his voice was rather severe as he laid his hand on Katy’s and -said, - -“Don’t be foolish, Katy. Don’t you know me? I am Wilford, your husband.” - -“That _was_, you mean,” Katy rejoined, drawing her hand quickly away. -“Go find your first love, where bullets fall like hail, and where there -is pain, and blood, and carnage. Genevra is there.” - -She would not let him come near her, and grew so excited with his -presence that he was forced either to leave the room or sit where she -could not see him. He chose the latter, and from his seat by the door -watched with a half jealous, angry heart, Morris Grant doing for his -wife what he should have done. - -With Morris Katy was gentle as a little child, talking still of Genevra, -but talking quietly, and in a way which did not wear her out as fast as -her excitement did. - -“What God hath joined together let not man put asunder,” was the text -from which she preached several short sermons as the night wore on, but -just as the morning dawned she fell into the first quiet sleep she had -had during the last twenty-four hours. And while she slept Wilford -ventured near enough to see the sunken cheeks and hollow eyes which -wrung a groan from him as he turned to Morris, and asked what he -supposed was the immediate cause of her sudden illness? - -“A terrible shock, the nature of which I understand, but you have -nothing to fear from me,” Morris replied. “I accuse you to no man, but -leave you to settle it with your conscience whether you did right to -deceive her so long.” - -Morris spoke as one having authority, and Wilford simply bowed his head, -feeling no resentment towards one who had ventured to reprove him. -Afterwards he might remember it differently, but now he was too anxious -to keep Morris there to quarrel with him, and so he made no reply, but -sat watching Katy as she slept, wondering if she would die, and feeling -how terrible life would be without her. Suddenly Genevra’s warning words -rang in his ear. - -“God will not forgive you for the wrong you have done me.” - -Was Genevra right? Had God remembered all this time, and overtaken him -at last? It might be, and with a groan Wilford hid his face in his -hands, believing that he repented of his sin, and not knowing that his -fancied repentance arose merely from the fact that he had been detected. -Could the last few days be blotted out, and Katy stand just where she -did, with no suspicion of him, he would have cast his remorse to the -winds, and as it is not such repentance God accepts, Wilford had only -begun to sip the cup of retribution presented to his lips. - -Worn out with watching and waiting, Mrs. Cameron, who would suffer -neither Juno nor Bell to come near the house, waited uneasily for the -arrival of the New Haven train, which she hoped would bring Helen to her -aid. Under ordinary circumstances she would rather not have met her, for -her presence would keep the letter so constantly in mind; but now -anybody who could be trusted was welcome, and when at last there came a -cautious ring, she went herself to the hall, starting back with -undisguised vexation when she saw the timid-looking woman following -close behind Helen, and whom the latter presented as “My mother, Mrs. -Lennox.” - -Convinced that Morris’s sudden journey to New York had something to do -with Katy’s illness, and almost distracted with fears for her daughter’s -life, Mrs. Lennox could not remain at home and wait for the tardy mail -or careless telegraph. She must go to her child, and casting off her -dread of Wilford’s displeasure, she had come with Helen, and was bowing -meekly to Mrs. Cameron, who neither offered her hand nor gave any token -of greeting except a distant bow and a simple “Good morning, madam.” - -But Mrs. Lennox was too anxious to notice the lady’s haughty manner as -she led them to the library and then went for her son. Wilford was not -glad to see his mother-in-law, but he tried to be polite, answering her -questions civilly, and when she asked if it were true that he had sent -for Morris, assuring her that it was not. “Dr. Grant happened here very -providentially, and I hope to keep him until the crisis is past, -although he has just told me he must go back to-morrow.” It hurt -Wilford’s pride that _she_, whom he considered greatly his inferior, -should learn his secret; but it could not now be helped, and within an -hour after her arrival she was looking curiously at him for an -explanation of the strange things she heard from Katy’s lips. - -“_Was_ you a widower when you married my daughter?” she said to him, -when at last Helen left the room and she was alone with him. - -“Yes, madam,” he replied, “some would call me so, though I was divorced -from my wife. As this was a matter which did not in any way concern your -daughter, I deemed it best not to tell her. Latterly she has found it -out, and it is having a very extraordinary effect upon her.” - -And this was all Mrs. Lennox knew until alone with Helen, who told her -the story as she had heard it from Morris. His sudden journey to New -York was thus accounted for, and Helen explained it to her mother, -advising her to say nothing of it, as it might be better for Wilford not -to know that Katy had telegraphed for Morris. It seemed very necessary -that Dr. Grant should return to Silverton, and the day following Helen’s -arrival in New York, he made arrangements to do so. - -“You have other physicians here,” he said to Wilford, who objected to -his leaving. “Dr. Craig will do as well as I.” - -Wilford admitted that he might, but it was with a sinking heart that he -saw Morris depart, and then went to Katy, who began to grow very -restless and uneasy, bidding him go away and send Dr. Morris back. It -was in vain that they administered the medicine just as Morris directed. -Katy grew constantly worse, until Mrs. Lennox asked that another doctor -be called. But to this Wilford would not listen. Fear of exposure and -censure was stronger than his fears for Katy’s life, which seemed -balancing upon a thread as that long night and the next day went by. -Three times Wilford telegraphed for Morris, and it was with unfeigned -joy that he welcomed him back at last, and heard that he had so arranged -his business as to stay with Katy while the danger lasted. - -With a monotonous sameness the days now came and went, people still -shunning the house as if the plague was there. Once, Bell Cameron came -round to call on Helen, holding her breath as she passed through the -hall, and never asking to go near Katy’s room. Two or three times, too, -Mrs. Banker’s carriage stood at the door, and Mrs. Banker herself came -in, appearing so cool and distant that Helen could scarcely keep back -her tears as she guessed the cause. Mark, too, was in the city, having -returned with the Seventh Regiment; but from Esther, Helen learned that -he was about joining the army as captain of a company, composed of the -finest men in the city. The next she heard was from Mrs. Banker, who, -incidentally, remarked, “I shall be very lonely now that Mark is gone. -He left me to-day for Washington.” - -There were tears on the mother’s face, and her lip quivered as she tried -to keep them back, by looking from the window into the street, instead -of at her companion, who, overcome with the rush of feeling which swept -over her, laid her face on the sofa arm and sobbed aloud. - -“Why, Helen! Miss Lennox, I am surprised! I had supposed—I was not -aware—I did not think you would care,” Mrs. Banker exclaimed, coming -closer to Helen, who stammered out, “I beg you will excuse me, I cannot -help it. I care for _all_ our soldiers. It seems so terrible.” - -At the words “I care for _all_ the soldiers,” a shadow of disappointment -flitted over Mrs. Banker’s face. She knew her son had offered himself -and been refused, as she supposed; and she believed too that Helen had -given publicity to the affair, fueling justly indignant at this breach -of confidence and lack of delicacy in one whom she had liked so much, -and whom she still liked, in spite of the wounded pride which had -prompted her to appear so cold and distant. - -“Perhaps it is all a mistake,” she thought, as she continued standing by -Helen, “or it may be she has relented,” and for a moment she felt -tempted to ask why her boy had been refused. - -But Mark would not be pleased with her interference, she knew, and so -the golden moment fled, and when she left the house, the -misunderstanding between herself and Helen was just as wide as ever. -Wearily after that the days passed with Helen until all thoughts of -herself were forgotten in the terrible fear that death was really -brooding over the pillow where Katy lay, insensible to all that was -passing around her. The lips were silent now, and Wilford had nothing to -fear from the tongue hitherto so busy. Juno, Bell, and father Cameron -all came to see her, dropping tears upon the face looking so old and -worn with suffering. Mrs. Cameron, too, was very sorry, very sad, but -managed to find some consolation in mentally arranging a grand funeral, -which would do honor to her son, and wondering if “those Barlows in -Silverton would think they must attend.” And while she thus arranged, -the mother who had given birth to Katy wrestled in earnest prayer that -God would spare her child, or at least grant some space in which she -might be told of the world to which she was hastening. What Wilford -suffered none could guess. His face was very white, and its expression -almost stern, as he sat by the young wife who had been his for little -more than two brief years, and who, but for his sin, might not have been -lying there, unconscious of the love and grief around her. With lip -compressed, and brows firmly knit together, Morris, too, sat watching -Katy, feeling for the pulse, and bending his ear to catch the faintest -breath which came from her parted lips, while in his heart there was an -earnest prayer for the safety of the soul, hovering so evenly between -this world and the next. He did not ask that she might live, for if all -were well hereafter he knew it was better for her to die in her young -womanhood, than to live till the heart, now so sad and bleeding, had -grown calloused with sorrow. And yet it was terrible to think of Katy -dead; terrible to think of that face and form laid away beneath the turf -of Greenwood, where those who loved her best could seldom go to weep. - -And as they sat there thus, the night shadows stole into the room, and -the hours crept on till from a city tower a clock struck _ten_, and -Morris, motioning Helen to his side, bade her go with her mother to -rest. “We do not need you here,” he said; “your presence can do no good. -Should a change occur, you shall be told at once.” - -Thus importuned, Helen and her mother withdrew, and only Morris and -Wilford remained to watch that heavy slumber, so nearly resembling -death. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVII. - THE CONFESSION. - - -Gradually, the noise in the streets died away; the tread of feet, the -rumbling wheels, and the tinkle of car bells ceased, and not a sound was -heard, save as the distant fire bells pealed forth their warning voices, -or some watchman went hurrying by. The great city was asleep, and to -Morris the silence brooding over the countless throng was deeper, more -solemn, than the silence of the country, where nature gives out her own -mysterious notes and lullabies for her sleeping children. Slowly the -minutes went by, and Morris became at last aware that Wilford’s eyes, -instead of resting on the pallid face, which seemed to grow each moment -more pallid and ghastly, were fixed on _him_ with an expression which -made him drop the pale hand he was holding between his own, _pooring_ it -occasionally, as a mother might _poor_ and pity the hand of her dying -baby. - -Before his marriage, a jealous thought of Morris Grant had found a -lodgment in Wilford’s breast; but he had tried to drive it out, and -fancied that he had succeeded, experiencing a sudden shock when he felt -it lifting its green head, and poisoning his mind against the man who -was doing for Katy only what a brother might do. He forgot that it was -his own entreaties which kept Morris there, away from his Silverton -patients, who were missing him so much, and complaining of his absence. -Jealous men never reason clearly, and in this case, Wilford did not -reason at all, but jumped readily at his conclusion, calling to his aid -as proof all that he had ever seen pass between Katy and her cousin. -That Morris Grant loved Katy was, after a few moments’ reflection, as -fixed a fact in his mind, as that she lay there between them, moaning -feebly, as if about to speak. Years before, 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. -There was a clenching of his fist, a knitting of his brows, and a -gathering blackness in his eyes as he listened while Katy, rousing -partially from her lethargy, talked of the days when she was a little -girl, and Morris had built the play-house for her by the brook, where -the thorn-apples grew and the waters fell over the smooth, white rocks. - -“Take me back there,” she said, “and let me lie on the grass again. It -is so long since I was there, and I’ve suffered so much since then. -Wilford meant to be kind, but he did not understand or know how I loved -the country with its birds and flowers and the grass by the well, where -the shadows come and go. I used to wonder where they were going, and one -day when I watched them I was waiting for Wilford and wondering if he -would ever come again. Would it have been better if he never had?” - -Wilford’s body shook as he bent forward to listen, while Katy continued: - -“Were there no Genevra, I should not think so, but there is, and yet -Morris said that made no difference when I telegraphed for him to come -and take me away.” - -Morris felt keenly the awkwardness of his position, but he could offer -no explanation then. He could not speak with those fiery eyes upon him, -and he sat erect in his chair, while Katy talked of Silverton, until her -voice grew very faint, ceasing at last as she fell into a second sleep, -heavier, more death-like, than the first. Something in her face alarmed -Morris, and in spite of the eyes watching him he bent every energy to -retain the feeble pulse, and the breath which grew shorter with each -respiration. - -“Do you think her dying?” Wilford asked, and Morris replied, “The look -about the mouth and nose is like the look which so often precedes -death.” - -And that was all they said until another hour went by, when Morris’s -hand was laid upon the forehead and moved up under the golden hair where -there were drops of perspiration. - -“She is saved! thank God, Katy is saved!” was his joyful exclamation, -and burying his face in his hands, he wept for a moment like a child. - -On Wilford’s face there was no trace of tears. On the contrary, he -seemed hardening into stone, and in his heart fierce passions were -contending for the mastery. What did Katy mean by sending for Morris to -take her away? Did she send for him, and was that the cause of his being -there? If so, there was something between the cousins more than mere -friendship. The thought was a maddening one. And, rising slowly at last, -Wilford came round to Morris’s side, and grasping his shoulder, said, - -“Morris Grant, you love Katy Cameron.” - -Like the peal of a bell on the frosty air the words rang through the -room, starting Morris from his bowed attitude, and for an instant -curdling the blood in his veins, for he understood now the meaning of -the look which had so puzzled him. In Morris’s heart there was a -moment’s hesitancy to know just what to answer—an ejaculatory prayer for -guidance—and then lifting up his head, his calm blue eyes met the eyes -of black unflinchingly as he replied, - -“I have loved her always.” - -A blaze like sheet lightning shot from beneath Wilford’s eyelashes, and -a taunting sneer curled his lip as he said, - -“_You_, a _saint_, confess to this?” - -It was in keeping with human nature for Wilford to thrust Morris’s -religion in his face, forgetting that never on this side the eternal -world can man cease wholly to sin; that so long as flesh and blood -remain, there will be temptation, error, and wrong, even among God’s -children. Morris felt the sneer keenly; but the consciousness of peace -with his Maker sustained him in the shock, and with the same tone he had -at first assumed, he said, - -“Should my being what you call a saint prevent my confessing what I -did?” - -“No, not the confession, but the fact,” Wilford answered, savagely. “How -do you reconcile your acknowledged love for Katy with the injunctions of -the Bible whose doctrines you indorse?” - -“A man cannot always control his feelings, but he can strive to overcome -them and put them aside. One does not sin in _being_ tempted, but in -listening _to_ the temptation.” - -“Then according to your own reasoning you have sinned, for you not only -have been tempted but have yielded to the temptation,” Wilford retorted, -with a sinister look of exultation in his black eyes. - -For a moment Morris was silent, while a struggle of some kind seemed -going on in his mind, and then he said, - -“I never thought to lay open to you a secret which, after myself, is, I -believe, known to only one living being.” - -“And that one—is—is Katy?” Wilford exclaimed, his voice hoarse with -passion, and his eyes flashing with fire. - -“No, not Katy. She has no suspicion of the pain which, since I saw her -made another’s, has eaten into my heart, making me grow old so fast, and -blighting my early manhood.” - -Something in Morris’s tone and manner made Wilford relax his grasp upon -the arm, and sent him back to his chair while Morris continued, - -“Most men would shrink from talking to a husband of the love they bore -his wife, and an hour ago I should have shrunk from it too, but you have -forced me to it, and now you must listen while I tell you of my love for -Katy. It began longer ago than she can remember—began when she was my -baby sister, and I hushed her in my arms to sleep, kneeling by her -cradle and watching her with a feeling I have never been able to define. -She was in all my thoughts, her face upon the printed page of every book -I studied, and her voice in every strain of music I ever heard. Then -when she grew older, I used to watch the frolicsome child by the hour, -building castles of the future, when she would be a woman, and I a man, -with a man’s right to win her. I know that she shielded me from many a -snare into which young men are apt to fall, for when the temptation was -greatest, and I was at its verge, a thought of her was sufficient to -lead me back to virtue. I carried her in my heart across the sea, and -said when I go back I will ask her to be mine. I went back, but at my -first meeting with Katy after her return from Canandaigua, she told me -of _you_, and I knew then that hope for me was gone. God grant that you -may never experience what I experienced on that day which made her your -wife, and I saw her go away. It seemed almost as if God had forgotten me -as the night after the bridal I sat alone at home, and met that dark -hour of sorrow. In the midst of it _Helen_ came, discovering my secret, -and sympathizing with me until the pain at my heart grew less, and I -could pray that God would grant me a feeling for Katy which should not -be sinful. And He did at last, so I could think of her without a wish -that she was mine. Times there were when the old love would burst forth -with fearful power, and then I wished that I might die. These were my -moments of temptation which I struggled to overcome. Sometimes a song, a -strain of music, or a ray of moonlight on the floor would bring the past -to me so vividly that I would stagger beneath the burden, and feel that -it was greater than I could bear. But God was very merciful, and sent me -work which took up all my time, and drove me away from my own pain to -soothe the pain of others. When Katy came to us last summer there was an -hour of trial, when faith in God grew weak, and I was tempted to -question the justice of His dealing with me. But that too passed, and in -my love for your child I forgot the mother in part, looking upon her as -a sister rather than the Katy I had loved so well. I would have given my -life to have saved that child for her, even though it was a bar between -us, something which separated her from me more than the words she spoke -at the altar. Though dead, that baby is still a bar, and Katy is not the -same to me she was before that little life came into being. It is not -wrong to love her as I do now. I feel no pang of conscience save when -something unexpected carries me back to the old ground where I have -fought so many battles.” - -Morris paused a moment, while Wilford said, “She spoke of telegraphing -for you. Why was that, and when?” - -Thus interrogated, Morris told of the message which had brought him to -New York, and narrated as cautiously as possible the particulars of the -interview which followed. - -Morris’s manner was that of a man who spoke with perfect sincerity, and -it carried conviction to Wilford’s heart, disarming him for a time of -the fierce anger and resentment he had felt while listening to Morris’s -story. Acting upon the good impulse of the moment, he arose, and -offering his hand to Morris, said, - -“Forgive me that I ever doubted you. It was natural that you should -come, but foolish in Katy to send or think Genevra is living. I have -seen her grave myself. I know that she is dead. Did Katy name any one -whom she believed to be Genevra?” - -“No one. She merely said she had seen the original of the picture,” -Morris replied. - -“A fancy,—a mere whim,” Wilford muttered to himself, as, greatly -disquieted and terribly humbled, he paced the room moodily, trying not -to think hard thoughts either against his wife or Dr. Grant, who, -feeling that it would be pleasanter for Wilford if he were gone, -suggested returning to Silverton at once, inasmuch as the crisis was -past and Katy out of danger. There was a struggle in Wilford’s mind as -to the answer he should make to this suggestion, but at last he -signified his willingness for the doctor to leave when he thought best. - -It was broad day when Katy woke, so weak as to be unable to turn her -head upon the pillow, but in her eyes the light of reason was shining, -and she glanced wonderingly, first at Helen, who had come in, and then -at Wilford, as if trying to comprehend what had happened. - -“Have I been sick?” she asked in a whisper, and Wilford, bending over -her, replied, “Yes, very sick for nearly two whole weeks—ever since I -left home that morning, you know?” - -“Yes,” and Katy shivered a little. “Yes, I know. But where is Morris? He -was here the last I can remember.” - -Wilford’s face grew dark at once, and stepping back as Morris came in, -he said, “She asks for you.” Then with a rising feeling of resentment he -watched them, while Morris spoke to Katy, telling her she must not allow -herself in any way to be excited. - -“Have I been crazy? Have I talked much?” she asked; and when Morris -replied in the affirmative, she said, “Of whom have I talked most?” - -“Of _Genevra_,” was the answer, and Katy continued, - -“Did I mention any 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. It hardly seemed right for him -to go just then, but the only one who could have kept him maintained a -frigid silence with regard to a longer stay, and so the first train -which left New York for Springfield carried Dr. Grant, and Katy was -without a physician. - -Wilford had hoped that Mrs. Lennox, too, would see the propriety of -accompanying Morris, but she would not leave Katy, and Wilford was fain -to submit to what he could not help. No explanation whatever had he -given to Mrs. Lennox or Helen with regard to Genevra. He was too proud -for that, but his mother had deemed it wise to smooth the matter over as -much as possible, and enjoin upon them both the necessity of secrecy. - -“When I tell you that neither my husband nor daughters know it, you will -understand that I am greatly in earnest in wishing it kept,” she said. -“It was a most unfortunate affair, and though the divorce is, of course, -to be lamented, it is better that she died. We never could have received -her as our equal.” - -“Was anything the matter, except that she was poor?” Mrs. Lennox asked, -with as much dignity as was in her nature to assume. - -“Well, no. She had a good education, I believe, and was very pretty; but -it makes trouble always where there is a great inequality between a -husband’s family and that of his wife.” - -Poor Mrs. Lennox understood this perfectly, but she was too much afraid -of the great lady to venture a reply, and a tear rolled down her cheek -as she wet the napkin for Katy’s head, and wished she had back again the -daughter whose family the Camerons despised. The atmosphere of Madison -Square did not suit Mrs. Lennox, especially when, as the days went by -and Katy began to amend, troops of gay ladies called, mistaking her for -the nurse, and staring a little curiously when told she was Mrs. -Cameron’s mother. Of course Wilford chafed and fretted at what he could -not help, making himself so generally disagreeable that Helen at last -suggested returning home. There was a faint remonstrance on his part, -but Helen did not waver in her decision, and the next day was fixed upon -for her departure. - -“You don’t know how I dread your going, or how wretched I shall be -without you,” Katy said, when for a few moments they were alone. -“Everything which once made me happy has been removed or changed. Baby -is dead, and Wilford, oh! Helen, I sometimes wish I had not heard of -Genevra, for I am afraid it can never be with us as it was once; I have -not the same trust in him, and he seems so changed.” - -As well as she could, Helen comforted her sister, and commending her to -One who would care for her far more than earthly friends could do, she -bade her good-bye, and with her mother went back to Silverton. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVIII. - DOMESTIC TROUBLES. - - -Wilford was in a most unhappy frame of mind. He had been humbled to the -very dust, and it was Katy who had done it—Katy, towards whom his heart -kept hardening as he thought over all the past. What right had she to go -to his mother’s after having once declined; or, being there, what right -had she to listen and thus learn the secret he would almost have died to -keep; or, having learned it, why need she have been so much excited, and -sent for _Dr. Grant_ to tell her if she were really a wife, and if not -to take her away? That was the point which hurt him most, for added to -it was the galling fact that Morris Grant loved his wife, and was -undoubtedly more worthy of her than himself. He had said that he forgave -Morris, and at the time he said it he fancied he did, but as the days -went by, and thought was all the busier from the moody silence he -maintained, there gradually came to life a feeling of hatred for the man -whose name he could not hear without a frown, while he watched Katy -closely to detect, if possible, some sign by which he should know that -Morris’s love was reciprocated. But Katy was innocence itself, and tried -so hard to do her duty as a wife, going often to the Friend of whom -Helen had told her, and finding there the grace which helped her bear -what otherwise she could not have borne and lived. The entire history of -her life during that wretched winter was never told save as it was -written on her face, which was a volume in itself of meek and patient -suffering. - -Wilford had never mentioned Genevra to her since the day of his return, -and Katy sometimes felt it would be well to talk that matter over. It -might lead to a better understanding than existed between them now, and -dissipate the cloud which hung so darkly on their domestic horizon. But -Wilford repulsed all her advances on that subject, and Genevra was a -dead name in their household. Times there were when for an entire day he -would appear like his former self, caressing her with unwonted -tenderness, but never asked her forgiveness for all he had made her -suffer. He was too proud to do that, and his tenderness always passed -away when he remembered Morris Grant and Katy’s remark to Helen which he -accidentally overheard. “I am afraid it can never be with us as it was -once. I have not the same trust in him.” - -“She had no right to complain of me,” he thought, forgetting the time -when he had been guilty of a similar offence in a more aggravated form. -He could not reason upon anything naturally, and matters grew daily -worse, while Katy’s face grew whiter and her voice sadder in its tone. - -When the Lenten days came on, oh how Katy longed to be in Silverton—to -kneel again in its quiet church, and offer up her penitential prayers -with the loved ones at home. At last she ventured to ask Wilford if she -might go, her spirits rising when he did not refuse her request at once, -but asked, - -“Whom do you wish to see the most?” - -His black eyes seemed reading her through, and something in their -expression brought to her face the blush he construed according to his -jealousy, and when she answered, “I wish to see them all,” he retorted, - -“Say, rather, you wish to see _that doctor_, who has loved you so long, -and who but for me would have asked you to be his wife!” - -“What doctor, Wilford? whom do you mean?” she asked, and Wilford -replied, - -“Dr. Grant, of course. Did you never suspect it?” - -“Never,” and Katy’s face grew very white, while Wilford continued, - -“I had it from his own lips; he sitting on one side of you and I upon -the other. I so forgot myself as to charge him with loving you, and he -did not deny it, but confessed as pretty a piece of romance as I ever -read, except that, according to his story, it was a one-sided affair, -confined wholly to himself. _You_ never dreamed of it, he said.” - -“Never, no never,” Katy said, panting for her breath, and remembering -suddenly many things which confirmed what she had heard. - -“Poor Morris, how my thoughtlessness must have wounded him,” she -murmured, and then all the pent-up passion in Wilford’s heart burst out -in an impetuous storm. - -He did not charge his wife directly with returning Morris’s love; but he -said she was sorry she had not known it earlier, asking her pointedly if -it were not so, and pressing her for an answer, until the bewildered -creature cried out, - -“Oh, I don’t know. I never thought of it before.” - -“But you can think of it now,” Wilford continued, his cold, icy tone -making Katy shiver, as, more to herself than to him, she whispered, - -“A life at Linwood with him would be perfect rest, compared with -_this_.” - -Wilford had goaded her on to say that which roused him to a pitch of -frenzy. - -“You can go to your _rest_ at Linwood as soon as you like, and I will go -my way,” he whispered hoarsely, and believing himself the most injured -man in existence, he left the house, and Katy heard his step, as it went -furiously down the steps. For a time she sat stunned with what she had -heard, and then there came stealing into her heart a glad feeling that -Morris deemed her worthy of his love when she had so often feared the -contrary. And in this she was not faithless to Wilford. She could pray -with just as pure a heart as before, and she did pray, thanking God for -the love of this good man, but asking that long ere this he might have -learned to be content without her. Never once did the thought “It might -have been,” intrude itself upon her, nor did she send one regret after -the life she had missed. She seemed to rise above all that, and Wilford, -had he read her heart, would have found no evil there. - -“Poor Morris,” she kept repeating, while little throbs of pleasure went -dancing through her veins, and the world was not one half so dreary for -knowing he had loved her. Towards Wilford, too, her heart went out in a -fresh gush of tenderness, for she knew how one of his jealous nature -must have suffered. - -And all that day she was thinking of him, and how pleasantly she would -meet him when he came home at night, and how she would try to win him -from the dark silent mood now so habitual to him. More than usual pains -she took with her toilet, arranging her bright hair in the long, glossy -curls, which she knew he used to admire, and making sundry little -changes in her black dress. Excitement had brought a faint flush to her -cheeks, and she was conscious of a feeling of gratification that for the -first time in months she was looking like her former self. Slowly the -minutes crept on, and the silver-toned clock in the dining-room said it -was time for Wilford to come; then the night shadows gathered in the -rooms, and the gas was lighted in the hall and in the parlor, where -Katy’s face was pressed against the window pane, and Katy’s eyes peered -anxiously out into the darkening streets, but saw no one alighting at -their door. Wilford did not come. Neither six, nor seven, nor eight -brought him home, and Katy sat down alone to her dinner, which, save the -soup and coffee, was removed untasted. She could not eat with the -terrible dread at her heart that this long protracted absence portended -something more than common. Ten, eleven, and twelve struck from a -distant tower. He _had_ stayed out as late as that frequently, but -rarely later, and Katy listened again for him, until the clock struck -one, and she grew sick with fear and apprehension. It was a long, long, -wretched night, but morning came at last, and at an early hour Katy -drove down to Wilford’s office, finding no one there besides Tom Tubbs -and Mills, the other clerk. Katy could not conceal her agitation, and -her face was very white as she asked what time Mr. Cameron left the -office the previous day. - -If Katy had one subject more loyal than another it was young Tom Tubbs, -whose boyish blood had often boiled with rage at the cool manner with -which Wilford treated his wife, when, as she sometimes did, she came -into the office. Tom worshiped Katy Cameron, who, in his whispered -confidences to Mattie, was an angel, while Wilford was accused of being -an overbearing tyrant, whom Tom would like to thrash. He saw at once, -that something unusual was troubling her, and hastening to bring her a -chair, told her that Mr. Cameron left the office about four o’clock; -that he had spent the most of the day in his private office writing and -looking over papers; that he had given his clerks so many directions -with regard to certain matters, that Mills had remarked upon it, saying, -“It would seem as if he did not expect to be here to see to it himself;” -and this was all Katy could learn, but it was enough to increase the -growing terror at her heart, and dropping her veil, she went out to her -carriage, followed by Tom, who adjusted the gay robe across her lap, and -then looked wistfully after her as she drove up Broadway. - -“To father Cameron’s,” she said to the driver, who turned his horses -towards Fifth Avenue, where, just coming down the steps of his own -house, they met the elder Cameron. - -Katy would rather see him first alone, and motioning him to her side she -whispered: “Oh, father, is Wilford here?” - -“Wilford be——”; the old man did not say what, for the expression of -Katy’s face startled him. - -That there was something wrong, and father Cameron knew it, was Katy’s -conviction, and she gasped out, - -“Tell me the worst. Is Wilford dead?” - -Father Cameron was in the carriage by this time, and riding towards -Madison Square, for he did not care to introduce Katy into his -household, which, just at present, presented a scene of dire confusion -and dismay, occasioned by a note received from Wilford to the intent -that he had left New York, and did not know when he should return. - -“Katy can tell you why I go,” he added, and father Cameron was going to -Katy when she met him at his door. - -To Katy’s repeated question, “Is he dead?” he answered, “Worse than -that, I fear. He has left the city, and no one knows for what, unless -you do. From something he wrote, my wife is led to suppose there was -trouble between you two. Was there?” and father Cameron’s gray eyes -rested earnestly on the white, frightened face which looked up so -quickly as Katy gasped, - -“_There has_ been trouble—that is, he has not appeared quite the same -since——” - -She was interrupted by the carriage stopping before her door; but when -they were in the parlor, father Cameron said, - -“Go on now. Wilford has not been the same since when?” - -Thus importuned, Katy continued, - -“Since baby died. I think he blamed me as the cause of its death.” - -“Don’t babies die every day?” father Cameron growled, while Katy, -without considering that he had never heard of Genevra, continued, - -“And then it was worse after I found out about Genevra, his first wife.” - -“Genevra! Genevra, Wilford’s first wife! Thunder and lightning! what are -you talking about?” and father Cameron bent down to look in Katy’s face, -thinking she was going mad. - -But Katy was not mad, and knowing it was now too late to retract, she -told the story of Genevra Lambert to the old man, who, utterly -confounded, stalked up and down the room, kicking away chairs and -footstools, and whatever came in his way, and swearing promiscuously at -his wife and Wilford, whom he pronounced a precious pair of fools, with -a dreadful adjective appended to the _fools_, and an emphasis in his -voice which showed he meant what he said. - -“It’s all accounted for now,” he said; “the piles of money that boy had -abroad, his privacy with his mother, and all the other tomfoolery I -could not understand. Katy,” and pausing in his walk, Mr. Cameron came -close to his daughter-in-law, who was lying with her face upon the sofa. -“Katy, be glad your baby died. Had it lived it might have proved a -curse, just as mine have done—not all, for Bell, though fiery as a -pepper-pod, has some heart, some sense—and there was Jack, my _oldest_ -boy, a little fast it’s true, but when he died over the sea, I forgave -all that, and forgot the chair he broke over a tutor’s head, and the -scrapes for which I paid as high as a thousand at one time. He sowed his -wild oats, and died before he could reap them—died a good man, I -believe, and went to Heaven. Juno you know, and you can judge whether -she is such as would delight a parent’s heart; while Wilford, my only -boy, to deceive me so; I knew he was a fool in some things, but I did -trust Wilford.” - -The old man’s voice shook now, and Katy felt his tears dropping on her -hair as he stooped over her. Checking them, however, he said, - -“And he was cross because you found him out. Was there no other reason?” - -Katy thought of Dr. Morris, but she could not tell of that, and so she -answered, - -“There was—but please don’t ask me now. I can’t tell, only I was not to -blame. Believe me, father, I was not to blame.” - -“I’ll swear to that,” was the reply, and father Cameron commenced his -walking again, just as Esther came to the door with the morning letters. - -There was one from Wilford for Katy, who nervously tore off the envelope -and read as follows: - - “Will you be sorry when you read this and find that I am gone, that - you are free from the husband you do not love,—whom, perhaps, you - never loved, though I thought you did. I trusted you once, and now I - do not blame you as much as I ought, for you are young and easily - influenced. You are very susceptible to flattery, as was proven by - your career at Saratoga and Newport. I had no suspicion of you then, - but now that I know you better, I see that it was not all childish - simplicity which made you smile so graciously upon those who sought - your favor. You are a coquette, Katy, and the greater one because of - that semblance of artlessness which is the perfection of art. This, - however, I might forgive, if I had not learned that another man loved - you first and wished to make you his wife, while you, in your secret - heart, wish you had known it sooner. Don’t deny it, Katy; I saw it in - your face when I first told you of Dr. Grant’s confession, and I heard - it in your voice as well as in your words when you said ‘A life at - Linwood would be perfect rest compared with this.’ That hurt me - cruelly, Katy. I did not deserve it from one for whom I have done and - borne so much, and it was the final cause of my leaving you, for I am - going to Washington to enroll myself in the service of my country. You - will be happier without me for awhile, and perhaps when I return, - Linwood will not look quite the little paradise it does now. - - “I might reproach you with having telegraphed to Dr. Grant about that - miserable Genevra affair which you had not discretion enough to keep - to yourself. Few men would care to have their wives send for a former - lover in their absence and ask that lover to take them away. Your - saintly cousin, good as he is, cannot wonder at my vexation, or blame - me greatly for going away. Perhaps he will offer you comfort, both - religious and otherwise: but if you ever wish me to return, avoid him - as you would shun a deadly poison. Until I countermand the order, I - wish you to remain in the house which I bought for you. Helen and your - mother both may live with you, while father will have a general - oversight of your affairs; I shall send him a line to that effect. - - “YOUR DISAPPOINTED HUSBAND.” - -This was the letter, and there was perfect silence while Katy read it -through, Mr. Cameron never taking his eyes from her face, which turned -first white, then red, then spotted, and finally took a leaden hue as -Katy ran over the lines, comprehending the truth as she read, and when -the letter was finished, lifting her dry, tearless eyes to Father -Cameron, and whispering to herself, - -“Deserted!” - -She let him read the letter, and when he had finished, explained the -parts he did not understand, telling him now what Morris had -confessed—telling him too that in her first sorrow, when life and sense -seemed reeling, she had sent for Dr. Grant, knowing she could trust him -and be right in doing whatever he advised. - -“_Why_ did you say you sent for him—that is, _what_ was the special -reason?” Mr. Cameron asked, and Katy told him her belief that Genevra -was living—that it was she who made the bridal trousseau for Wilford’s -second wife, she who nursed his child until it died, giving to it her -own name, arraying it for the grave, and then leaving before the father -came. - -“I never told Wilford,” Katy said. “I felt as if I would rather he -should not know it yet. Perhaps I was wrong, but if so, I have been -terribly punished.” - -Mr. Cameron could not look upon the woman who stood before him, so -helpless and stricken in her desolation, and believe her wrong in -anything. The guilt lay in another direction, and when, as the terrible -reality that she was indeed a deserted wife came rushing over Katy, she -tottered toward him for help; he stretched his arms out for her, and -taking the sinking figure in them, laid it upon the sofa as gently, as -kindly, as Wilford had ever touched it in his most loving days. - -Katy did not faint nor weep. She was past all that; but her face was -like a piece of marble, and her eyes were like those of the hunted fawn -when the chase is at its height, and escape impossible. - -“Wilford will come back, of course,” the father said, “but that does not -help us now. What the plague—who is ringing that bell enough to break -the wire?” he added, as a sharp, rapid ring echoed through the house, -and was answered by Esther. “It’s my wife,” he continued, as he caught -the sound of her voice in the hall. - -“You stay here while I meet her first alone. _I’ll_ give it to her for -cheating me so long, and raising thunder generally!” - -Katy tried to protest, but he was half way down the stairs, and in a -moment more was with his wife, who, impatient at his long delay, had -come herself, armed and equipped, to censure Katy as the cause of -Wilford’s disappearance, and to demand of her what she had done. But the -lady who came in so haughty and indignant was a very different personage -from the lady who, after listening for fifteen minutes to a fearful -storm of oaths and reproaches, mingling with startling truths and bitter -denunciations against herself and her boy, sank into a chair, pale and -trembling, and overwhelmed with the harvest she was reaping. - -But her husband was not through with her yet. He had reserved the -bitterest drop for the last, and coming close to her he said, - -“And _who_ think you the woman is—this Genevra, Wilford’s and your -divorced wife? You were too proud to acknowledge an apothecary’s -daughter! See if you like better a dressmaker, a nurse to Katy’s baby, -_Marian Hazelton_!” - -He whispered the last name, and with a shriek the lady fainted. Mr. -Cameron would not summon a servant; and as there was no water in the -room, he walked to the window, and lifting the sash scraped from the -sill a handful of the light spring snow which had been falling since -morning. With this he brought his wife back to consciousness, and then -marked out her future course. - -“I know what is in your mind,” he said; “people _will_ talk about -Wilford’s going off so suddenly, and you would like to have all the -blame rest on Katy; but, madam, hear me: Just so sure as through your -means one breath of suspicion falls on her, I’ll _bla-at_ out the whole -story of Genevra. Then see who is censured. On the other hand, if you -hold your tongue, and make Juno hold hers, and stick to Katy through -thick and thin, acting as if you would like to swallow her whole, I’ll -say nothing of this Genevra. Is it a bargain?” - -“Yes,” came faintly from the sofa cushions, where Mrs. Cameron had -buried her face, sobbing in a confused, frightened way, and after a few -moments asking to see Katy, whom she kissed and caressed with unwonted -tenderness, telling her Wilford would come back, and adding, that in any -event no one could or should blame her. “Wilford was wrong to deceive -you about Genevra. I was wrong to let him; but we will have no more -concealments. You think she is living still—that she is Marian -Hazelton?” and Mrs. Cameron smoothed Katy’s hair as she talked, trying -to be motherly and kind, while her heart beat more painfully at thoughts -of a Genevra living, than it ever had at thoughts of a Genevra dead. - -She did not doubt the story, although it seemed so strange, and it made -her faint as she wondered if the world would ever know, and what it -would say if it did. That her husband would tell, if she failed in a -single point, she was sure; but she would not fail. She would swear Katy -was innocent of everything, if necessary, while Juno and Bell should -swear too. Of course, they must know, and she should tell them that very -night, she said to herself; and hence it was that in the gossip which -followed Wilford’s disappearance, not a word was breathed against Katy, -whose cause the family espoused so warmly,—Bell and the father because -they really loved and pitied her, and Mrs. Cameron and Juno because it -saved them from the disgrace which would have fallen on Wilford, had the -fashionable world known then of Genevra. - -Wilford’s leaving home so suddenly to join the army, could not fail, -even in New York, to cause some excitement, especially in his own -immediate circle of acquaintance, and for several days the matter was -discussed in all its phases, and every possible opinion and conjecture -offered, as to the cause of his strange freak. They could not believe in -domestic troubles when they saw how his family clung to and defended -Katy from the least approach of censure, Juno taking up her abode with -her “afflicted sister,” Mrs. Cameron driving round each day to see her; -Bell always speaking of her with genuine affection, while the father -clung to her like a hero, the quartette forming a barrier across which -the shafts of scandal could not reach. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIX. - WHAT FOLLOWED. - - -When Wilford left Katy so abruptly he had no definite purpose in his -mind. He was very sore with the remembrance of all that had passed since -baby’s death, and very angry at his wife, who he believed preferred -another to himself, or who would have done so had she known in time what -she did now. Like most angry people, he forgot wherein he had been in -fault, but charged it all to Katy as he went down Broadway that spring -morning, finding on his table a letter from an old classmate, who was -then in Washington getting up a company, and who wrote urging his friend -to join him at once, and offering him the rank of First Lieutenant. Here -was a temptation,—here an opportunity to revenge himself on Katy, -against whom he wrote a sad list of errors, making it sadder by brooding -over and magnifying it until he reached a point from which he would not -swerve. - -“I shall do it,” he said, and his lips were pressed firmly together, as -in his private office he sat revolving the past, and then turning to the -future, opening so darkly before him, and making him shudder as he -thought of what it might bring. “I will spare Katy as much as possible,” -he said, “for hers is a different nature from Genevra’s. She cannot bear -as well,” and a bitter groan broke the silence of the room as Katy came -up before him just as she had looked that very morning standing by the -window, with tears in her eyes, and a wistful, sorry look on her white -face. - -But Wilford was not one to retract when a decision was reached, and so -he arranged his business matters as well as his limited time would -allow; then, after the brief note to his father, wrote the letter to -Katy, and then followed to the Jersey ferry a regiment of soldiers who -were going on to Washington that night. Four days more and Lieutenant -Wilford Cameron, with no regret as yet for the past, marched away to -swell the ranks of men who, led by General McClellan, were pressing on, -as they believed, to Richmond and victory. A week of terrible suspense -went by, and then there came a letter to Mr. Cameron from his son, -requesting him to care for Katy, but asking no forgiveness for himself. -There were no apologies, no explanations, no kind words for Katy, whose -eyes moved slowly over the short letter, and then were lifted sadly to -her father’s face as she said, - -“I will write to him myself, and on his answer will depend my future -course.” - -This she said referring to the question she had raised as to whether she -should remain in New York or go to Silverton, where the family as yet -knew nothing except that Wilford had joined the army. And so the days -went by, while Katy’s letter was sent to Wilford, together with another -from his father, who called his son a “confounded fool,” telling him to -throw up his shoulder straps, which only honest men had a right to wear, -and come home where he belonged. - -To this there came an indignant answer, bidding the father attend to his -own business, and allow the son to attend to his. To Katy, however, -Wilford wrote in a different strain, showing here and there marks of -tenderness and relenting, but saying what he had done could not now be -helped,—he was in for a soldier’s life for two years, and should abide -his choice. - -This was the purport of Wilford’s letter, and Katy, when she finished -reading it, said sorrowfully, - -“Wilford never loved me, and I cannot stay in _his_ home, knowing that I -am not trusted and respected as a wife should be. I will go to -Silverton. There is room for me there.” - -Meanwhile at Silverton there was much anxiety for Katy, and many doubts -expressed lest something was wrong. That Wilford should go away so -suddenly, when he had never been noted for any very great amount of -patriotism, seemed strange, and Uncle Ephraim at last made up his mind -to the herculean task of going to New York to see what was the matter. - -Presuming upon her experience as a traveler, Aunt Betsy had proffered -sundry pieces of advice with reference to what it was best for him to do -on the road, telling him which side of the car to sit, where to get out, -and above all things not to shake hands with the conductor when asked -for his ticket. - -Uncle Ephraim heard her good-humoredly, and stuffing into his pocket the -paper of ginger-snaps, fried cakes and cheese, which Aunt Hannah had -prepared for his lunch, he started for the cars, and was soon on his way -to New York. - -In his case there was no Bob Reynolds to offer aid and comfort, and the -old man was nearly torn in pieces by the hackmen, who, the moment he -appeared to view, pounced upon him as lawful prey, each claiming the -honor of taking him wherever he wished to go, and raising such a din -about his ears that he turned away thoroughly disgusted, telling them— - -“He had feet and legs, and common sense, and he guessed he could find -his way without ’em. ’Bleeged to you, gentlemen, but I don’t need you,” -and with a profound bow the honest looking old deacon walked away, -asking the first man he met the way to Madison Square, and succeeding in -finding the number without difficulty. - -With a scream of joy Katy threw herself into Uncle Ephraim’s arms, and -then led him to her own room, while the first tears she had shed since -she knew she was deserted rained in torrents over her face. - -“What is it, Katy-did? I mistrusted something was wrong. What has -happened?” Uncle Ephraim asked; and with his arm around her, Katy told -him what had happened, and asked what she should do. - -“Do?” the old man repeated. “Go home with me to your own folks until he -comes from the wars. He is your husband, and I shall say nothing agin -him; but if it was to go over I would forbid the banns. That chap has -misused you the wust way. You need not deny it, for it’s writ all over -your face,” he continued, as Katy tried to stop him, for sore as was her -heart with the great injustice done her, she would not have Wilford -blamed, and she was glad when dinner was announced, as that would put an -end to the painful conversation. - -Leading Uncle Ephraim to the table, she presented him to Juno, whose -cold nod and haughty stare were lost on the old man, bowing his white -head so reverently as he asked the first blessing which had ever been -asked at that table. - -It had not been a house of prayer—no altar had been erected for the -morning and evening sacrifice. God had almost been forgotten, and now He -was pouring His wrath upon the handsome dwelling, making it so -distasteful that Katy was anxious to leave it, and expressed her desire -to accompany Uncle Ephraim to Silverton as soon as the necessary -arrangements could be made. - -“I don’t take it she comes for good,” Uncle Ephraim said that evening, -when Mr. Cameron opposed her going. “When the two years are gone, and -her man wants her back, she must come of course. But she grows poor here -in the city. It don’t agree with her like the scent of the clover and -the breeze from the hills. So, shet up the house for a spell, and let -the child come with me.” - -Mr. Cameron knew that Katy would be happier at Silverton, and he finally -consented to her going, and placed at her disposal a sum which seemed to -the deacon a little fortune in itself. - -To Mrs. Cameron and Juno it was a relief to have Katy taken from their -hands, and though they made a show of opposition, they were easily -quieted, and helped her off with alacrity, the mother promising to see -that the house was properly cared for, and Juno offering to send the -latest fashions which might be suitable, as soon as they appeared. Bell -was heartily sorry to part with the young sister, who seemed going from -her forever. - -“I know you will never come back. Something tells me so,” she said, as -she stood with her arms around Katy’s waist, and her lips occasionally -touching Katy’s forehead. “But I shall see you,” she continued; “I am -coming to the farm-house in the summer, and you may say to Aunt Betsy -that I like her ever so much, and”—Bell glanced behind her, to see that -no one was listening, and then continued—“tell her a certain officer was -sick a few days in a hospital last winter, and one of his men brought to -him a dish of the most delicious dried peaches he ever ate. That man was -from _Silverton_, and the fruit was sent to him, he said, in a salt bag, -by a nice old lady, for whose brother he used to work. Just to think -that the peaches I helped to pare, coloring my hands so that the stain -did not come off in a month, should have gone so straight to _Bob_!” and -Bell’s fine features shone with a light which would have told Bob -Reynolds he was beloved, if the lips did refuse to confess it. - -“I’ll tell her,” Katy said, and then bidding them all good-bye, and -putting her hand on Uncle Ephraim’s arm, she went with him from the home -where she had lived but two years, and those the saddest, most eventful -ones of her short life. - - - - - CHAPTER XL. - MARK AND HELEN. - - -There was much talk in Silverton when it was known that Katy had come to -stay until her husband returned from the war, and at first the people -watched her curiously as she came among them again, so quiet, so -subdued, so unlike the Katy of old that they would have hardly -recognized her but for the beauty of her face and the sunny smile she -gave to all, and which rested oftenest on the poor and suffering, who -blessed her as the angel of their humble homes, praying that God would -remember her for all she was to them. Wilford had censured her at first -for going to Silverton, when he preferred she should stay in New York, -hinting darkly at the reason of her choice, and saying to her once, when -she told him how the Sunday before her twenty-first birthday she had -knelt before the altar and taken upon herself the vows of confirmation, -“Your saintly cousin is, of course, delighted, and that I suppose is -sufficient, without my congratulations.” - -Perhaps he did not mean it, but he seemed to take delight in teasing -her, and Katy sometimes felt she should be happier without his letters -than with them. He never said he was sorry he had left her so -suddenly—indeed he seldom referred to the past in any way; or if he did, -it was in a manner which showed that he thought himself the injured -party, if either. - -Katy did not often go to Linwood, and seldom saw Morris alone. After -what had passed she thought it better to avoid him as much as possible, -and was glad when early in June he accepted a situation offered him as -surgeon in a Georgetown hospital, and left Silverton for his new field -of labor. - -True to her promise, Bell came the last of July to Silverton, proving -herself a dreadful romp, as she climbed over the rocks in Aunt Betsy’s -famous sheep-pasture, or raked the hay in the meadow, and proving -herself, too, a genuine woman, as with blanched cheek and anxious heart -she waited for tidings from the battles before Richmond, where the tide -of success seemed to turn, and the North, hitherto so jubilant and -hopeful, wore weeds of mourning from Maine to Oregon. Lieut. Bob was -there, and Wilford, too; and so was Captain Ray, digging in the marshy -swamps, where death floated up in poisonous exhalations—plodding on the -weary march, and fighting all through the seven days, where the sun -poured down its burning heat and the night brought little rest. No -wonder, then, that three faces at the farm-house grew white with -anxiety, or that three pairs of eyes grew dim with watching the daily -papers. But the names of neither Wilford, Mark, nor Bob were ever found -among the wounded, dead, or missing, and with the fall of the first -autumn leaf Bell returned to the city more puzzled, more perplexed than -ever with regard to Helen Lennox’s real feelings toward Captain Ray. - -The week before Christmas, Mark came home for a few days, looking ruddy -and bronzed from exposure and hardship, but wearing a disappointed, -listless look which Bell was quick to detect, connecting it in some way -with Helen Lennox. Only once did he call at Mr. Cameron’s and then as -Juno was out Bell had him to herself, talking of Silverton, of Helen and -Katy, in the latter of whom he seemed far more interested than her -sister. Many questions he asked concerning Katy, expressing his regret -that Wilford had left her, and saying he believed Wilford was sorry, -too. He was in the hospital now, with a severe cold and a touch of the -rheumatism, he said; but as Bell knew this already she did not dwell -long upon that subject, choosing rather to talk of Helen, who, she said, -was “as much interested in the soldiers, as if she had a brother or a -lover in the army,” and her bright eyes glanced meaningly at Mark, who -answered carelessly, - -“_Dr. Grant_ is there, and that may account for her interest.” - -Mark knew he must say something to ward off Bell’s attacks, and he -continued talking of Dr. Grant and how much he was liked by the poor -wretches who needed some one like him to keep them from dying of -homesickness if nothing else; then, after a few bantering words -concerning Lieutenant Bob and the _picture_ he carried into every -battle, buttoned closely over his heart, Mark Ray took his leave, while -Bell ran up to her mother’s room as a seamstress was occupying her own. -Mrs. Cameron was out that afternoon, and that she had dressed in a hurry -was indicated by the unusual confusion of her room. Drawers were left -open and various articles scattered about, while on the floor, just as -it had fallen from a glove-box, lay a _letter_ which Bell picked up, -intending to replace it. - -“_Miss Helen Lennox_,” she read in astonishment. “How came Helen -Lennox’s letter _here_, and from _Mark Ray_ too,” she continued, still -more amazed as she took the neatly folded note from the envelope and -glanced at the name. “Foul play somewhere. Can it be mother?” she asked, -as she read enough to know that she held in her hand Mark’s offer of -marriage, which had in some mysterious manner found its way to her -mother’s room. “I don’t understand it,” she said, racking her brain for -a solution of the mystery. “But I’ll send it to Helen this very day, and -to-morrow I’ll tell Mark Ray.” - -Procrastination was not one of Bell Cameron’s faults, and for full half -an hour before her mother and Juno came home, the stolen letter had been -lying in the mail box where Bell herself deposited it, together with a -few hurriedly-written lines, telling how it came into her hands, but -offering no explanation of any kind. - -“Mark is home now on a leave of absence which expires day after -to-morrow,” she wrote, “I am going round to see him, and if you do not -hear from him in person I am greatly mistaken.” - -The next day a series of hindrances kept Bell from making her call as -early as she had intended, so that Mrs. Banker and Mark were just rising -from dinner when told she was in the parlor. - -“I meant to have come before,” she said, seating herself by Mark, “but I -could not get away. I have brought you some good news. I think,—that -is,—yes, I know there has been some mistake, some wrong somewhere. Mark -Ray, yesterday afternoon I found,—no matter where or how—a letter -intended for Helen Lennox, which I am positive she never saw or heard -of; at least her denial to me that a certain Mark Ray had ever offered -himself is a proof that she never saw what _was_ an offer made just -before you went away. I read enough to know that, and then I took the -letter and——” - -She hesitated, while Mark’s eyes turned dark with excitement, and even -Mrs. Banker, scarcely less interested, leaned eagerly forward, saying, - -“And what? Go on, Miss Cameron. What did you do with that letter?” - -“I sent it to its rightful owner, Helen Lennox. I posted it myself. But -why don’t you thank me, Captain Ray?” she asked, as Mark’s face was -overshadowed with anxiety. - -“I was wondering whether it were well to send it—wondering how it might -be received,” he said, and Bell replied. - -“She will not answer no. As one woman knows another, I know Helen -Lennox. I have sounded her on that point. I told her of the rumor there -was afloat, and she denied it, seeming greatly distressed, but showing -plainly that had such offer been received she would not have refused it. -You should have seen her last summer, Captain Ray, when we waited so -anxiously for news from the Potomac. Her face was a study as her eyes -ran over the list of casualties, searching _not_ for her amiable -_brother-in-law_, nor yet for _Willard Braxton_, their hired man. It was -plain to me as daylight, and all you have to do is to follow up that -letter with another, or go yourself, if you have time,” Bell said, as -she rose to go, leaving Mark in a state of bewilderment as to what he -had heard. - -Who withheld that letter? and why? were questions which troubled him -greatly, nor did his mother’s assurance that it did not matter so long -as it all came right at last, tend wholly to reassure him. One thing, -however, was certain. He would see Helen before he returned to his -regiment. He would telegraph in the morning to Washington, and then run -the risk of being a day behind the time appointed for his return to -duty. - -“Suppose you have three children when I return, instead of two, is there -room in your heart for the third?” he asked his mother when next morning -he was about starting for Silverton. - -“Yes, always room for Helen,” was the reply, as with a kiss of -benediction Mrs. Banker sent her boy away. - - - - - CHAPTER XLI. - CHRISTMAS EVE AT SILVERTON. - - -There was to be a Christmas tree at St. John’s, and all the week the -church had been the scene of much confusion. But the work was over now; -the church was swept and dusted, the tree with its gay adornings was in -its place, the little ones, who had hindered so much, were gone, as were -their mothers, and Helen only tarried with the organ boy to play the -Christmas Carol, which Katy was to sing alone, the children joining in -the chorus as they had been trained to do. It was very quiet there, and -pleasant, with the fading sunlight streaming through the chancel window, -lighting up the cross above it, and falling softly on the wall where the -evergreens were hung with the sacred words, “Peace on earth and good -will towards men.” And Helen felt the peace stealing over her as she sat -down by the register for a moment ere going to the organ loft where the -boy was waiting for her. Not even the remembrance of the dark war-cloud -hanging over the land disturbed her then, as her thoughts went backward -eighteen hundred years to Bethlehem’s manger and the little Child whose -birth the angels sang. And as she thought, that Child seemed to be with -her, a living presence to which she prayed, leaning her head upon the -railing of the pew in front, and asking Him to keep her in the perfect -peace she felt around her now. For Mark Ray, too, she prayed, asking God -to keep him in safety wherever he might be, whether in the lonely watch, -or in some house of God, where the Christmas carols would be sung and -the Christmas story told. - -As she lifted up her head her hand struck against the pocket of her -dress, where lay the letter brought to her an hour or so ago—Bell’s -letter—which she had put aside to read at a more convenient season. - -Taking it out, she tore open the envelope, starting suddenly as another -letter, soiled and unsealed, met her eye. She read Bell’s first, and -then, with a throbbing heart, which as yet would not believe, she took -up Mark’s, understanding now much that was before mysterious to her. -Juno’s call came to her mind, and though she was unwilling to charge so -foul a wrong upon that young lady, she could find no other solution to -the mystery. There was a glow of indignation—Helen had scarcely been -mortal without it;—but that passed away in pity for the misguided girl -and in joy at the happiness opening so broadly before her. That Mark -would _come_ to Silverton she had no hope, but he would write—his -letter, perhaps, was even then on the way; and kissing the one she held, -she hid it in her bosom and went up to where the organ boy had for -several minutes been kicking at stools and books, and whistling _Old -John Brown_ by way of attracting attention. The boy was in a hurry, and -asked in so forlorn a tone, “_Is_ we going to play?” that Helen answered -good-humoredly, “Just a few minutes, Billy. I want to try the carol and -the opening, which I’ve hardly played at all.” - -With an air of submission Bill took his post and Helen began to play, -but she could only see before her, “I have loved you ever since that -morning when I put the lilies in your hair,” and played so out of time -and tune that Billy asked, “What makes ’em go so bad?” - -“I can’t play now; I’m not in the mood,” she said. “I shall feel better -by and by. You can go home if you like.” - -Bill needed no second bidding, but catching up his cap ran down the -stairs and out into the porch, just as up the steps a young man came -hurriedly. - -“Hallo, boy,” he cried, grasping the collar of Bill’s roundabout and -holding him fast, “who’s in the church?” - -“Darn yer, Jim Sykes, you let me be, or I’ll——” the boy began, but when -he saw his captor was not _Jim Sykes_, but a tall man, wearing a -soldier’s uniform, he changed his tone, and answered civilly, “I thought -you was Jim Sykes, the biggest bully in town, who is allus hectorin’ us -boys. Nobody is there but she——Miss Lennox—up where the organ is,” and -having given the desired information, Bill ran off, wondering first if -it wasn’t Miss Helen’s _beau_, and wondering next, in case she should -sometime get married in church, if he wouldn’t fee the _organ boy_ as -well as the sexton. “He orto,” Bill soliloquized, “for I’ve about blowed -my gizzard out sometimes, when she and Mrs. Cameron sings the Te Deum.” - -Meanwhile Mark Ray, who had driven first to the farm-house in quest of -Helen, entered the church, and stole noiselessly up the stairs to where -Helen sat in the dim light, reading again the precious letter withheld -from her so long. She had moved her stool nearer to the window, and her -back was towards the door, so that she neither saw, nor heard, nor -suspected anything, until Mark, bending over her so as to see what she -had in her hand, as well as the _tear_ she had dropped upon it, clasped -both his arms about her neck, and drawing her face over back, kissed her -fondly, calling her his darling, and saying to her, as she tried to -struggle from him, - -“I know I have a right to call you darling, by that tear on my letter, -and the look upon your face. Dear Helen, we have found each other at -last.” - -It was so unexpected that Helen could not speak, but she let her head -rest on his bosom, where he had laid it, and her hand crept into his, so -that he was answered, and for a moment he only kissed and caressed the -fair girl he knew now was his own. They could not talk together very -long, for Helen must go home; but he made good use of the time he had, -telling her many things, and then asking her a question which made her -start away from him as she replied. “No, no, oh! no, not to-night—not so -soon as that!” - -“And why not, Helen?” he asked, with the manner of one who was not to be -denied. “Why not to-night, so there need be no more misunderstanding? -I’d rather leave you as my wife than my betrothed. Mother will like it -better. I hinted it to her and she said there was room for you in her -love. It will make me a better man, and a better soldier, if I can say -‘my wife,’ as other soldiers do. You don’t know what a charm there is in -that word, Helen. It keeps a man from sin, and if I should die I would -rather you should bear my name, and share in my fortune. Will you, -Helen, when the ceremonies are closed, will you go up to that altar and -pledge your vows to me. I cannot wait till to-morrow; my leave of -absence expires to-day. I must go back to-night, but you must first be -mine.” - -Helen was shaking as with a chill, but she made him no reply, and -wrapping her cloak and furs about her, Mark led her down to the sleigh, -and taking his seat beside her, drove back to the farm-house where the -family were waiting for her. Katy, to whom Mark first communicated his -desire, warmly espoused his cause, and that went far towards reassuring -Helen, who for some time past had been learning to look up to Katy as to -an older sister, so sober, so earnest, so womanly had Katy grown since -Wilford went away. - -“It is so sudden, and people will talk,” Helen said, knowing, while she -said it, how little she cared for people, and smiling at Katy’s reply. - -“They may as well talk about you awhile as me. It is not so bad when -once you are used to it.” - -After Katy, Aunt Betsy was Mark’s best advocate. It is true this was not -just what she had expected when Helen was married. The _infair_ which -Wilford had declined was still in Aunt Betsy’s mind; but that, she -reflected, might be yet. If Mark went back on the next train there could -be no proper wedding party until his return, when the loaves of frosted -cake, and the baked fowls she had seen in imagination should be there in -real, tangible form, and as she expressed it they would have a “high.” -Accordingly she threw herself into the scale beginning to balance in -favor of Mark, and when at last old Whitey stood at the door, ready to -take the family to the church, Helen sat upon the lounge listening half -bewildered while Katy assured her that _she_ could play the voluntary, -even if she had not looked at it, that she could lead the children -without the organ, and in short do everything Helen was expected to do -except go to the altar _with Mark_. - -“That I leave for you,” and she playfully kissed Helen’s forehead, as -she tripped from the room, looking back when she reached the door, and -charging the lovers not to forget to come, in their absorption of each -other. - -St. John’s was crowded that night, the children occupying the front -seat, with looks of expectancy upon their faces, as they studied the -heavily laden tree, the boys wondering if that ball, or whistle, or -wheelbarrow was for them, and the girls appropriating the -tastefully-dressed dolls showing so conspicuously among the dark green -foliage. The Barlows were rather late, for upon Uncle Ephraim devolved -the duty of seeing to the license, and as he had no seat in that house, -his arrival was only known by Aunt Betsy’s elbowing her way to the -front, and near to the Christmas tree which she had helped to dress, -just as she had helped to trim the church. She did not believe in such -“flummeries” it is true and she classed them with the “quirks,” but -rather than “see the gals slave themselves to death,” she had this year -lent a helping hand. Donning two shawls, a camlet cloak, a knit scarf -for her head, and a hood to keep from catching cold, she had worked -early and late, fashioning the most wonderfully shaped wreaths, tying up -festoons, and even trying her hand at a triangle; she turned her back -resolutely upon _crosses_, which were more than her Puritanism could -endure. The cross was a “quirk,” with which she’d have nothing to do, -though once, when Katy seemed more than usually bothered and wished -somebody would hand her _tacks_, Aunt Betsy relented so far as to bring -the hoop she was winding close to Katy, holding the little nails in her -mouth, and giving them out as they were wanted; but with each one given -out, conscientiously turning her head away, lest her eyes should fall -upon what she conceived the symbol of the Romish Church. But when the -whole was done, none were louder in their praises than Aunt Betsy, who -was guilty of asking Mrs. Deacon Bannister, when she came in to inspect, -“why the Orthodox couldn’t get up some such doin’s for their -Sunday-school. It pleased the children mightily.” - -But Mrs. Deacon Bannister answered with some severity, - -“We don’t believe in shows and _plays_, you know,” thus giving a double -thrust, and showing that the opera had never been quite forgotten. -“Here’s a pair of skates, though, and a smellin’ bottle I’d like to have -put on for John and Sylvia,” she added, handing her package to Aunt -Betsy, who, while seeing the skates and smelling bottle suspended from a -bough, was guilty of wondering if “the partaker wasn’t most as bad as -the thief.” - -This was in the afternoon, and was all forgotten now, when with her -Sunday clothes she never would have worn in that jam but for the great -occasion, Aunt Betsy elbowed her way up the middle aisle, her face -wearing a very important and knowing look, especially when Uncle -Ephraim’s tall figure bent for a moment under the hemlock boughs, and -then disappeared in the little vestry room where he held a private -consultation with the rector. That she knew something her neighbors -didn’t was evident, but she kept it to herself, turning her head -occasionally to look up at the organ where Katy was presiding. Others -too, there were, who turned their heads as the soft music began to fill -the church, and the heavy bass rolled up the aisles, making the floor -tremble beneath their feet and sending a thrill through every vein. It -was a skillful hand which swept the keys that night, for Katy played -with her whole soul—not the voluntary there before her in printed form, -nor any one thing she had ever heard, but taking parts of many things, -and mingling them with strains of her own improvising she filled the -house as it had never been filled before, playing a soft, sweet refrain -when she thought of Helen, then bursting into louder, fuller tones, when -she remembered Bethlehem’s Child and the song the angels sang, and then -as she recalled her own sad life since she knelt at the altar a happy -bride, the organ notes seemed much like human sobs, now rising to a -stormy pitch of passion, wild and uncontrolled, and then dying out as -dies the summer wind after a fearful storm. Awed and wonderstruck the -organ boy looked at Katy as she played, almost forgetting his part of -the performance in his amazement, and saying to himself when she had -finished, - -“Guy, ain’t she a brick?” and whispering to her, “Didn’t we go that -strong?” - -The people had wondered where Helen was, as, without the aid of music, -Katy led the children in their carols, and this wonder increased when it -was whispered round that “Miss Lennox had come, and was standing with a -_man_ back by the register.” - -After this Aunt Betsy grew very calm, and could enjoy the distributing -of the gifts, going up herself two or three times, and wondering why -anybody should think of _her_, a good-for-nothing old woman. The skates -and the smelling bottle both went safely to Sylvia and John, while Mrs. -Deacon Bannister looked radiant when her name was called and she was -made the recipient of a jar of butternut pickles, such as only Aunt -Betsy Barlow could make. - -“_Miss Helen Lennox._ A soldier in uniform, from one of her -Sunday-school scholars,” - -The words rang out loud and clear, as the Rector held up the sugar toy -before the amused audience, who turned to look at Helen, blushing so -painfully, and trying to hold back the man in a soldier’s dress who went -quietly up the aisle, receiving the gift with a bow and smile which -turned the heads of half the ladies near him, and then went back to -Helen, to whom he whispered something which made her cheeks grow -brighter than they were before, while she dropped her eyes modestly. - -“Who is he?” a woman asked, touching Aunt Betsy’s shoulder. - -“Captain Ray, from New York,” was the answer, as Aunt Betsy gave to her -dress a little broader sweep, and smoothed the bow she had tried to tie -beneath her chin, just as Mattie Tubbs had tied it on the memorable -opera night. - -The tree, by this time, was nearly empty. Every child had been -remembered, save one, and that the organ boy, who, separated from his -companions, stood near Helen, watching the tree wistfully, while shadows -of hope and disappointment passed alternately over his face, as one -after another the presents were distributed and nothing came to him. - -“There ain’t a darned thing on it for me,” he exclaimed at last, when -boy nature could endure no longer; and Mark turned towards him just in -time to see the gathering mist, which but for the most heroic efforts -would have merged into tears. - -“Poor Billy!” Helen said, as she too heard his comment, “I fear he _has_ -been forgotten. His teacher is absent, and he so faithful at the organ -too.” - -Mark knew now who the boy was, and after a hurried consultation with -Helen, who suggested that _money_ would probably be more acceptable than -even skates or jack-knives, neither of which were possible now, folded -something in a bit of paper, on which he wrote a name, and then sent it -to the Rector. - -“Billy Brown, our faithful organ boy,” sounded through the church; and -with a brightened face Billy went up the aisle and received the little -package, ascertaining before he reached his standpoint near the door, -that he was the owner of a five dollar bill, and mentally deciding to -add both peanuts and molasses candy to the stock of apples he daily -carried into the cars. - -“_You_ gin me this,” he said, nodding to Mark, “and you,” turning to -Helen, “poked him up to it.” - -“Well then, if I did,” Mark replied, laying his hand on the boy’s coarse -hair, “you must take good care of Miss Lennox when I am gone. I leave -her in your charge. She is to be my wife.” - -“Gorry, I thought so;” and Bill’s cap went towards the plastering, just -as the last string of pop-corn was given from the tree, and the -exercises were about to close. - -It was not in Aunt Betsy’s nature to keep her secret till this time; and -simultaneously with Billy’s going up for his gift, she whispered it to -her neighbor, who whispered it to hers, who whispered it to hers, until -nearly all the audience knew of it, and kept their seats after the -benediction was pronounced. - -At a sign from the rector, Katy went with her mother to the altar, -followed by Uncle Ephraim, his wife, and Aunt Betsy, while Helen, -throwing off the cloud she had worn upon her head, and giving it, with -her cloak and fur, into Billy’s charge, took Mark’s arm, and with -beating heart and burning cheeks passed between the sea of eyes fixed so -curiously upon her, up to where Katy once stood on the June morning, -when she had been the bride. Not now, as then, were aching hearts -present at the bridal. No Marian Hazelton fainted by the door; no Morris -felt the world grow dark and desolate as the marriage vows were spoken; -and no sister doubted if it were all right and would end in happiness. - -The ceremony lasted but a few moments, and then the astonished audience -pressed around the bride, offering their kindly congratulations, and -proving to Mark Ray that the bride he had won was dear to others as well -as to himself. Lovingly he drew her hand beneath his arm, fondly he -looked down upon her as he led her back to her chair by the register, -making her sit down while he tied on her cloak, and adjusted the fur -about her neck. - -“Handy and gentle as a woman,” was the verdict pronounced upon him by -the female portion of the congregation, as they passed out into the -street, talking of the ceremony, and contrasting Helen’s husband with -the haughty Wilford, who was not a favorite with them. - -It was Billy Brown who brought Mark’s cutter round, and held the reins, -while Mark helped Helen in, and then he tucked the buffalo robes about -her with the remark, “It’s all-fired cold, Miss Ray. Shall you play in -church to-morrow?” - -Assured that she would, Billy walked away, and Mark was alone with his -bride, and slowly following the deacon’s sleigh, which reached the -farm-house a long time before the little cutter, so that a fire was -already kindled in the parlor when Helen arrived, and also in the -kitchen stove, where the tea-kettle was boiling; for Aunt Betsy said -“the chap should have some supper before he went back to York.” - -Four hours he had to stay, and they were spent in talking of himself, of -Wilford, and of Morris, and in planning Helen’s future. Of course she -would spend a portion of her time at the farm-house, he said; but his -mother had a claim upon her, and it was his wish that she should be in -New York as much as possible. - -Swiftly the last moments went by, and a “Merry Christmas” was said by -one and another as they took their seats at the plentiful repast Aunt -Betsy had provided, Mark feasting more on Helen’s face than on the -viands spread before him. It was hard for him to leave her, hard for her -to let him go; but the duty was imperative, and so when at last the -frosty air grew keener as the small hours of night crept on, he stood -with his arms about her, nor thought it unworthy of a soldier that his -own tears mingled with hers, as he bade her good-bye, kissing her again -and again, and calling her his precious wife, whose memory would make -his camp life brighter, and shorten the days of absence. There was no -one with them, when at last Mark’s horse dashed from the yard over the -creaking snow, leaving Helen alone upon the doorstep, with the -glittering stars shining above her head, and her husband’s farewell kiss -wet upon her lips. - -“When shall we meet again?” she sobbed, gazing up at the clear blue sky, -as if to find the answer there. - -But only the December wind sweeping down from the steep hillside, and -blowing across her forehead, made reply to that questioning, as she -waited till the last faint sound of Mark Ray’s bells died away in the -distance, and then, shivering with cold, re-entered the farm-house. - - - - - CHAPTER XLII. - AFTER CHRISTMAS EVE. - - -Merrily rang the bells next day, but Helen’s heart was very sad as she -met the smiling faces of her friends, and Mark had never been prayed for -more earnestly than on that Christmas morning, when Helen knelt at the -altar rail, and received the sacred symbols of a Saviour’s dying love, -asking that God would keep the soldier husband, hastening on to New -York, and from thence to Washington. Much the Silvertonians discussed -the wedding, and had Helen been the queen, she could hardly have been -stared at more curiously than she was that Christmas day, when late in -the afternoon she drove through the town with Katy, the villagers -looking admiringly after her, noting the tie of her bonnet, the -arrangement of her face trimmings, and discovering in both style and -fitness they had never discovered before. As the wife of Mark Ray, Helen -became suddenly a heroine, in whose presence poor Katy subsided -completely; nor was the interest at all diminished when, two days later, -Mrs. Banker came to Silverton and was met at the depot by Helen, whom -she hugged affectionately, calling her “my dear daughter,” and holding -her hand all the way to the covered sleigh waiting there for her. - -Mrs. Banker was very fond of Helen; and not even the sight of the -farm-house, with its unpolished inmates, awakened a feeling of regret -that her only son had not looked higher for a wife. She was satisfied -with her new daughter, and insisted upon taking her back to New York. - -“I am very lonely now, lonelier than you can possibly be,” she said to -Mrs. Lennox, “and you will not refuse her to me for a few weeks at -least. It will do us both good, and make the time of Mark’s absence so -much shorter.” - -“Yes, mother, let Helen go. I will try to fill her place,” Katy said, -though while she said it her heart throbbed with pain and dread as she -thought how desolate she should be without her sister. - -But it was right, and Katy urged Helen’s going, bearing up bravely so -long as Helen was in sight, but shedding bitter tears when at last she -was gone, tears which were only stayed when kind old Uncle Ephraim -offered to take her to the little grave, where, from experience, he knew -she always found rest and peace. The winter snows were on it now, but -Katy knew just where the daisies were, and the blue violets which with -the spring would bloom again, feeling comforted as she thought of that -eternal spring in the bright world above, where her child had gone. And -so that night, when they gathered again around the fire in the pleasant -little parlor, the mother and the old people did not miss Helen half so -much as they had feared they might, for Katy sang her sweetest songs and -wore her sunniest smile, while she told them of Helen’s new home, and -talked of whatever else she thought would interest and please them. - -“Little Sunbeam,” Uncle Ephraim called her now, instead of “Katy-did,” -and in his prayer that first night of Helen’s absence he asked, in his -touching way, “that God would bless his little Sunbeam, and not let her -grow tired of living there alone with folks so odd and old.” - - * * * * * - -“MARRIED—On Christmas Eve, at St. John’s Church, Silverton, Mass., by -the Rev. Mr. Kelly, Capt. MARK RAY, of the —th Regiment, N. Y. S. Vols., -to MISS HELEN LENNOX, of Silverton.” - -Such was the announcement which appeared in several of the New York -papers two days after Christmas, and such the announcement which Bell -Cameron read at the breakfast table on the morning of the day when Mrs. -Banker started for Silverton. - -“Here is something which will perhaps interest _you_,” she said, passing -the paper to Juno, who had come down late, and was looking cross and -jaded from the effects of last night’s dissipation. - -Taking the paper from her sister’s hand, Juno glanced at the paragraph -indicated by Bell; then, as she caught Mark’s name, she glanced again -with a startled, incredulous look, her cheeks and lips turning white as -she read that Mark Ray was lost to her forever, and that in spite of the -stolen letter Helen Lennox was his wife. - -“What is it, Juno?” Mrs. Cameron asked, noticing her daughter’s -agitation. - -Juno told her what it was, and then handing her the paper let her read -it for herself. - -“Impossible! there is some mistake! How was it brought about?” Mrs. -Cameron said, darting a curious glance at Bell, whose face betrayed -nothing as she leisurely sipped her coffee and remarked, “I always -thought it would come to this, for I knew he liked her. It is a splendid -match.” - -Whatever Juno thought she kept it to herself, just as she kept her room -the entire day, complaining of a racking headache, and ordering the -curtains to be dropped, as the light hurt her eyes, she said to Bell, -who, really pitying her now, never suggested that the darkened room was -more to hide her tears than to save her eyes, and who sent away all -callers with the message that Juno was sick—all but Sybil Grandon, who -insisted so hard upon seeing her _dear friend_ that she was admitted to -Juno’s room, talking at once of the wedding, and making every one of -Juno’s nerves quiver with pain as she descanted upon the splendid match -it was for Helen, or indeed for any girl. - -“I had given you to him,” she said, “but I see I was mistaken. It was -Helen he preferred, unless you jilted him, as perhaps you did.” - -Here was a temptation Juno could not resist, and she replied, haughtily, - -“I am not one to boast of conquests, but ask Captain Ray himself if you -wish to know why I did not marry him.” - -Sybil Grandon was not deceived, but she good-naturedly suffered that -young lady to hope she was, and answered, laughingly, “I can’t say I -honor your judgment in refusing him, but you know best. However, I trust -that will not prevent your friendly advances towards his bride. Mrs. -Banker has gone after her, I understand, and I want you to call with me -as soon as convenient. _Mrs. Mark Ray_ will be the belle of the season, -depend upon it,” and gathering up her furs Mrs. Grandon kissed Juno -affectionately and then swept from the room. - -That Mrs. Cameron had hunted for and failed to find the stolen letter, -and that she associated its disappearance with Mark Ray’s sudden -marriage, Bell was very sure, from the dark, anxious look upon her face -when she came from her room, whither she had repaired immediately after -breakfast; but whatever her suspicions were, they did not find form in -words. Mark was lost. It was too late to help that now, and as a politic -woman of the world, Mrs. Cameron decided to let the matter rest, and by -_patronizing_ the young bride prove that she had never thought of Mark -Ray for her son-in-law. Hence it was that the Cameron carriage and the -Grandon carriage stood together before Mrs. Banker’s door, while the -ladies who had come in the carriages paid their respects to Mrs. Ray, -rallying her upon the march she had stolen upon them, telling her how -delighted they were to have her back again, and hoping they should see -each other a great deal during the coming winter. - -The Camerons and Sybil Grandon were not alone in calling upon the bride. -Those who had liked Helen Lennox did not find her less desirable now -that she was Helen Ray, and numberless were the attentions bestowed upon -her and the invitations she received. - -But with few exceptions Helen declined the latter, feeling that with her -husband in so much danger, it was better not to mingle in gay society. -She was very happy with Mrs. Banker, who petted and caressed and loved -her almost as much as if she had been her own daughter. Mark’s letters, -too, which came nearly every day, were bright sun-spots in her -existence, so full were they of tender love and kind thoughtfulness for -her. He was very happy, he wrote, in knowing that at home there was a -dear little brown-haired wife, waiting and praying for him, and but for -the separation from her he was well content with a soldier’s life. Once -Helen thought seriously of going to him for a week or more, but, the -project was prevented by the sudden arrival in New York of Katy, who -came one night to Mrs. Banker’s, with her face as white as ashes, and a -wild expression in her eyes as she said to Helen, - -“I am going to Wilford. He is dying. He has sent for me. I ought to go -on to-night, but cannot, my head aches so,” and pressing both her hands -upon her head Katy sank fainting into Helen’s arms. - - - - - CHAPTER XLIII. - GEORGETOWN HOSPITAL. - - - GEORGETOWN, February—, 1862. - - MRS. WILFORD CAMERON: - - “Your husband cannot live long. Come immediately. - - M. HAZELTON.” - -So read the telegram received by Katy one winter morning, and which -stunned her for a few minutes so that she could neither feel nor think. -But the reaction came soon enough, bringing with it only the remembrance -of Wilford’s love. All the wrong, the harshness, was forgotten, and only -the desire remained to fly at once to Wilford. Bravely she kept up until -New York was reached, when the tension of her nerves gave way, and she -fainted, as we have seen. - -At Father Cameron’s a telegram had been received, telling of Wilford’s -danger. But the mother could not go to him. A lung difficulty, to which -she was subject, had confined her to the house for many days, and so it -was the father and Bell who made their hasty preparations for the -hurried journey to Georgetown. They heard of Katy’s arrival, and Bell -came at once to see her. - -“She will not be able to join us to-morrow,” was the report Bell carried -home, for she saw more than mere exhaustion in the white face lying so -motionless on Helen’s pillow, with the dark rings about the eyes, and -the quiver of the muscles about the mouth. - -“It is very hard, but God knows best,” poor Katy moaned, when the next -day her father and Bell went without her. - -“Yes, darling, God knows best,” Helen answered, smoothing the bright -hair, and thinking sadly of the young officer sitting by his camp-fire, -and waiting so eagerly for the bride who could not go to him now. “God -knows what is best, and does all for the best.” - -Katy said it many times that long, long week, during which she stayed -with Helen, living from day to day upon the letters sent by Bell, who -gave but little hope that Wilford would recover. Not a word did she say -of Marian, and only twice did she mention Morris, who was one of the -physicians in that hospital, so that when at last Katy was strong enough -to venture on the journey, she had but little idea of what had -transpired in Wilford’s sick room. - - * * * * * - -Those were sad, weary days which Wilford first passed upon his hospital -cot, and as he was not sick but crippled, he had ample time for -reviewing the past, which came up before his mind as vividly as if he -had been living again the scenes of bygone days. Of Katy he thought -continually, repenting of his rashness, and wishing so much that the -past could be undone. Disgusted with soldier life, he had wished himself -at home a thousand times, but never by a word had he admitted such a -wish to any living being, and when, on the dark, rainy afternoon which -first saw him in the hospital, he turned his face to the wall and wept, -he replied to one who said to him soothingly, - -“Don’t feel badly, my young friend. We will take as good care of you -here as if you were at home.” - -“It’s the pain which brings the tears. I’d as soon be here as at home.” - -Gradually, however, there came a change, and Wilford grew softer in his -feelings, half resolving to send for Katy, who had offered to come, and -to whom he had replied, “It is not necessary.” But as often as he -resolved, his evil genius whispered, “She does not care to come,” and so -the message was never sent, while the longing for home faces brought on -a nervous fever, which made him so irritable that his attendants turned -from him in disgust, thinking him the most unreasonable man they ever -met with. Once he dreamed Genevra was there—that her fingers threaded -his hair as they used to do in the 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 nurse in the second ward has been in here,” a comrade said. “She -seemed specially interested in you, and if she had not been a stranger, -I should have said she was crying over you.” - -With a quick, sudden movement, Wilford put his hand to his cheek, where -there was a tear, either his own or that of the “nurse,” who had -recently bent over him. Retaining the same proud reserve which had -characterized his whole life, he asked no questions, but listened to -what his companions were saying of the beauty and tenderness of the -“young girl,” as they called her, who had glided for a few moments into -their presence, winning their hearts in that short space of time, and -making them wish she would come back again. Wilford wished so too, -conjuring up all sorts of conjectures about the unknown nurse, and once -going so far as to fancy it was Katy herself. But Katy would hardly -venture there as nurse, and if she did she would not keep aloof from -him. It was not Katy, and if not, who was it that twice when he was -sleeping came and looked at him, his comrades said, rallying him upon -the conquest he had made, and so exciting his imagination that the fever -began to increase, and the blood throbbed hotly through his veins, while -his brows were knit together with thoughts of the mysterious stranger. -Then, with a great shock it occurred to him that Katy had affirmed, -“_Genevra_ is alive.” - -What if it were so, and this nurse were Genevra? The very idea fired -Wilford’s brain, and when next his physician came he looked with alarm -upon the great change for the worse exhibited by his patient. - -“Shall I send for your friends?” he asked, and Wilford answered, -savagely, - -“I have no friends—none at least, but what will be glad to know I’m -dead.” - -And that was the last, except the wild words of a maniac, which came -from Wilford’s lips for many a day and night. When they said he was -unconscious, Marian Hazelton obtained permission to attend him, and -again the eyes of the other occupants of the room were turned -wonderingly towards her as she bent over the sick man, parting his -matted hair, smoothing his pillow, and holding the cooling draught to -the parched lips which muttered strange things of Brighton, of Alnwick -and Rome—of the heather on the Scottish moors, and the daisies on -Genevra’s grave, where Katy once sat down. - -“She did not know Genevra was there,” he said; “but I knew, and I felt -as if the dead were wronged by that act of Katy’s. Do _you_ know Katy?” -and his black eyes fastened upon Marian, who soothed him into quiet, -while she talked to him of Katy, telling of her graceful beauty, her -loving heart, and the sorrow she would feel when she heard how sick he -was. - -“Shall I send for her?” she asked, but Wilford answered, - -“No, I am satisfied with you.” - -This was her first day with him, but there were other days when all her -strength, and that of Morris, who, at her earnest solicitation, came to -her aid, was required to keep him on his bed. He was going home, he -said, going to Katy; and like a giant he writhed under a force superior -to his own, and which held him down and controlled him, while his loud -outcries filled the building, and sent a shudder to the hearts of those -who heard them. As the two men, who at first had occupied the room with -him, were well enough to leave for home, Marian and Morris both begged -that, unless absolutely necessary, no other one should be sent to that -small apartment, where all the air was needed for the patient in their -charge. And thus the room was left alone for Wilford, who grew worse so -fast that Marian telegraphed to Katy, bidding her come at once. - - * * * * * - -Slowly the wintry night was passing, the fifth since Marian’s message -was sent to Katy, and Morris sat by Wilford’s cot, when suddenly he met -Wilford’s eyes fixed upon him with a look of recognition he could not -mistake. - -“Do you know me?” he asked so kindly, and with so much of genuine -sympathy in his voice, that the heavy eyelids quivered for an instant, -as Wilford nodded his head, and whispered, - -“Dr. Grant.” - -There had been a momentary flash of resentment when he saw the watcher -beside him, but Wilford was too weak, too helpless to cherish that -feeling long, and besides there were floating through his still -bewildered mind visions of some friendly hand, which had ministered to -him daily—of a voice and form, distinct from the one he thought an -angel’s, and which was not there now with him. That voice, that form, he -felt sure belonged to Morris Grant, and remembering his past harshness -toward him, a chord of gratitude was touched, and when Morris took his -hand he did not at once withdraw it, but let his long, white fingers -cling around the warm, vigorous ones, which seemed to impart new life -and strength. - -“You have been very sick,” Morris said, anticipating the question -Wilford would ask. “You are very sick still, and at the request of your -nurse I came to attend you.” - -A pressure of the hand was Wilford’s reply, and then there was silence -between them, while Wilford mastered all his pride, and with quivering -lips whispered, - -“_Katy!_” - -“We have sent for her. We expect her every train,” Morris replied, and -Wilford asked, - -“Who has been with me—the nurse, I mean? Who is she?” - -Morris hesitated a moment, and then said, - -“Marian Hazelton.” - -“I know—yes,” Wilford replied, having no suspicion as to _who_ was -standing outside his door, and listening, with a throbbing heart, to his -rational questions. - -In all their vigils held together no sign had ever passed from Dr. Grant -to Marian that he knew her, but he had waited anxiously for this moment, -knowing that Wilford must not be shocked, as a sight of Marian would -shock him. He knew she was outside the door, and as Wilford turned his -head upon the pillow, he went to her, and leading her to a safe -distance, said softly, - -“His reason has returned.” - -“And my services are ended,” Marian rejoined, looking him steadily in -the face, but not in the least prepared for his affirmative question. - -“You are _Genevra Lambert_?” - -There was a low, gasping sound of surprise, and Marian staggered forward -a step or two, then steadying herself, she said, - -“And if I am, it surely is not best for him to see me. You would not -advise it?” - -She looked wistfully at Morris, the great desire to be recognized, to be -spoken to kindly by the man who once had been her husband overmastering -for a moment all her prudence. - -“It would not be best, both for his sake and _Katy’s_,” Morris said, and -with a moan like the dying out of her last hope, Marian turned away, her -eyes dim with tears and her heart heavy with a sense of something lost, -as in the gray dawn of the morning she went back to her former patients, -who hailed her coming with childish joy, one fair young boy from the -Granite hills kissing the hand which bandaged his poor crushed arm so -tenderly, and thanking her that she had returned to him again. - - * * * * * - -“Mr. J. Cameron, Miss Bell Cameron,” were the names on the cards sent to -Dr. Grant late that afternoon, and in a few moments he was with the -father and sister who asked so anxiously for Wilford and explained why -Katy was not with them. - -Wilford was sleeping when they entered his room, his face looking so -worn and thin, and his hands folded so helplessly upon his breast, that -with a gush of tears Bell knelt beside him, and laying her warm cheek -against his bony one, woke him with her sobs. For a moment he seemed -bewildered, then recognizing her, he raised his feeble arm and winding -it about her neck, kissed her more tenderly than he had ever done -before. He had not been demonstrative of his affection for his sisters. -But Bell was his favorite, and he held her close to him while his eyes -moved past his father, whom he did not see, on to the door as if in -quest of someone. It was Katy, and guessing his thoughts, Bell said, - -“She is not here. She could not come now. She is sick in New York, but -will join us in a few days.” - -There was a look of intense disappointment in Wilford’s face, which even -his father’s warm greeting could not dissipate, and Morris saw the great -tears as they dropped upon the pillow, the proud man trying hard to -repress them, and asking no questions concerning any one at home. He was -too weak to talk, but he held Bell’s hand in his as if afraid that she -would leave him, while his eyes rested alternately upon her face and -that of his father, who, wholly unmanned at the fearful change in his -son, laid his head upon the bed and cried aloud. - -Next morning Bell was very white and her voice trembled as she came from -a conference with Dr. Morris, who had told her that her brother would -die. - -“He may live a week, and he may not,” he said, adding solemnly, “As his -sister you will tell him of his danger, while there is time to seek the -refuge without which death is terrible.” - -“Oh, if I could only pray with and for him!” Bell thought, as she went -to her brother, mourning her misspent days, and feeling her courage -giving way when at last she stood in his presence and met his kindly -smile. - -“I dreamed that you were not here after all,” he said, “I am so glad to -find it real. How long before I can go home, do you suppose?” - -He had stumbled upon the very thing Bell was there to talk about, his -question indicating that he had no suspicion of the truth. Nor had he; -and it came like a thunderbolt when Bell, forgetting all her prudence, -said impetuously, - -“Oh, Wilford, maybe you’ll never go home. Maybe you’ll——” - -“_Not die_,” Wilford exclaimed, clasping his hands with sudden emotion. -“Not die—you don’t mean that? Who told you so?” - -“Dr. Grant,” was Bell’s reply, which brought a fierce frown to Wilford’s -face, and awoke all the angry passions of his heart. - -“Dr. Grant,” he repeated. “He would like me removed from his path; but -it shall not be. I will not die. Tell him that. I will not die,” and -Wilford’s voice was hoarse with passion as he raised his clenched fists -in the air. - -He was terribly excited, and in her fright Bell ran for Dr. Grant. But -Wilford motioned him back, hurling after him words which kept him from -the room the entire day, while the sick man rolled, and tossed, and -raved in the delirium, which had returned, and which wore him out so -fast. No one had the least influence over him, except Marian Hazelton, -who, without a glance at Mr. Cameron or Bell, glided to his side, and -with her presence and gentle words soothed him into comparative quiet, -so that the bitter denunciations against the _saint_, who wanted him to -die, ceased, and he fell into a troubled sleep. - -With a strange feeling of interest Mr. Cameron and Bell watched her, -wondering if she were indeed Genevra, as Katy had affirmed. They would -not ask her; and both breathed more freely when, with a bow in -acknowledgment of Mr. Cameron’s compliment to her skill in quieting his -son, she left the room. - -That night they watched with Wilford, who slept off his delirium, and -lay with his face turned from them, so that they could not guess by its -expression what was passing in his mind. - -All the next day he maintained the most frigid silence, answering only -in monosyllables, while Bell kept wiping away the great drops of sweat -constantly oozing out upon his forehead and about the pallid lips. - -Just at nightfall he startled Bell by asking that Dr. Grant be sent for. - -“Please leave me alone with him,” he said, when Dr. Morris came; then -turning to Morris, as the door closed upon his father and his sister, he -said abruptly, - -“Pray for me, if you can pray for one who yesterday hated you so for -saying he must die.” - -Earnestly, fervently, Morris prayed, as for a dear brother; and when he -finished, Wilford’s faint “Amen” sounded through the room. - -“I am not right yet,” the pale lips whispered, as Morris sat down beside -him. “Not right with God, I mean. I’ve sometimes said there was no God; -but I did not believe it; and now I know there is. He has been moving -upon me all the day, driving out my bitterness toward you, and causing -me to send for you at last. Do you think there is hope for me? I have -much to be forgiven.” - -“Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow,” Morris -replied; and then he tried to point that erring man to the Lamb of God, -who taketh away the sins of the world, convincing him that there _was_ -hope even for him, and leaving him with the conviction that God would -surely finish the good work begun, nor suffer this soul to be lost which -had turned to Him at the eleventh hour. - -Wilford knew his days were numbered, and he talked freely of it to his -father and sister the next morning when they came to him. He did not say -that he was ready or willing to die, only that he must, and he asked -them to forget, when he was gone, all that had ever been amiss in him as -a son and brother. - -“I was too proud, too selfish, to make others happy,” he said, “I -thought it all over yesterday, and the past came back again so vividly, -especially the part connected with Katy. Oh, Katy, I did abuse her!” and -a bitter sob attested the genuineness of Wilford’s grief for his -treatment of Katy. “I despised her family, I treated them with contempt. -I broke Katy’s heart, and now I must die without telling her I am sorry. -But you’ll tell her, Bell, how I tried to pray, but could not for -thoughts of my sin to her. She will not be glad that I am dead. I know -her better than to think that; and I believe she loves me. But, after I -am gone, and the duties of the world have closed up the gap I shall -leave, I see a brighter future for her than her past has been; and you -may tell her I am——” He could not say, “I am willing.” Few husbands -could have done so then, and he was not an exception. - -Wholly exhausted, he lay quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, it -was of _Genevra_. Even here he did not try to screen himself. He was the -one to blame, he said, Genevra was true, was innocent, as he ascertained -too late. - -“Would you like to see her, if she was living?” came to Bell’s lips; but -the fear that it would be too great a shock, prevented their utterance. - -He had no suspicion of her presence; and it was best he should not. Katy -was the one uppermost in his mind; and in the letter Bell sent to her -next day, he tried to write, “Good-bye, my darling;” but the words were -scarcely legible, and his nerveless hand fell helpless at his side as he -said, - -“She will never know the effort it cost me, nor hear me say that I hope -I am forgiven. It came to me last night; and now the way is not so dark, -but Katy will not know.” - - - - - CHAPTER XLIV. - LAST HOURS. - - -Katy _would know_; for she was coming at last. A telegram had announced -that she was on the road; and with nervous restlessness Wilford asked -repeatedly what time it was, reducing the hours to minutes, and counting -his own pulses to see if he could last so long. - -“Save me, Doctor,” he whispered to Morris, “keep me alive till Katy -comes. I must see Katy again.” - -And Morris, tenderer than a brother, did all he could to keep the feeble -breath from going out ere Katy came. - -The train was due at five; but it was dark in the hospital, and from -every window a light was shining, when Morris carried, rather than led, -a quivering figure up the stairs and through the hall to the room where -the Camerons were, the father standing at the foot of Wilford’s bed, and -Bell bending over his pillow, administering the stimulants which kept -her brother alive. When Katy came in, she moved away, as did her father, -while Morris too stepped back into the hall; and thus the husband and -wife were left alone. - -“Katy, precious Katy, you have forgiven me?” Wilford whispered, and the -rain of tears and kisses on his face was Katy’s answer as she hung over -him. - -She had forgiven him, and she told him so when she found voice to talk, -wondering to find him so changed from the proud, exacting, -self-worshiping man to the humble, repentant and self-accusing person, -who took all blame of the past to himself, and exonerated her from every -fault. But when he drew her close to him, and whispered something in her -ear, she knew whence came the change, and a reverent “Thank the good -Father,” dropped from her lips. - -“The way was dark and thorny,” Wilford said, making her sit down where -he could see her as he talked, “and only for God’s goodness I should -have lost the path. But he sent Morris Grant to point the road, and I -trust I am in it now. I wanted to tell you with my own lips how sorry I -am for what I have made you suffer; but sorriest of all for sending Baby -away. Oh, Katy, you do not know how that rested upon my conscience. -Forgive me, Katy, that I robbed you of your child.” - -He was growing very weak, and he looked so white and ghastly that Katy -called for Bell, who came with her father, and the three stood together -around the bedside of the dying. - -“You will remember me, Katy,” he said, “but you cannot mourn for me -always, and sometime in the future you will cease to be my _widow_, and, -Katy, I am willing. I wanted to tell you this, so that no thought of me -should keep you from a life where you will be happier than I have made -you.” - -Wholly bewildered, Katy made no reply, and Wilford was silent a few -moments, in which he seemed partially asleep. Then rousing up, he said, - -“You said once that Genevra was not dead. Did you mean it, Katy?” - -Frightened and bewildered, Katy turned appealingly to her father-in-law, -who answered for her, “She meant it—Genevra is not dead,” while a -blood-red flush stained Wilford’s face, and his fingers beat the -bedspread thoughtfully. - -“I fancied once that she was here—that she was the nurse the boys praise -so much. But that was a delusion,” he said, and without a thought of the -result, Katy asked impetuously, “if she were here would you care to see -her?” - -There was a startled look on Wilford’s face, and he grasped Katy’s hand -nervously, his frame trembling with a dread of the great shock which he -felt impending over him. - -“Is she here? Was the nurse Genevra?” he asked. Then, as his mind went -back to the past, he answered his own question by asserting “Marian -Hazelton is Genevra.” - -They did not contradict him, nor did he ask to see her. With Katy there -he felt he had better not; but after a moment he continued, “It is all -so strange. I thought her dead. I do not comprehend how it can be. She -has been kind to me. Tell her I thank her for it. I was unjust to her. I -have much to answer for.” - -Between each word he uttered there was a gasp for breath, and Father -Cameron opened the window to admit the cool night air. But nothing had -power to revive him. He was going very fast, Morris said, as he took his -stand by the bedside and watched the approach of death. There were no -convulsive struggles, only heavy breathings, which grew farther and -farther apart, until at last Wilford drew Katy close to him, and winding -his arm around her neck, whispered, - -“I am almost home, my darling, and all is well. Be kind to Genevra for -my sake. I loved her once, but not as I love you.” - -He never spoke again, and a few minutes later Morris led Katy from the -room, and then went out to give orders for the embalming. - - * * * * * - -In the little room she called her own, Marian Hazelton sat, her -beautiful hair disordered, and her eyes dim with the tears she had shed. -She knew that Wilford was dead, and as if his dying had brought back all -her olden love she wept bitterly for the man who had so darkened her -life. She had not expected to see him with Katy present; but now that it -was over she might go to him. There could be no harm in that. No one but -Morris would know who she was, she thought, when there came a timid -knock upon her door, and Katy entered, her face very pale, and her -manner very calm, as she came to Marian, and kneeling down beside her, -laid her head in her lap with the air of a weary child who has sought -its mother for rest. - -“Poor little Katy!” Marian said; “your husband, they tell me, is dead.” - -“Yes;” and Katy lifted up her head, and fixing her eyes earnestly upon -Marian, continued, “Wilford is dead. but before he died he left a -message for _Genevra Lambert_. Will she hear it now?” - -With a sudden start Marian sprang to her feet, and demanded, “Who told -_you_ of Genevra Lambert?” - -“Wilford told me months ago, showing me her picture, which I readily -recognized, and I have pitied you so much, knowing you were innocent. -Wilford thought you were dead,” Katy said, flinching a little before -Marian’s burning gaze, which fascinated even while it startled her. - -It is not often that two women meet bearing to each other the relations -these two bore, and it is not strange that both felt constrained and -embarrassed as they stood looking at each other. As Marian’s was the -stronger nature, so she was the first to rally, and with the tears -swimming in her eyes she drew Katy closely to her, and said, - -“Now that he is gone I am glad you know it. Mine has been a sad life, -but God has helped me to bear it. You say he believed me dead. Sometime -I will tell you how that came about; but now, his message,—he left one, -you say?” - -Carefully Katy repeated every word Wilford had said, and with a gasping -cry Marian wound her arms around her neck, exclaiming, - -“And you _will_ love me, because I have suffered so much. You will let -me call you Katy when we are alone. It brings you nearer to me.” - -Marian was now the weaker of the two, and it was Katy’s task to comfort -her, as sinking back in her chair she sobbed, - -“He did love me once. He acknowledged it at the last, before them all, -his wife, his father and his sister. Do they know?” she suddenly asked, -and when assured that they did, she relapsed into a silent mood, while -Katy stole quietly out and left her there alone. - -Half an hour later and a female form passed hurriedly through the hall -and across the threshold into the chamber where the dead man lay. There -was no one with him now, and Marian was free to weep out the pent-up -sorrow of her life, which she did with choking sobs and passionate words -poured into the ear, deaf to every human sound. A step upon the floor -startled her, and turning round she stood face to face with Wilford’s -father, who was regarding her with a look which she mistook for one of -reproof and displeasure that she should be there. - -“Forgive me,” she said; “he was my husband once, and surely now that he -is dead you will not begrudge me a few last moments with him for the -sake of the days when he loved me.” - -There were many tender chords in the heart of Father Cameron, and -offering Marian his hand, he said, - -“Far be it from me to refuse you this privilege. I pity you, Genevra; I -believe he dealt unjustly by you,—but I will not censure him now that he -is gone. He was my only boy. Oh, Wilford, Wilford! you have left me very -lonely.” - -He released her hand, and Marian fled away, meeting next with Bell, who -felt that she must speak to her, but was puzzled what to say. Bell could -not define her feelings towards Marian, or why she shrunk from -approaching her. It was not pride, but rather a feeling of prejudice, as -if Marian were in some way to blame for all the trouble which had come -to them, while her peculiar position as the divorced wife of her brother -made it the more embarrassing. But she could not resist the mute -pleading of the eyes lifted so tearfully to her, as if asking for a nod -of recognition, and stopping before her she said, softly, - -“_Genevra._” - -That was all, but it made Genevra’s tears flow in torrents, and she -involuntarily held her hand out to Bell, who took it, and holding it -between her own, said, - -“You were very kind to my brother. I thank you for it, and will tell my -mother, who will feel so grateful to you.” - -This was a good deal for Bell to say, and after it was said, she -hastened away while Marian went on her daily round of duties, speaking -softer if possible to her patients that day, and causing them to wonder -what had come over that sweet face to make it so white and tear-stained. -That night in Marian’s room Katy sat and listened to what she did not -before know of the strange story kept from her so long. Marian confirmed -all Wilford had told, breathing no word of blame against him now that he -was dead, only stating facts, and leaving Katy to draw her own -conclusions. - -“I knew that I was handsome,” she said, “and I liked to test my power; -but for that weakness I have been sorely punished. I had not at first -any intention of making him believe that I was dead, and when I sent the -paper containing the announcement of father’s death, I was not aware -that it also contained the death of my cousin, a beautiful girl just my -age, who bore our grand-mother’s name of Genevra, and about whom and a -young English lord, who had hunted one season in her father’s -neighborhood, there were some scandalous reports. Afterwards it occurred -to me that Wilford would see that notice, and naturally think it -referred to me, inasmuch as he knew nothing of my cousin Genevra. - -“It was just as well, I said—I _was_ dead to him, and I took a strange -satisfaction in wondering if he would care. Incidentally I heard that -the postmaster at Alnwick had been written to by an American gentleman, -who asked if such a person as _Genevra Lambert_ was buried at St. -Mary’s; and then I knew he believed me dead, even though the name -appended to the letter was not Wilford Cameron, nor was the writing his; -for, as the cousin of the dead Genevra, I asked to see the letter, and -my request was granted. It was Mrs. Cameron who wrote it, I am sure, -signing a feigned name and bidding the postmaster answer to that -address. He did so, assuring the inquirer that Genevra Lambert was -buried there, and wondering to me if the young American who seemed -interested in her could have been a lover of the unfortunate girl. - -“I was now alone in the world, for the aunt with whom my childhood was -passed died soon after my father, and so I went at last to learn a trade -on the Isle of Wight, emigrating from thence to New York, with the -determination in my rebellious heart that sometime, when it would cut -the deepest, I would show myself to the proud Camerons, whom I so -cordially hated. This was before God had found me, or rather before I -had listened to the still, small voice which took the hard, vindictive -feelings away, and made me feel kindly towards the mother and sisters -when I saw them, as I often used to do, driving gayly by. Wilford was -sometimes with them, and the sight of him always sent the hot blood -surging through my heart. But the greatest shock I ever had came to me -when I heard from your sister of his approaching marriage with you. -Those were terrible days that I passed at the farm-house, working on -your bridal trousseau; and sometimes I thought it more than I could -bear. Had you been other than the little, loving, confiding, trustful -girl you were, I must have disclosed the whole, and told that you would -not be the first who had stood at the altar with Wilford. But pity for -you kept me silent, and you became his wife. - -“I loved your baby almost as much as if it had been my own, and when it -died there was nothing to bind me to the North, and so I came here, -where I hope I have done some good; at least I was here to care for -Wilford, and that is a sufficient reward for all the toil which falls to -the lot of a hospital nurse. I shall stay until the war is ended, and -then go I know not where. It will not be best for us to meet very often, -for though we respect each other, neither can forget the past, nor that -one was the lawful, the other the divorced wife of the same man. I have -loved you, Katy Cameron, for your uniform kindness shown to the poor -dressmaker. I shall always love you, but our paths lie widely apart. -Your future I can predict, but mine God only knows.” - -Marian had said all she meant to say, and all Katy came to hear. The -latter was to leave in the morning, and when they would meet again -neither could tell. Few were the parting words they spoke, for the great -common sorrow welling up from their hearts; but when at last they said -good-bye, the bond of friendship between them was more strongly cemented -than ever, and Katy long remembered Marian’s parting words, - -“God bless you, Katy Cameron! You have been a bright, sun spot in my -existence since I first knew you, even though you have stirred some of -the worst impulses of my nature. I am a better woman for having known -you. God bless you, Katy Cameron!” - - - - - CHAPTER XLV. - MOURNING. - - -The grand funeral which Mrs. Cameron once had planned for Katy was a -reality at last, but the breathless form lying so cold and still in the -darkened room at No. — Fifth Avenue, was that of a soldier embalmed—an -only son brought back to his father’s house amid sadness and tears. They -had taken him there rather than to his own house, because it was the -wish of his mother, who, however hard and selfish she might be to -others, had idolized her son, and mourned for him truly, forgetting in -her grief to care how grand the funeral was, and feeling only a passing -twinge when told that _Mrs. Lennox_ had come from Silverton to pay the -last tribute of respect to her late son-in-law. Some little comfort it -was to have her boy lauded as a faithful soldier, and to hear the -commendations lavished upon him during the time he lay in state, with -his uniform around him; but when the whole was over, and in the gray of -the wintry afternoon her husband returned from Greenwood, there came -over her a feeling of such desolation as she had never known—a feeling -which drove her at last to the little room upstairs, where sat a lonely -man, his head bowed upon his hands, and his tears dropping silently upon -the hearth-stone as he, too, thought of the vacant parlor below and the -new grave at Greenwood. - -“Oh, husband, comfort me!” fell from her lips as she tottered to her -husband, who opened his arms to receive her, forgetting all the years -which had made her the cold, proud woman, who needed no sympathy, and -remembering only that bright green summer when she was first his bride, -and came to him for comfort in every little grievance, just as now she -came in this great, crushing sorrow. - -He did not tell her she was reaping what she had sown, that but for her -pride and deception concerning Genevra, Wilford might never have gone to -the war, or they been without a son. He did not reproach her at all, but -soothed her tenderly, calling her by her maiden name, and awkwardly -smoothing her hair, silvered now with gray, and feeling for a moment -that Wilford had not died in vain, if by his dying he gave back to his -father the wife so lost during the many years since fashion and folly -had been the idols she worshiped. But the habits of years could not be -lightly broken, and Mrs. Cameron’s mind soon became absorbed in the -richness of her mourning, and the strict etiquette of her mourning days. -To Katy she was very kind, caressing her with unwonted affection, and -scarcely suffering her to leave her sight, much less to stay for a day -at Mrs. Banker’s, where Katy secretly preferred to be. Of Genevra, too, -she talked with Katy, and at her instigation wrote a friendly letter, -thanking _Mrs. Lambert_ for all her kindness to her son, expressing her -sorrow that she had ever been so unjust to her, and sending her a -handsome locket, containing on one side a lock of Wilford’s hair, and on -the other his picture, taken from a large sized photograph. Mrs. Cameron -felt herself a very good woman after she had done all this, together -with receiving Mrs. Lennox at her own house, and entertaining her for -one whole day; but at heart there was no real change, and as time passed -on she gradually fell back into her old ways of thinking, and went no -more for comfort to her husband as she had on that first night after the -burial. - -With Mr. Cameron the blow struck deeper, and his Wall Street friends -talked together of the old man he had grown since Wilford died, while -Katy often found him bending over his long-neglected Bible, as he sat -alone in his room at night. And when at last she ventured to speak to -him upon the all-important subject, he put his hand in hers, and bade -her teach him the narrow way which she had found, and wherein Wilford -too had walked at the very last, they hoped. - -For many weeks Katy lingered in New York, and the June roses were -blooming when she went back to Silverton, a widow and the rightful owner -of all Wilford’s ample fortune. They had found among his papers a will, -drawn up and executed not long before his illness, and in which Katy was -made his heir, without condition or stipulation. All was hers to do with -as she pleased, and Katy wept passionately when she heard how generous -Wilford had been. Then, as she thought of Marian and the life of poverty -before her, she crept to Father Cameron’s side, and said to him, -pleadingly, - -“Let _Genevra_ share it with me. She needs it quite as much.” - -Father Cameron would not permit Katy to divide equally with Marian. It -was not just, he said; but he did not object to a few thousands going to -her, and before Katy left New York for Silverton, she wrote a long, kind -letter to Marian, presenting her with ten thousand dollars, which she -begged her to accept, not so much as a gift, but as her rightful due. -There was a moment’s hesitancy on the part of Marian when she read the -letter, a feeling that she could not take so much from Katy; but when -she looked at the pale sufferers around her, and remembered how many -wretched hearts that money would help to cheer, she said, - -“I will keep it.” - - - - - CHAPTER XLVI. - PRISONERS OF WAR. - - -The heat, the smoke, the thunder of the battle were over, and the fields -of Gettysburg were drenched with human blood and covered with the dead -and dying. The contest had been fearful, and its results carried sorrow -and anguish to many a heart waiting for tidings from the war, and -looking so anxiously for the names of the loved ones who, on the -anniversary of the day which saw our nation’s Independence, lay upon the -hills and plains of Gettysburg, their white faces upturned to the summer -sky, and wet with the rain=drops, which, like tears for the noble dead, -the pitying clouds had shed upon them. And nowhere, perhaps, was there a -whiter face or a more anxious heart than at the farm-house, where both -Helen and her mother-in-law were spending the hot July days. Since the -Christmas eve when Helen had watched her husband going from her across -the wintry snow, he had not been back, though several times he had made -arrangements to do so. Something, however, had always happened to -prevent. Once it was sickness which kept him in bed for a week or more; -again his regiment was ordered to advance, and the third time it was -sent on with others to repel the invaders from Pennsylvanian soil. -Bravely through each disappointment Helen bore herself, but her cheek -always grew paler and her eye darker in its hue when the evening papers -came, and she read what progress our soldiery had made, feeling that a -battle was inevitable, and praying so earnestly that Mark Ray might be -spared. Then, when the battle was over and up the northern hills came -the dreadful story of thousands and thousands slain, there was a fearful -look in her eye, and her features were rigid as marble, while the -quivering lips could scarcely pray for the great fear tugging at her -heart. Mark Ray was not with his men when they came from that terrific -onslaught. A dozen had seen him fall, struck down by a rebel ball, and -that was all she heard for more than a week, when there came another -relay of news. - -Captain Mark Ray was a prisoner of war, with several of his own company. -An inmate of Libby Prison and a sharer from choice of the apartment -where his men were confined. As an officer he was entitled to better -quarters; but Mark Ray had a large, warm heart, and he would not desert -those who had been so faithful to him, and so he took their fare, and by -his genial humor and unwavering cheerfulness kept many a heart from -fainting, and made the prison life more bearable than it could have been -without him. To young Tom Tubbs, who had enlisted six months before, he -was a ministering angel, and many times the poor homesick boy crept to -the side of his captain, and laying his burning head in his lap, wept -himself to sleep and dreamed he was at home again. The horrors of that -prison life have never been told, but Mark bore up manfully, suffering -less in mind, perhaps, than did the friends at home, who lived, as it -were, a thousand years in that one brief summer while he remained in -Richmond. - -At last, as the frosty days of October came on, they began to hope he -might be exchanged, and Helen’s face grew bright again, until one day -there came a soiled, half-worn letter, in Mark’s own handwriting. It was -the first word received from _him_ since his capture in July, and with a -cry of joy Helen snatched it from Uncle Ephraim, for she was still at -the farm-house, and sitting down upon the doorstep just where she had -been standing, read the words which Mark had sent to her. He was very -well, he said, and had been all the time, but he pined for home, longing -for the dear girl-wife never so dear as now, when separated by so many -miles, with prison walls on every side, and an enemy’s line between -them. - -“But be of good cheer, darling,” he wrote, “I shall come back to you -some time, and life will be all the brighter for what you suffer now. I -am so glad my darling consented to be my wife, even though I could stay -with her but a moment. The knowing you are really mine makes me happy -even here, for I think of you by day, and in my dreams I always hold you -in my arms and press you to my heart.” - -A hint he gave of being sent further south, and then hope died out of -Helen’s heart. - -“I shall never see him again,” she said despairingly; and when the -message came that Mark had been removed, and that too just at the time -when an exchange was constantly expected, she gave him up as lost, -feeling almost as much widowed as Katy in her weeds. - -Slowly the winter passed away, and the country was rife with stories of -our men, daily dying by hundreds, while those who survived were reduced -to maniacs or imbeciles. And Helen, as she listened, grew nearly frantic -with the sickening suspense. She did not know now where her husband was. -He had made several attempts to escape, and with each failure had been -removed to safer quarters, so that his chances for being exchanged -seemed very far away. Week after week, month after month passed on, -until came the memorable battle of the Wilderness, when Lieutenant Bob, -as yet unharmed, stood bravely in the thickest of the tight, his tall -figure towering above the rest, and his soldier’s uniform buttoned over -a dark tress of hair, and a face like Bell Cameron’s. Lieutenant Bob had -taken two or three furloughs; but the one which had left the sweetest, -pleasantest memory in his heart, was that of the autumn before, when the -crimson leaves of the maple, and the golden tints of the beech, were -burning themselves out on the hills of Silverton, where his furlough was -mostly passed, and where with Bell Cameron he scoured the length and -breadth of Uncle Ephraim’s farm, now stopping by the shore of Fairy -Point and again sitting for hours on a ledge of rocks, far up the hill, -where beneath the softly whispering pines, nodding above their heads, -Bell gathered the light-brown cones, and said to him the words he had so -thirsted to hear. - -Much of Bell’s time was passed with Katy, at the farm-house, and here -Lieutenant Reynolds found her, accepting readily of Uncle Ephraim’s -hearty invitation to remain, and spending his entire vacation there with -the exception of three days, given to his family. Perfectly charmed with -quaint Aunt Betsy, he flattered and courted her almost as much as he did -Bell, but did not take her with him in his long rambles over the hills, -or sit with her at night alone in the parlor until the clock struck -twelve—a habit which Aunt Betsy greatly disapproved, but overlooked for -this once, seeing, as she said, that - -“The young leftenant was none of her _kin_, and _Isabel_ only a little.” - -Those were halcyon days which Robert passed at Silverton but one stood -out prominently before him, whether sitting before his camp-fire or -plunging into the battle; and that the one when, casting aside all pride -and foolish theories, Bell Cameron freely acknowledged her love for the -man to whom she had been so long engaged, and paid him back the kisses -she had before refused to give. - -“I shall be a better soldier for this,” Robert had said, as he guided -her down the steep ledge of rocks, and with her hand in his, walked -slowly back to the farm-house, which, on the morrow, he left to take -again his place in the army. - -There were no more furloughs for him after that; and the winter passed -away, bringing the spring again, when came that battle in the -Wilderness, where, like a hero, he fought until, becoming separated from -his comrades, he fell into the enemy’s hands; and two days after, there -sped along the telegraphic wires to New York, - -“Lieutenant Robert Reynolds, captured the first day of the battle.” - -Afterwards came news that Andersonville was his destination, together -with many others made prisoners that day. - -“It is better than being shot, and a great deal better than being -burned, as some of the poor wretches were,” Juno said, trying to comfort -Bell, who doubted a little her sister’s word. - -True there was now the shadow of a hope that he might return; but the -probabilities were against it; and Bell’s face grew almost as white as -Helen’s, while her eyes acquired that restless, watchful, anxious look -which has crept into the eyes of so many sorrowing women, looking away -to the southward, where the dear ones were dying. - - - - - CHAPTER XLVII. - DOCTOR GRANT. - - -Morris had served out his time as surgeon in the army, had added to it -an extra six months; and by his humanity, his skill, and Christian -kindness, made for himself a name which would be long remembered by the -living to whom he had ministered so carefully; while many a dying -soldier had blessed him for pointing out the way which leadeth to the -life everlasting; and in many a mourning family his name was a household -word, for the good he had done to a dying son and brother. But Morris’s -hospital work was over. He had gone a little too far, and incurred too -much risk, until his own strength had failed; and now, in the month of -June, when Linwood was bright with the early summer blossoms, he was -coming back with health greatly impaired, and a dark cloud before his -vision, so that he could not see how beautiful his home was looking, or -gaze into the faces of those who waited so anxiously to welcome their -beloved physician. _Blind_ some said he was; but the few lines sent to -Helen, announcing the day of his arrival, contradicted that report. His -eyes were very much diseased, his amanuensis wrote; but he trusted that -the pure air of his native hills, and the influence of old scenes and -associations would soon effect a cure. “If not too much trouble,” he -added, “please see that the house is made comfortable, and have John -meet me on Friday at the station.” - -Helen was glad Morris was coming home, for he always did her good; he -could comfort her better than any one else, unless it were Katy, whose -loving, gentle words of hope were very soothing to her. - -“Poor Morris!” she sighed, as she finished his letter, and then took it -to the family, who were sitting upon the pleasant piazza, which, at -Katy’s expense and her own, had been added to the house, and overlooked -Fairy Pond and the pleasant hills beyond. - -“Morris is coming home,” she said. “He will be here on Friday, and he -wishes us to see that all things are in order at Linwood for his -reception. His eyes are badly diseased, but he hopes that coming back to -us will cure him,” she added, glancing at Katy, who sat upon a step of -the piazza, her hands folded together upon her lap, and her blue eyes -looking far off into the fading sunset. - -When she heard Morris’s name, she turned her head a little, so that the -ripple of her golden hair was more distinctly visible beneath the silken -net she wore; but she made no comment nor showed by any sign that she -heard what they were saying. Katy was very lovely and consistent in her -young widowhood, and not a whisper of gossip had the Silvertonians -coupled with her name since she came to them, leaving her husband in -Greenwood. There had been no parading of her grief before the public, or -assumption of greater sorrow than many others had known; but the -soberness of her demeanor, and the calm, subdued expression of her face, -attested to what she had suffered. Sixteen months had passed since -Wilford died, and she still wore her deep mourning weeds, except the -widow’s cap, which, at her mother’s and Aunt Betsy’s earnest -solicitations, she had laid aside, substituting in its place a simple -net, which confined her waving hair and kept it from breaking out in -flowing curls, as it was disposed to do. - -Katy had never been prettier than she was now, in her mature womanhood, -and to the poor and sorrowful whose homes she cheered so often she was -an angel of goodness. - -Truly she had been purified by suffering; the dross had been burned out, -and only the gold remained, shedding its brightness on all with which it -came in contact. - -They would miss her at the farm-house now more than they did when she -first went away, for she made the sunshine of their home, filling -Helen’s place when she was in New York, and when she came back proving -to her a stay and comforter. Indeed, but for Katy’s presence Helen often -felt that she could not endure the sickening suspense and doubt which -hung so darkly over her husband’s fate. - -“He is alive; he _will_ come back,” Katy always said, and from her -perfect faith Helen, too, caught a glimpse of hope. - -Could they have forgotten Mark they would have been very happy at the -farm-house now, for with the budding spring and blossoming summer Katy’s -spirits had returned, and her old musical laugh rang through the house -just as it used to do in the happy days of girlhood, while the same -silvery voice which led the choir in the brick church, and sang with the -little children their Sunday hymns, often broke forth into snatches of -songs, which made even the robins listen, as they built their nests in -the trees. - -If Katy thought of Morris, she never spoke of him when she could help -it. It was a morbid fancy to which she clung, that duty to Wilford’s -memory required her to avoid the man who had so innocently come between -them; and when she heard he was coming home she felt more pain than -pleasure, though for an instant the blood throbbed through her veins as -she thought of Morris at Linwood, just as he used to be. - -The day of his return was balmy and beautiful, and at an early hour -Helen went over to Linwood to see that everything was in order for his -arrival, while Katy followed at a later hour, wondering if Wilford would -object if he knew she was going to welcome Morris, who might misconstrue -her motives if she stayed away. - -There was very little for her to do, Helen and Mrs. Hull having done all -that was necessary, but she went from room to room, lingering longest in -Morris’s own apartment, where she made some alterations in the -arrangement of the furniture, putting one chair a little more to the -right, and pushing a stand or table to the left, just as her artistic -eye dictated. By some oversight no flowers had been put in there, but -Katy gathered a bouquet and left it on the mantel, just where she -remembered to have seen flowers when Morris was at home. - -“He will be tired,” she said. “He will lie down after dinner,” and she -laid a few sweet English violets upon his pillow, thinking their perfume -might be grateful to him after the pent-up air of the hospital and cars. -“He will think Helen put them there, or Mrs. Hull,” she thought, as she -stole softly out and shut the door behind her, glancing next at the -clock, and feeling a little impatient that a whole hour must elapse -before they could expect him. - -Poor Morris! he did not dream how anxiously he was waited for at home, -nor of the crowd assembled at the depot to welcome back the loved -physician, whose name they had so often heard coupled with praise as a -true hero, even though his post was not in the front of the battle. -Thousands had been cared for by him, their gaping wounds dressed -skillfully, their aching heads soothed tenderly, and their last moments -made happier by the words he spoke to them of the world to which they -were going, where there is no more war or shedding of man’s blood. In -the churchyard at Silverton there were three soldiers’ graves, whose -pale occupants had died with Dr. Grant’s hand held tightly in theirs, as -if afraid that he would leave them before the dark river was crossed, -while in more than one Silverton home there was a wasted soldier, who -never tired of telling Dr. Morris’s praise and dwelling on his goodness. -But Dr. Morris was not thinking of this as, faint and sick, with the -green shade before his eyes, he leaned against the pile of shawls his -companion had placed for his back, and wondered if they were almost -there. - -“I smell the pond lilies; we must be near Silverton,” he said, and a -sigh escaped him as he thought of coming home and not being able to -_see_ it or the woods and fields around it. “Thy will be done,” he had -said many times since the fear first crept into his heart that for him -the light had faded. - -But now, when home was almost reached, and he began to breathe the air -from the New England hills and the perfume of the New England lilies, -the flesh rebelled again, and he cried out within himself, “Oh, I cannot -be blind! God will not deal thus by me!” while keen as the cut of a -sharpened knife was the pang with which he thought of Katy, and wondered -would she care if he were blind. - -Just then the long train stopped at Silverton, and, led by his -attendant, he stepped feebly into the crowd, which sent up deafening -cheers for Dr. Grant come home again. At the sight of his helplessness, -however; a feeling of awe fell upon them, and whispering to each other, -“I did not suppose he was so bad,” they pressed around him, offering -their hands and inquiring anxiously how he was. - -“I have been sick, but I shall get better now. The very sound of your -friendly voices does me good,” he said, as he went slowly to his -carriage, led by Uncle Ephraim, who could not keep back his tears when -he saw how weak Morris was, and how he panted for breath as he leaned -back among the cushions. - -It was very pleasant that afternoon, and Morris enjoyed the drive so -much, assuring Uncle Ephraim, that he was growing better every moment. -He did seem stronger when the carriage stopped at Linwood, and he went -up the steps where Helen, Katy, and Mrs. Hull were waiting for him. He -could not by sight distinguish one from the other, but without the aid -of her voice he would have known when Katy’s hand was put in his, it was -so small, so soft, and trembled so as he held it. She forgot Wilford in -her excitement. Pity was the strongest feeling of which she was -conscious, and it manifested itself in various ways. - -“Let _me_ lead you, Cousin Morris,” she said, as she saw him groping his -way to his room, and without waiting for his reply, she held his hand -again in hers and led him to his room, where the English violets were. - -“I used to lead _you_,” Morris said, as he took his seat by the window, -“and I little thought then that you would one day return the compliment. -It is very hard to be blind.” - -The tone of his voice was inexpressibly sad, but his smile was as -cheerful as ever as his face turned towards Katy, who could not answer -for her tears. It seemed so terrible to see a strong man so stricken, -and that strong man Morris—terrible to watch him in his helplessness, -trying to appear as of old, so as to cast on others no part of the -shadow resting so darkly on himself. When dinner was over and the sun -began to decline, many of his former friends came in; but he looked so -pale and weary that they did not tarry long, and when the last one was -gone, Morris was led back to his room, which he did not leave again -until the summer was over, and the luscious fruits of September were -ripening upon the trees. - -Towards the middle of July, Helen, whose health was suffering from her -anxiety concerning Mark, was taken by Mrs. Banker to Nahant, where -Mark’s sister, Mrs. Ernst, was spending the summer, and thus on Katy -fell the duty of paying to Morris those acts of sisterly attention such -as no other member of the family knew how to pay. In the room where he -lay so helpless Katy was not afraid of him, nor did she deem herself -faithless to Wilford’s memory, because each day found her at Linwood, -sometimes bathing Morris’s inflamed eyes, sometimes bringing him the -cooling drink, and again reading to him by the hour, until, soothed by -the music of her voice, he would fall away to sleep and dream he heard -the angels sing. - -“My eyes are getting better,” he said to her one day toward the latter -part of August, when she came as usual to his room. “I knew last night -that Mrs. Hull’s dress was blue, and I saw the sun shine through the -shutters. Very soon, I hope to see you, Katy, and know if you have -changed.” - -She was standing close by him, and as he talked he raised his hand to -rest it on her head, but, with a sudden movement, Katy eluded the touch, -and stepped a little further from him. - -When next she went to Linwood there was in her manner a shade of -dignity, which both amused and interested Morris. He did not know for -certain that Wilford had told Katy of the confession made that memorable -night when her recovery seemed so doubtful, but he more than half -suspected it from the shyness of her manner, and from the various -excuses she began to make for not coming to Linwood as often as she had -heretofore done. - -In his great pity for Katy when she was first a widow, Morris had -scarcely remembered that she was free, or if it did flash upon his mind, -he thrust the thought aside as injustice to the dead; but as the months -and the year went by, and he heard constantly from Helen of Katy’s -increasing cheerfulness, it was not in his nature never to think of what -might be, and more than once he had prayed, that if consistent with his -Father’s will, the woman he had loved so well, should yet be his. If -not, he could go his way alone, just as he had always done, knowing that -it was right. - -Such was the state of Morris’s mind when he returned from Washington, -but now it was somewhat different. The weary weeks of sickness, during -which Katy had ministered to him so kindly, had not been without their -effect, and if Morris had loved the frolicsome, child-like Katy Lennox, -he loved far more the gentle, beautiful woman, whose character had been -so wonderfully developed by suffering, and who was more worthy of his -love than in her early girlhood. - -“I cannot lose her now,” was the thought constantly in Morris’s mind, as -he experienced more and more how desolate were the days which did not -bring her to him. “It is twenty months since Wilford died,” he said to -himself one wet October afternoon, when he sat listening dreamily to the -patter of the rain falling upon the windows, and looking occasionally -across the fields to the farm-house, in the hope of spying in the -distance the little airy form, which, in its water-proof and cloud, had -braved worse storms than this at the time he was so ill. - -But no such figure appeared. He hardly expected it would; but he watched -the pathway just the same, and the smoke-wreaths rising so high above -the farm-house. The deacon burned out his chimney that day, and Morris, -whose sight had greatly improved of late, knew it by the dense, black -volume of smoke, mingled with rings of fire, which rose above the roof, -remembering so well another rainy day, twenty years ago, when the -deacon’s chimney was cleaned, and a little toddling girl, in scarlet -gown and white pinafore, had amused herself with throwing into the -blazing fire upon the hearth a straw at a time, almost upsetting herself -with standing so far back, and making such efforts to reach the flames. -A great deal had passed since then. The little girl in the pinafore had -been both wife and mother. She was a widow now, and Morris glanced -across his hearth toward the empty chair he had never seen in -imagination filled by any but herself. - -“Surely, she would some day be his own,” and leaning his head upon the -cane he carried, he prayed earnestly for the good he coveted, keeping -his head down so long that, until it had left the strip of woods and -emerged into the open fields, he did not see the figure wrapped in -water-proof and hood, with a huge umbrella over its head and a basket -upon its arm, which came picking its way daintily toward the house, -stopping occasionally, and lifting up the little high-heeled Balmoral, -which the mud was ruining so completely. Katy was coming to Linwood. It -had been baking-day at the farm-house, and remembering how much Morris -used to love her custards, Aunt Betsy had prepared him some, and asked -Katy to take them over, so he could have them for tea. - -“The rain won’t hurt you an atom,” she said as Katy began to demur, and -glance at the lowering sky. “You can wear your water-proof boots and my -shaker, if you like, and I do so want Morris to have them to-night.” - -Thus importuned, Katy consented to go, but declined the loan of Aunt -Betsy’s shaker, which being large of the kind, and capeless, too, was -not the most becoming head-gear a woman could wear. With the basket of -custards, and cup of jelly, Katy finally started, Aunt Betsy saying to -her, as she stopped to take up her dress, “It must be dretful lonesome -for Morris to-day. S’posin’ you stay to supper with him, and when it’s -growin’ dark I’ll come over for you. You’ll find the custards fust -rate.” - -Katy made no reply, and walked away, while Aunt Betsy went back to the -coat she was patching for her brother, saying to herself, - -“I’m bound to fetch that round. It’s a shame for two young folks, just -fitted to each other, to live apart when they might be so happy, with -Hannah, and Lucy, and me, close by, to see to ’em, and allus make their -soap, and see to the butcherin’, besides savin’ peneryle and catnip for -the children, if there was any.” - -Aunt Betsy had turned match-maker in her old age, and day and night she -planned how to bring about the match between Morris and Katy. That they -were made for each other, she had no doubt. From something which Helen -inadvertently let fall, she had guessed that Morris loved Katy prior to -her marriage with Wilford. She had suspected as much before; she was -sure of it now, and straightway put her wits to work “to make it go,” as -she expressed it. But Katy was too shy to suit her, and since Morris’s -convalescence, had stayed too much from Linwood. To-day, however, Aunt -Betsy “felt it in her bones,” that if properly managed something would -happen, and the custards were but the means to the desired end. With no -suspicion whatever of the good dame’s intentions, Katy picked her way to -Linwood, and leaving her damp garments in the hall, went at once into -the library, where Morris was sitting near to a large chair kept sacred -for her, his face looking unusually cheerful, and the room unusually -pleasant, with the bright wood fire on the hearth. - -“I have been so lonely, with no company but the rain,” he said, pushing -the chair a little towards her, and bidding her sit near the fire, where -she could dry her feet. - -Katy obeyed, and sat down so near to him that had he chosen he might -have touched the golden hair, fastened in heavy coils low on her neck, -and giving to her a very girlish appearance, as Morris thought, for he -could see her now, and while she dried her feet he looked at her -eagerly, wondering that the fierce storm she had encountered had left so -few traces upon her face. Just about the mouth there was a deep cut -line, but this was all; the remainder of the face was fair and smooth as -in her early girlhood, and far more beautiful, just as her character was -lovelier, and more to be admired. - -Morris had done well to wait if he could win her now. Perhaps he thought -so, too, and this was why his spirits became so gay as he kept talking -to her, suggesting at last that she should stay to tea. The rain was -falling in torrents when he made the proposition. She could not go then, -even had she wished it, and though it was earlier than his usual time, -Morris at once rang for Mrs. Hull, and ordered that tea be served as -soon as possible. - -“I ought not to stay. It is not proper,” Katy kept thinking, as she -fidgeted in her chair, and watched the girl setting the table for two, -and occasionally deferring some debatable point to her as if she were -mistress there. - -“You can go now, Reekie,” Morris said, when the boiling water was poured -into the silver kettle, and tea was on the table. “If we need you we -will ring.” - -With a vague wonder as to who would toast the doctor’s bread, and butter -it, Reekie departed, and the two were left together. It was Katy who -toasted the bread, kneeling upon the hearth, burning her face and -scorching the bread in her nervousness at the novel position in which -she so unexpectedly found herself. It was Katy, too, who prepared -Morris’s tea, and tried to eat, but could not. She was not hungry, she -said, and the custard was the only thing she tasted, besides the tea, -which she sipped at frequent intervals so as to make Morris think she -was eating more than she was. But Morris was not deceived, nor -disheartened. Possibly she suspected his intention, and if so, the -sooner he reached the point the better. So when the tea equipage was put -away, and she began again to speak of going home, he said, - -“No, Katy, you can’t go yet, till I have said what’s in my mind to say,” -and laying his hand upon her shoulder he made her sit down beside him -and listen while he told her of the love he had borne for her long -before she knew the meaning of that word as she knew it now—of the -struggle to keep that love in bounds after its indulgence was a sin; of -his temptations and victories, of his sincere regret for Wilford, and of -his deep respect for her grief, which made her for a time as a sister to -him. But that time had passed. She was not his sister now, nor ever -could be again. She was Katy, dearer, more precious, more desired even -than before another called her wife, and he asked her to be his, to come -up there to Linwood and live with him, making the rainy days brighter, -balmier, than the sunniest had ever been, and helping him in his work of -caring for the poor and sick around them. - -“Will Katy come? Will she be the wife of Cousin Morris?” - -There was a world of pathos and pleading in the voice which asked this -question, just as there was a world of tenderness in the manner with -which Morris caressed and fondled the bowed head resting on the chair -arm. And Katy felt it all, understanding what it was to be offered such -a love as Morris offered, but only comprehending in part what it would -be to refuse that love. For her blinded judgment said she must refuse -it. Had there been no sad memories springing from that grave in -Greenwood, no bitter reminiscences connected with her married life—had -Wilford never heard of Morris’s love and taunted her with it, she might -perhaps consent, for she craved the rest there would be with Morris to -lean upon. But the happiness was too great for her to accept. It would -seem too much like faithlessness to Wilford, too much as if he had been -right, when he charged her with preferring Morris to himself. - -“It cannot be;—oh, Morris, it cannot be,” she sobbed, when he pressed -her for an answer. “Don’t ask me why—don’t ever mention it again, for I -tell you it cannot be. My answer is final; it cannot be. I am sorry for -you, so sorry! I wish you had never loved me, for it cannot be.” - -She writhed herself from the arms which tried to detain her, and rising -to her feet left the room suddenly, and throwing on her wrappings -quitted the house without another word, leaving basket and umbrella -behind, and never knowing she had left them, or how the rain was pouring -down upon her unsheltered person, until, as she entered the narrow strip -of woodland, she was met by Aunt Betsy, who exclaimed at seeing her, and -asked, - -“What has become of your _umberell_? Your silk one too. It’s hopeful you -haven’t lost it. What has happened you?” and coming closer to Katy, Aunt -Betsy looked searchingly in her face. It was not so dark that she could -not see the traces of recent tears, and instinctively suspecting their -nature she continued, “Cather_ine_, have you gin Morris the mitten?” - -“Aunt Betsy, is it possible that you and Morris contrived this plan?” -Katy asked, half indignantly, as she began in part to understand her -aunt’s great anxiety for her to visit Linwood that afternoon. - -“Morris had nothing to do with it,” Aunt Betsy replied. “It was my -doin’s wholly, and this is the thanks I git. You quarrel with him and -git mad at me, who thought only of your good. Cather_ine_, you know you -like Morris Grant, and if he asked you to have him why don’t you?” - -“I can’t, Aunt Betsy. I can’t, after all that has passed. It would be -unjust to Wilford.” - -“Unjust to Wilford—fiddlesticks!” was Aunt Betsy’s expressive reply, as -she started on toward Linwood, saying, “she was going after the umberell -before it got lost, with nobody there to tend to things as they should -be tended to. Have you any word to send?” she asked, hoping Katy had -relented. - -But Katy had not; and with a toss of her head, which shook the rain -drops from her capeless shaker, Aunt Betsy went on her way, and was soon -confronting Morris, sitting just where Katy had left him, and looking -very pale and sad. - -He was not glad to see Aunt Betsy. He would rather be alone until such -time as he could control himself and still his throbbing heart. But with -his usual affability, he bade Aunt Betsy sit down, shivering a little -when he saw her in the chair where Katy had sat, her thin, angular body -presenting a striking contrast to the graceful, girlish figure which had -sat there an hour since, and the huge india rubbers she held up to the -fire, as unlike as possible to the boot of fairy dimensions he had -admired so much when it was drying on the hearth. - -“I met Cather_ine_,” Aunt Betsy began, “and mistrusted at once that -something was to pay, for a girl don’t leave her umberell in such a rain -and go cryin’ home for nothin’.” - -Morris colored, resenting for an instant this interference by a third -party; but Aunt Betsy was so honest and simple-hearted, that he could -not be angry long, and he listened calmly, while she continued, - -“I have not lived sixty odd years for nothing, and I know the signs -pretty well. I’ve been through the mill myself.” - -Here Aunt Betsy’s voice grew lower in its tone, and Morris looked up -with real interest, while she went on, - -“There’s Joel Upham—you know Joel—keeps a tin-shop now, and seats the -folks in meetin’. He asked me once for my company, and to be smart I -told him _no_, when all the time I meant _yes_, thinkin’ he would ask -agin; but he didn’t, and the next I knew he was keepin’ company with -Patty Adams, now his wife. I remembered I sniveled a little at being -taken at my word, but it served me right, for saying one thing when I -meant another. However, it don’t matter now. Joel is as clever as the -day is long, but he is a shiftless critter, never splits his kindlins -till jest bedtime, and Patty is pestered to death for wood, while his -snorin’ nights she says is awful, and that I never could abide; so, on -the whole, I’m better off than Patty.” - -Morris laughed a loud, hearty laugh, which emboldened his visitor to say -more than she had intended saying. - -“You just ask her agin. Once ain’t nothing at all, and she’ll come to. -She likes you; ’taint that which made her say no. It’s some foolish idea -about faithfulness to Wilford, as if he deserved that she should be -faithful. They never orto have had one another,—never; and now that he -is well in Heaven, as I do suppose he is, it ain’t I who hanker for him -to come back. Neither does Katy, and all she needs is a little urging, -to tell you yes. So ask her again, will you?” - -“I think it very doubtful. Katy knew what she was doing, and meant what -she said,” Morris replied; and with the consoling remark that if young -folks would be fools it was none of her business to bother with them, -Aunt Betsy pinned her shawl across her chest, and hunting up both basket -and umbrella, bade Morris good night, and went back across the fields to -the farm-house, hearing from Mrs. Lennox that Katy had gone to bed with -a racking headache. - - - - - CHAPTER XLVIII. - KATY. - - -“Are you of the same mind still?” Helen asked, when three weeks later -she returned from New York, and at the hour for retiring sat in her -chamber watching Katy as she brushed her hair, occasionally curling a -tress around her fingers and letting it fall upon her snowy nightdress. - -They had been talking of Morris, whom Katy had seen but once since that -rainy night, and that at church, where he had been the previous Sunday. -Katy had written an account of the transaction to her sister, who had -chosen to reply by word of mouth rather than by letter, and so the first -moment they were alone she seized the opportunity to ask if Katy was of -the same mind still as when she refused the doctor. - -“Yes, why shouldn’t I be?” Katy replied. “You, better than any one else, -know what passed between Wilford——” - -“Do you love Morris?” Helen asked, abruptly, without waiting for Katy to -finish her sentence. - -For an instant the hands stopped in their work, and Katy’s eyes filled -with tears, which dropped into her lap as she replied, - -“More than I wish I did, seeing I must always tell him no. It’s strange, -too, how the love for him keeps coming, in spite of all I can do. I have -not been there since, nor spoken with him until last Sunday, but I knew -the moment he entered the church, and when in the first chant I heard -his voice, my fingers trembled so that I could hardly play, while all -the time my heart goes out after the rest I always find with him. But it -cannot be. Oh, Helen! I wish Wilford had never known that Morris loved -me.” - -She was sobbing now, with her head in Helen’s lap, and Helen, smoothing -her bright hair, said gently, - -“You do not reason correctly. It is right for you to answer Morris yes, -and Wilford would say so, too. When I received your letter I read it to -Bell, who then told what Wilford said before he died. You must have -forgotten it, darling. He referred to a time when you would cease to be -his widow, and he said he was willing,—said so to her, and you. Do you -remember it, Katy?” - -“I do now, but I _had_ forgotten. I was so stunned then, so bewildered, -that it made no impression. I did not think he meant Morris, Helen; _do_ -you believe he meant Morris?” and lifting up her face Katy looked at her -sister with a wistfulness which told how anxiously she waited for the -answer. - -“I _know_ that he meant Morris,” Helen replied. “Both Bell and her -father think so, and they bade me tell you to marry Dr. Grant, with whom -you will be so happy.” - -“I cannot. It is too late. I told him no, and Helen, I told him a -falsehood, too, which I wish I might take back,” she added. “I said I -was sorry he ever loved me. when I was not, for the knowing that he -_had_ made me very happy. My conscience has smitten me cruelly for that -falsehood, told not intentionally, for I did not consider what I said.” - -Here was an idea at which Helen caught at once, and the next morning she -went to Linwood and brought Morris home with her. He had been there two -or three times since his return from Washington, but not since Katy’s -refusal, and her cheeks were scarlet as she met him in the parlor and -tried to be natural. He did not look unhappy. He was not taking his -rejection very hard, after all, she thought, and the little lady felt a -very little piqued to find him so cheerful, when she had scarcely known -a moment’s quiet since the day she carried him the custards and forgot -to bring away her umbrella. - -As it had rained that day, so it did now, a decided, energetic rain, -which set in after Morris came, and precluded the possibility of his -going home that night. - -“He would catch his death of cold,” Aunt Betsy said, while Helen, too, -joined her entreaties, until Morris consented, and the carriage which -came round for him at dark returned to Linwood with the message that the -doctor would pass the night at Deacon Barlow’s. - -During the evening he did not often address Katy directly, but he knew -each time she moved, and watched every expression of her face, feeling a -kind of pity for her, when, without appearing to do so intentionally, -the family, one by one, stole from the room,—Uncle Ephraim and Aunt -Hannah without any excuse; Aunt Betsy to mix the cakes for breakfast; -Mrs. Lennox to wind the clock, and Helen to find a book for which Morris -had asked. - -Katy might not have thought strange of their departure, were it not that -neither one came back again, and after the lapse of ten minutes or more -she felt convinced that she had purposely been left alone with Morris. - -The weather and the family had conspired against her, but after one -throb of fear she resolved to brave the difficulty, and meet whatever -might happen as became a woman of twenty-three, and a widow. She knew -Morris was regarding her intently as she fashioned into shape the coarse -wool sock, intended for some soldier, and she could almost hear her -heart beat in the silence which fell between them ere Morris said to -her, in a tone which reassured her, - -“And so you told me a falsehood the other day, and your conscience has -troubled you ever since?” - -“Yes, Morris, yes; that is, I told you I was sorry that you ever loved -me, which was not exactly true, for, after I knew you did, I was happier -than before.” - -Her words implied a knowledge of his love previous to that night at -Linwood when he had himself confessed it, and he said to her -inquiringly, - -“You knew it, then, before I told you?” - -“From Wilford,—yes,” Katy faltered. - -“I understand now why you have been so shy of me,” Morris said; “but, -Katy, must this shyness continue always? Think, now, and say if you did -not tell more than _one_ falsehood the other night,—as you count -falsehoods?” - -Katy looked wonderingly at him, and he continued, - -“You said you could not be my wife. Was that true? Can’t you take it -back, and give me a different answer?” - -Katy’s cheeks were scarlet, and her hands had ceased to flutter about -the knitting which lay upon her lap. - -“I meant what I said,” she whispered; “for, knowing how Wilford felt, it -would not be right for me to be so happy.” - -“Then it’s nothing personal? If there were no harrowing memories of -Wilford, you could be happy with me. Is that it, Katy?” Morris asked, -coming close to her now, and imprisoning her hands, which she did not -try to take away, but let them lie in his as he continued, “Wilford was -willing at the last. Have you forgotten that?” - -“I had, until Helen reminded me,” Katy replied. “But, Morris, the -talking of this thing brings Wilford’s death back so vividly, making it -seem but yesterday since I held his dying head.” - -She was beginning to relent, Morris knew, and bending nearer to her he -said, - -“It was not yesterday. It will be two years in February; and this, you -know, is November. I need you, Katy. I want you so much. I have wanted -you all your life. Before it was wrong to do so, I used each day to pray -that God would give you to me, and now I feel just as sure that he has -opened the way for you to come to me as I am sure that Wilford is in -heaven. He is happy there, and shall a morbid fancy keep you from being -happy here? Tell me, then, Katy, will you be my wife?” - -He was kissing her cold hands, and as he did so he felt her tears -dropping on his hair. - -“If I say yes, Morris, you will not think that I never loved Wilford, -for I did, oh, yes! I did. Not exactly as I might have loved you, had -you asked me first, but I loved him, and I was happy with him, for if -there were little clouds, his dying swept them all away.” - -Katy was proving herself a true woman, who remembered only the good -there was in Wilford, and Morris did not love her less for it. She was -all the dearer to him, all the more desirable, and he told her so, -winding his arms about her, and resting her head upon his shoulder, -where it lay just as it had never lain before, for with the first kiss -Morris gave her, calling her “My own little Katy,” she felt stealing -over her the same indescribable peace she had always felt with him, -intensified now, and sweeter from the knowing that it would remain if -she should will it so. And she did will it so, kissing Morris back when -he asked her to, and thus sealing the compact of her second betrothal. -It was not exactly like the first. There was no tumultuous emotions, or -ecstatic joys, but Katy felt in her inmost heart that she was happier -now than then; that between herself and Morris there was more affinity -than there had been between herself and Wilford, and as she looked back -over the road she had come, and remembered all Morris had been to her, -she wondered at her blindness in not recognizing and responding to the -love in which she had now found shelter. - -It was very late that night when Katy went up to bed, and Helen, who was -not asleep, knew by the face on which the lamp-light fell that Morris -had not sued in vain. Aunt Betsy knew it, too, next morning, by the same -look on Katy’s face when she came down stairs, but this did not prevent -her saying abruptly, as Katy stood by the sink, - -“Be you two engaged?” - -“We are,” was Katy’s frank reply, which brought back all Aunt Betsy’s -visions of roasted fowls and frosted cake, and maybe a dance in the -kitchen, to say nothing of the feather bed which she had not dared to -offer Katy Cameron, but which she thought would come in play for “Miss -Dr. Grant.” - - - - - CHAPTER XLIX. - THE PRISONERS. - - -Many of the captives were coming home, and all along the Northern lines -loving hearts were waiting, and friendly hands outstretched to welcome -them back to “God’s land,” as the poor, suffering creatures termed the -soil over which waved the stars and stripes, for which they had fought -so bravely. Wistfully thousands of eyes ran over the long columns of -names of those returned, each eye seeking for its own, and growing dim -with tears as it failed to find it, or lighting up with untold joy when, -it was found. - -“Lieut. Robert Reynolds,” and “Thomas Tubbs,” Helen read among the list -of those just arrived at Annapolis, but “Captain Mark Ray” was not -there, and, with a sickening feeling of disappointment, she passed the -paper to her mother-in-law, and hastened away, to weep and pray that -what she so greatly feared might not come upon her. - -It was after Katy’s betrothal, and Helen was in New York, hoping to hear -news from Mark, and perhaps to see him ere long, for as nearly as she -could trace him from reports of others, he was last at Andersonville. -But there was no mention made of him, no sign by which she could tell -whether he still lived, or had long since been relieved from suffering. - -Early next day she heard that Mattie Tubbs had received a telegram from -Tom, who would soon be at home, while later in the day Bell Cameron came -round to say that _Bob_ was living, but that he had lost his right arm, -and was otherwise badly crippled. It never occurred to Helen to ask if -this would make a difference. She only kissed Bell fondly, rejoicing at -her good fortune, and then sent her back to the home where there were -hot discussions regarding the propriety of receiving into the family a -maimed and crippled member. - -“It was preposterous to suppose Bob would expect it,” Juno said, while -the mother admitted that it was a most unfortunate affair, as indeed the -whole war had proved. For her part she sometimes wished the North had -let the South go quietly, as they wanted to, and so saved thousands of -lives, and prevented the country from being flooded with cripples and -negroes, and calls for more men and money. On the whole, she doubted the -propriety of prolonging the war; and she certainly doubted the propriety -of giving her daughter to a cripple. There was Arthur Grey, who had -lately been so attentive; he was a wealthier man than Lieutenant Bob, -and if Bell had any discretion she would take him in preference to a -disfigured soldier. - -Such was the purport’ of Mrs. Cameron’s remarks, to which her husband -listened, his eyes blazing with passion, which, the moment she finished, -burst forth in a storm of oaths and invectives against what, with his -pet adjective, he called her “Copperhead principles,” denouncing her as -a traitor, reproaching her for the cruelty which would separate her -daughter from Robert Reynolds, because he had lost an arm in the service -of his country; and then turning fiercely to Bell with the words, - -“But it isn’t for you to say whether he shall or shall not have Bell. -She is of age. Let her speak for herself.” - -And she did speak, the noble, heroic girl, who had listened, with bitter -scorn, to what her mother and sister said, and who now, with quivering -nostrils, and voice hoarse with emotion, answered slowly and -impressively, - -“I would marry Lieutenant Reynolds if he had only his _ears_ left to -hear me tell him how much I love and honor him! Arthur Grey! Don’t talk -to me of him! the craven coward, who swore he was fifty to avoid the -draft.” - -After this, no more was said to Bell, who, the moment she heard Bob was -at home, went to his father’s house and asked to see him. - -He was sleeping when she entered his room; and pushing back the heavy -curtain, so that the light would fall more directly upon him, Mrs. -Reynolds went out and left her there alone. - -With a beating heart she stood looking at his hollow eyes, his sunken -cheek, his short, dry hair, and thick gray skin, but did not think of -his arm, until she glanced at the wall, where hung a large sized -photograph, taken in full uniform, the last time he was at home, and in -which his well-developed figure showed to good advantage. Could it be -that the wreck before her had ever been as full of life and vigor as the -picture would indicate, and was that arm which held the sword severed -from the body, and left a token of the murderous war? - -“Poor Bob! how much he must have suffered,” she whispered, and kneeling -down beside him she hid her face in her hands, weeping bitter tears for -her armless hero. - -The motion awakened Robert, who gazed for a moment in surprise at the -kneeling, sobbing maiden; then when sure it was she, he raised himself -in bed, and ere Bell could look up, _two arms_, one quite as strong as -the other, were wound around her neck, and her head was pillowed upon -the breast, which heaved with strong emotions as the soldier said, - -“My darling Bell, you don’t know how much good this meeting does me!” - -He kissed her many times, and Bell did not prevent it, but gave him kiss -after kiss, then, still doubting the evidence of her eyes, she unclasped -his clinging arms, and holding both his poor hands in hers, gave vent to -a second gush of tears as she said, - -“I am so glad—oh, so glad!” - -Then, as it occurred to her that he might perhaps misjudge her, and put -a wrong construction upon her joy, she added, - -“I did not care for myself, Robert. Don’t think I cared for myself, or -was ever sorry a bit on my own account.” - -Bob looked a little bewildered as he replied, “Never were sorry and -never cared!—I can scarcely credit that, for surely your tears and -present emotions belie your words.” - -Bell knew he had not understood her, and said, - -“Your _arm_, Robert, your arm. We heard that it was cut off, and that -you were otherwise mutilated.” - -“Oh, that’s it, then!” and something like his old mischievous smile -glimmered about Bob’s mouth as he added, “They spared my _arms_, but, -Bell,” and he tried to look very solemn, “suppose I tell you that they -hacked off both my legs, and if you marry me, you must walk all your -life by the side of _wooden pins_ and _crutches_!” - -Bell knew by the curl of his lip that he was teasing her, and she -answered laughingly, - -“Wooden pins and crutches will be all the fashion when the war is -over—badges of honor of which any woman might be proud.” - -“Well, Bell,” he replied, “I am afraid there is no such honor in store -for my wife, for if I ever get back my strength and the flesh upon my -bones, she must take me with legs and arms included. Not even a scratch -or wound of any kind with which to awaken sympathy.” - -He appeared very bright and cheerful; but when after a moment Bell asked -for Mark Ray, there came a shadow over his face, and with quivering lips -he told a tale which blanched Bell’s cheeks, and made her shiver with -pain and dread as she thought of Helen—for Mark _was dead_—shot down as -he attempted to escape from the train which took them from one prison to -another. He was always devising means of escape, succeeding several -times, but was immediately captured and brought back, or sent to some -closer quarter, Robert said; but his courage never deserted him, or his -spirits either. He was the life of them all, and by his presence kept -many a poor fellow from dying of homesickness and despair. But he was -dead; there could be no mistake, for Robert saw him when he jumped, -heard the ball which went whizzing after him, saw him as he fell on the -open field, saw a man from a rude dwelling near by go hurriedly towards -him, firing his own revolver, as if to make the death deed doubly sure. -Then as the train slacked its speed, with a view, perhaps, to take the -body on board, he heard the man who had reached Mark, and was bending -over him, call out, “Go on, I’ll tend to him, the bullet went right -through here;” and he turned the dead man’s face towards the train, so -all could see the blood pouring from the temple which the finger of the -ruffian touched. - -“Oh, Helen! poor Helen! how can I tell her, when she loved him so much!” -Bell sobbed. - -“You will do it better than any one else,” Bob said. “You will be very -tender with her; and, Bell, tell her, as some consolation, that he did -not break with the treatment, as most of us wretches did; he kept up -wonderfully—said he was perfectly well—and, indeed, he looked so. Tom -Tubbs, who was his shadow, clinging to him with wonderful fidelity, will -corroborate what I have said. He was with us; he saw him, and only -animal force prevented him from leaping from the car and going to him -where he fell. I shall never forget his shriek of agony at the sight of -that blood-stained face, turned an instant towards us.” - -“Don’t, don’t!” Bell cried again; “I can’t endure it!” and as Mrs. -Reynolds came in she left her lover and started for Mrs. Banker’s, -meeting on the steps Tom Tubbs himself, who had come on an errand -similar to her own. - -“Sit here in the hall a moment,” she said to him, as the servant -admitted them both. “I must see Mrs. Ray first.” - -Helen was reading to her mother-in-law; but she laid down her book and -came to welcome Bell, detecting at once the agitation in her manner, and -asking if she had bad news from Robert. - -“No, Robert is at home; I have just come from there, and he told me—oh! -Helen, can you bear it?—_Mark is dead_—shot twice as he jumped from the -train taking him to another prison. Robert saw it and knew that he was -dead.” - -Bell could get no further, for Helen, who had never fainted in her life, -did so now, lying senseless so long that the physician began to think it -would be a mercy if she never came back to life, for her reason, he -fancied, had fled. But Helen did come back to life, with reason -unimpaired, and insisted upon hearing every detail of the dreadful -story, both from Bell and Tom. The latter confirmed all Lieutenant -Reynolds had said, besides adding many items of his own. Mark was dead, -there could be no doubt of it; but with the tenacity of a strong, -hopeful nature, the mother clung to the illusion that possibly the ball -stunned, instead of killing—that he would yet come back; and many a time -as the days went by, that mother started at the step upon the walk, or -ring of the bell, which she fancied might be his, hearing him sometimes -calling in the night storm for her to let him in, and hurrying down to -the door only to be disappointed and go back to her lonely room to weep -the dark night through. - -With Helen there were no such illusions. After talking calmly and -rationally with both Robert and Tom, she knew her husband was dead, and -never watched and waited for him as his mother did. She had heard from -Mark’s companions in suffering all they had to tell, of his captivity -and his love for her which manifested itself in so many different ways. -Passionately she had wept over the tress of faded hair which Tom Tubbs -brought to her, saying, “he cut it from his head just before we left the -prison, and told me if he never got home and I did, to give the lock to -you, and say that all was well between him and God—that your prayers had -saved him. He wanted you to know that, because, he said, it would -comfort you most of all.” - -And it did comfort her when she looked up at the clear wintry heavens -and thought that her lost one was there. It was her first real trial, -and it crushed her with its magnitude, so that she could not submit at -once, and many a cry of desolate agony broke the silence of her room, -where the whole night through she sat musing of the past, and raining -kisses upon the little lock of hair which from the Southern prison had -come to her, sole relic of the husband so dearly loved and truly -mourned. How faded it was from the rich brown she remembered so well, -and Helen gazing at it could realize in part the suffering and want -which had worn so many precious lives away. It was strange she never -dreamed of him. She often prayed that she might, so as to drive from her -mind, if possible, the picture of the prostrate form upon the low, damp -field, and the blood-stained face turned in its mortal agony towards the -southern sky and the pitiless foe above it. So she always saw him, -shuddering as she wondered if the foe had buried him decently or left -his bones to bleach upon the open plain. - -Poor Helen, she was widowed indeed, and it needed not the badge of -mourning to tell how terribly she was bereaved. But the badge was there, -too, for in spite of the hope which said, “he is not dead,” Mrs. Banker -yielded to Helen’s importunities, and clothed herself and -daughter-in-law in the habiliments of woe, still waiting, still -watching, still listening for the step she should recognize so quickly, -still looking down the street; but looking, alas! in vain. The winter -passed away. Captive after captive came home, heart after heart was -cheered by the returning loved one, but for the inmates of No. — the -heavy cloud grew blacker, for the empty chair by the hearth remained -unoccupied, and the aching hearts uncheered. _Mark Ray did not come -back._ - - - - - CHAPTER L. - THE DAY OF THE WEDDING. - - -Those first warm days of March, 1865, when spring and summer seemed to -kiss each other and join hands for a brief space of time, how balmy, how -still, how pleasant they were, and how bright the farm-house looked, -where preparations for Katy’s second bridal were going rapidly forward. -Aunt Betsy was in her element, for now had come the reality of the -vision she had seen so long, of house turned upside down in one grand -onslaught of suds and sand, then, righted again by magic power, and -smelling very sweet and clean from its recent ablutions—of turkeys dying -in the barn, of chickens in the shed, of loaves of frosted cake, with -cards and cards of snowy biscuit piled upon the pantry shelf—of jellies, -tarts, and chicken salad—of home-made wine, and home-brewed beer, with -tea and coffee portioned out and ready for the evening. - -In the dining-room the table was set with the new China ware and silver, -a joint Christmas gift from Helen and Katy to their good Aunt Hannah, as -real mistress of the house. - -“Not plated ware, but the gen-oo-ine article,” Aunt Betsy had explained -at least twenty times to those who came to see the silver, and she -handled it proudly now as she took it from the flannel bags in which -Mrs. Deacon Bannister said it must be kept, and placed it on a -side-table. - -The coffee-urn was Katy’s, so was the tea-kettle and the massive -pitcher, but the rest was “ours,” Aunt Betsy complacently reflected as -she contemplated the glittering array, and then hurried off to see what -was burning on the stove, stumbling over Morris as she went, and telling -him “he had come too soon—it was not fittin’ for him to be there under -foot until he was wanted.” - -Without replying directly to Aunt Betsy, Morris knocked with a vast -amount of assurance at a side door, which opened directly, and Katy’s -glowing face looked out, and Katy’s voice was heard, saying joyfully, - -“Oh, Morris, it’s you. I’m so glad you’ve come, for I wanted”—— - -But what she wanted was lost to Aunt Betsy by the closing of the door, -and Morris and Katy were alone in the little sewing room where latterly -they had passed so many quiet hours together, and where lay the bridal -dress with its chaste and simple decorations. Katy had clung tenaciously -to her mourning robe, asking if she _might_ wear black, as ladies -sometimes did. But Morris had promptly answered no. His bride, if she -came to him willingly, must not come clad in widow’s weeds, for when she -became his wife she would cease to be a widow. - -And so black was laid aside, and Katy, in soft tinted colors, with her -bright hair curling on her neck, looked as girlish and beautiful as if -in Greenwood there were no pretentious monument, with Wilford’s name -upon it, nor any little grave in Silverton where Baby Cameron slept. She -had been both wife and mother, but she was quite as dear to Morris as if -she had never borne other name than Katy Lennox, and as he held her for -a moment to his heart he thanked God who had at last given to him the -idol of his boyhood and the love of his later years. Across their -pathway no shadow was lying, except when they remembered Helen, on whom -the mantle of widowhood had fallen just as Katy was throwing it off. - -Poor Helen! the tears always crept to Katy’s eyes when she thought of -her, and now, as she saw her steal across the road and strike into the -winding path which led to the pasture where the pines and hemlock grew, -she nestled closer to Morris, and whispered, - -“Sometimes I think it wrong to be so happy when Helen is so sad. I pity -her so much to-day.” - -And Helen was to be pitied, for her heart was aching to its very core. -She had tried to keep up through the preparations for Katy’s bridal, -tried to seem interested and even cheerful, while all the time a hidden -agony was tugging at her heart, and life seemed a heavier burden than -she could bear. - -All her portion of the work was finished now, and in the balmy -brightness of that warm April afternoon she went into the fields where -she could be alone beneath the soft summer-like sky, and pour out her -pent-up anguish into the ear of Him who had so often soothed and -comforted her when other aids had failed. Last night, for the first time -since she heard the dreadful news, she had dreamed of Mark, and when she -awoke she still felt the pressure of his lips upon her brow, the touch -of his arm upon her waist, and the thrilling clasp of his warm hand as -it pressed and held her own. But that was a dream, a cruel delusion, and -its memory made the more dark and dreary as she went slowly up the -beaten path, pausing once beneath a chestnut tree and leaning her -throbbing head against the shaggy bark as she heard in the distance the -shrill whistle of the downward train from Albany, and thought as she -always did when she heard that whistle, “Oh, if that heralded Mark’s -return, how happy I should be.” But many sounds like that had echoed -across the Silverton hills, bringing no hope to her, and now as it again -died away in the Cedar Swamp she pursued her way up the path till she -reached a long white ledge of rocks—“The lovers’ Rock,” some called it, -for village boys and maidens knew the place, repairing to it often, and -whispering their vows beneath the overhanging pines, which whispered -back again, and told the winds the story which though so old is always -new to her who listens and to him who tells. - -Just underneath the pine there was a large flat stone, and there Helen -sat down, gazing sadly upon the valley below, and the clear waters of -Fairy Pond gleaming in the April sunshine which lay so warmly on the -grassy hills and flashed so brightly from the cupola at Linwood, where -the national flag was flying. For a time Helen watched the banner as it -shook its folds to the breeze, then as she remembered with what a -fearful price that flag had been saved from dishonor, she hid her face -in her hands and sobbed bitterly. - -“God help me not to think I paid too dearly for my country’s rights. Oh, -Mark, my husband, I may be wrong, but _you_ were dearer to me than many, -many countries, and it is hard to give you up—hard to know that the -notes of peace which float up from the South will not waken you in that -grave which I can never see. Oh, Mark, my darling, my darling, I love -you so much, I miss you so much, I want you so much. God help me to -bear. God help to say, ‘Thy will be done.’” - -She was rocking to and fro in her grief, with her hands pressed over her -face, and for a long time she sat thus, while the sun crept on further -towards the west, and the freshened breeze shook the tasseled pine above -her head and kissed the bands of rich brown hair, from which her hat had -fallen. She did not heed the lapse of time, nor hear the footstep coming -up the pathway to the ledge where she was sitting, the footstep which -paused at intervals, as if the comer were weary, or in quest of some -one, but which at last came on with rapid bounds as an opening among the -trees showed where Helen sat. It was a tall young man who came, a young -man, sun-burned and scarred, with uniform soiled and worn, but with the -fire in his brown eyes unquenched, the love in his true heart unchanged, -save as it was deeper, more intense for the years of separation, and the -long, cruel suspense, which was all over now. The grave had given up its -dead, the captive was released, and through incredible suffering and -danger had reached his Northern home, had sought and found his girl-wife -of a few hours, for it was Mark Ray speeding up the path, and holding -back his breath as he came close to the bowed form upon the rock, -feeling a strange throb of awe when he saw the _mourning dress_, and -knew it was worn for him. A moment more, and she lay in his arms; white -and insensible, for with the sudden winding of his arms around her neck, -the pressure of his lips upon her cheek, the calling of her name, and -the knowing it was really her husband, she had uttered a wild, -impassioned cry, half of terror, half of joy, and fainted entirely away, -just as she did when told that he was dead! There was no water near, but -with loving words and soft caresses Mark brought her back to life, -raining both tears and kisses upon the dear face which had grown so -white and thin since the Christmas eve when the wintry star light had -looked down upon their parting. For several moments neither could speak -for the great choking joy which wholly precluded the utterance of a -word. Helen was the first to rally. With her head lying in Mark’s lap -and pillowed on Mark’s arm, she whispered, - -“Let us thank God together. You, too, have learned to pray.” - -Reverently Mark bent his head to hers, and the pine boughs overhead -heard, instead of mourning notes, a prayer of praise, as the reunited -wife and husband fervently thanked God, who had brought them together -again. - -Not until nearly a half hour was gone, and Helen had begun to realize -that the arm which held her so tightly was genuine flesh and blood, and -not mere delusion, did she look up into the face, glowing with so much -of happiness and love. Upon the forehead, and just beneath the hair, -there was a savage scar, and the flesh about it was red and angry still, -showing how sore and painful it must have been, and making Helen shudder -as she touched it with her lips, and said, - -“Poor, darling Mark! that’s where the cruel ball entered; but where is -the other scar,—the one made by the man who went to you in the fields. I -have tried so hard not to hate him for firing at a fallen foe.” - -“Rather pray for him, darling. Bless him as the savior of your husband’s -life, the noble fellow but for whom I should not have been here now, for -he was a Unionist, as true to the old flag as Abraham himself,” Mark Ray -replied; and then, as Helen looked wonderingly at him, he laid her head -in an easier position upon his shoulder, and told her a story so strange -in its details, that but for the frequent occurrence of similar -incidents, it would be pronounced wholly unreal and false. - -Of what he suffered in the Southern prisons he did not speak, either -then or ever after, but began with the day when, with a courage born of -desperation, he jumped from the moving train and was shot down by the -guard. Partially stunned, he still retained sense enough to know when a -tall form bent over him, and to hear the rough but kindly voice which -said, - -“Play ’possum, Yank. Make b’lieve you’re dead, and throw ’em off the -scent.” - -This was the last he knew for many weeks, and when again he woke to -consciousness he found himself on the upper floor of a dilapidated hut, -which stood in the centre of a little wood, his bed a pile of straw, -over which was spread a clean patch-work quilt, while seated at his -side, and watching him intently, was the same man who had bent over him -in the field, and shouted to the rebels that he was dead. - -“I shall never forget my sensations then,” Mark said, “for with the -exception of this present hour, when I hold you in my arms, and know the -danger is over, I never experienced a moment of greater happiness and -rest than when, up in that squalid garret, I came back to life again, -the pain in my head all gone, and nothing left save a delicious feeling -of languor, which prompted me to lie quietly for several minutes, -examining my surroundings, and speculating upon the chance which brought -me there. That I was a prisoner I did not doubt, until the old man at my -side said to me cheerily, - -“Well, old chap, you’ve come through it like a major, though I was -mighty dubus a spell about that pesky ball. But old Aunt Bab and me -fished it out, and since then you’ve begun to mend.” - -“‘Where am I? Who are you?’ I asked, and he replied, ‘Who be I? Why, I’m -_Jack Jennins_, the rarinest, redhotedest secesh there is in these yer -parts, so the Rebs thinks; but ’twixt you and me, boy, I’m the tallest -kind of a Union,—got a piece of the old flag sowed inside of my boots, -and every night before sleepin’ I prays the Lord to gin Abe the victory, -and raise Cain generally in t’other camp, and forgive Jack Jennins for -tellin’ so many lies, and makin’ b’lieve he’s one thing when you know -and he knows he’s t’other. If I’ve _spared_ one Union chap, I’ll bet I -have a hundred, me and old Bab, a black woman who lives here and tends -to the cases I fotch her, till we contrive to git ’em inter Tennessee, -whar they hev to shift for themselves.’ - -“I could only press his hand in token of my gratitude while he went on -to say, ‘Them was beans I fired at you that day, but they sarved every -purpose, and them scalliwags on the train s’pose you were put -underground weeks ago, if indeed you wasn’t left to rot in the sun, as -heaps and heaps on ’em is. Nobody knows you are here but Bab and me, and -nobody must know if you want to git off with a whole hide. I could git a -hundred dollars by givin’ you up, but you don’t s’pose Jack Jennins is a -gwine to do that ar infernal trick. No, sir,’ and he brought his brawny -fist down upon his knee with a force which made me tremble, while I -tried to express my thanks for his great kindness. He was a noble man, -Helen, while Aunt Bab, the colored woman, who nursed me so tenderly, and -whose black, bony hands I kissed at parting, was as true a woman as any -with a fairer skin and more beautiful exterior. - -“For three weeks longer I stayed up in that loft, and in that time three -more escaped prisoners were brought there, and one Union refugee from -North Carolina. We left in company one wild, rainy night, when the storm -and darkness must have been sent for our special protection, and Jack -Jennings cried like a little child when he bade me good-bye, promising, -if he survived the war, to find his way to the North and visit me in New -York. - -“We found these Unionists everywhere, and especially among the mountains -of Tennessee, where, but for their timely aid, we had surely been -recaptured. With blistered feet and bruised limbs we reached the lines -at last, when fever attacked me for the second time and brought me near -to death. Somebody wrote to you, but you never received it, and when I -grew better I would not let them write again, as I wanted to surprise -you. As soon as I was able I started North, my thoughts full of the -joyful meeting in store—a meeting which I dreaded too, for I knew you -must think me dead, and I felt so sorry for you, my darling, knowing, as -I did, you would mourn for your soldier husband. That my darling _has_ -mourned is written on her face, and needs no words to tell it; but that -is over now,” Mark said, folding his wife closer to him, and kissing the -pale lips, while he told her how, arrived at Albany, he had telegraphed -to his mother, asking where Helen was. - -“In Silverton,” was the reply, and so he came on in the morning train, -meeting his mother in Springfield as he had half expected to do, knowing -that she could leave New York in time to join him there. - -“No words of mine,” he said, “are adequate to describe the thrill of joy -with which I looked again upon the hills and rocks so identified with -you that I loved them for your sake, hailing them as old, familiar -friends, and actually growing sick and faint with excitement when -through the leafless woods I caught the gleam of Fairy Pond, where I -gathered the lilies for you. There is a wedding in progress at the -farm-house, I learned from mother, and it seems very meet that I should -come at this time, making, in reality, a double wedding when I can truly -claim my bride,” and Mark kissed Helen passionately, laughing to see how -the blushes broke over her white face, and burned upon her neck. - -Those were happy moments which they passed together upon that ledge of -rocks, happy enough to atone for all the dreadful past, and when at last -they rose and slowly retraced their steps to the farm-house, it seemed -to Mark that Helen’s cheeks were rounder than when he found her, while -Helen knew that the arm on which she leaned was stronger than when it -first encircled her an hour or two before. - - - - - CHAPTER LI. - THE WEDDING. - - -On the same train with Mrs. Banker and Mark, Bell Cameron came with Bob, -but father Cameron was not able to come; he would gladly have done so if -he could, and he sent his blessing to Katy with the wish that she might -be very happy in her second married life. This message Bell gave to -Katy, and then tried to form some reasonable excuse for her mother’s and -Juno’s absence, for she could not tell how haughtily both had declined -the invitation, Juno finding fault because Katy had not waited longer -than two years, and Mrs. Cameron blaming her for being so very vulgar as -to be married at home, instead of in church. On this point Katy herself -had been a little disquieted, feeling how much more appropriate it was -that she be married in the church, but shrinking from standing again a -bride at the same altar where she had once before been made a wife. She -could not do it, she finally decided; there would be too many harrowing -memories crowding upon her mind, and as Morris did not particularly care -where the ceremony was performed, it was settled that it should be at -the house, even though Mrs. Deacon Bannister did say that “she had -supposed Dr. Grant too _High Church_ to do anything so _Presbyterianny_ -as that.” - -Bell’s arrival at the farm-house was timely; for the unexpected -appearance in their midst of one whom they looked upon as surely dead -had stunned and bewildered the family to such an extent that it needed -the presence of just such a matter-of-fact, self-possessed woman as -Bell, to bring things back to their original shape. It was wonderful how -the city girl fitted into the vacant niches, seeing to everything which -needed seeing to, and still finding time to steal away alone with -Lieutenant Bob, who kept her in a painful state of blushing, by -constantly wishing it was his bridal night as well as Dr. Grant’s, and -by inveighing against the weeks which must intervene, ere the day -appointed for the grand ceremony, to take place in Grace Church, and -which was to make Bell his wife. - - * * * * * - -“Come in here, Helen, I have something to show you,” Mrs. Banker said, -after she had again embraced and wept over her long lost son, whose -return was not quite real yet; and leading her daughter-in-law to her -bedroom, she showed her the elegant, white silk which had been made for -her just after her marriage, two years before, and which, with careful -forethought, she had brought with her, as more suitable now for the -wedding, than Helen’s mourning weeds. - -“I made the most of my time last night, after receiving Mark’s telegram, -and had it modernized somewhat,” she said. “And I brought your pearls, -for you will be most as much a bride as Katy, and I have a pride in -seeing my son’s wife appropriately dressed.” - -Far different were Helen’s feelings now, as she donned the elegant -dress, from what they had been the first and only time she wore it. Then -the bridegroom was where danger and death lay thickly around his -pathway; but now he was at her side, kissing her cheek, where the roses -were burning so brightly, and calling still deeper blushes to her face, -by his teasing observations and humorous ridicule of his own personal -appearance. Would she not feel ashamed of him in his soiled uniform? And -would she not cast longing glances at her handsome brother-in-law and -the stylish Lieutenant Bob? But Helen was proud of her husband’s -uniform, as a badge of what he had suffered; and when the folds of her -rich dress swept against it, she did not draw them away, but nestled -closer to him, leaning upon his shoulder; and when no one was near, -winding her soft arm about his neck once, whispering, “My darling Mark, -I cannot make it real yet.” - -Softly the night shadows fell around the farm-house, and in the rooms -below a rather mixed group was assembled—all the _élite_ of the town, -with many of Aunt Betsy’s neighbors, and the doctor’s patients, who had -come to see their physician married, rejoicing in his happiness, and -glad that the mistress of Linwood was not to be a stranger, but the -young girl who had grown up in their midst, and who, by suffering and -sorrow, had been moulded into a noble woman, worthy of Dr. Grant. She -was ready now for her second bridal, in her dress of white, with no -vestige of color in her face, and her great blue eyes shining with a -brilliancy which made them almost black. Occasionally, as her thoughts -leaped backward over a period of almost six years, a tear trembled on -her long eyelashes, but Morris kissed it away, asking if she were sorry. - -“Oh, no, not sorry that I am to be your wife,” she answered; “but it is -not possible that I should forget entirely the roughness of the road -which has led me to you.” - -“They are waiting for you,” was said several times, and down the stairs -passed Mark Ray and Helen, Lieut. Bob and Bell, with Dr. Grant and Katy, -whose face, as she stood again before the clergyman and spoke her -marriage vows, shone with a strange, peaceful light, which made it seem -to those who gazed upon her like the face of some pure angel. - -There was no thought then of that deathbed in Georgetown—no thought of -Greenwood or the little grave in Silverton, where the crocuses and -hyacinths were blossoming—no thought of anything save the man at her -side, whose voice was so full and earnest as it made the responses, and -who gently pressed the little hand as he fitted the wedding ring. It was -over at last, and Katy was Morris’s wife, blushing now as they called -her _Mrs. Grant_, and putting up her rosebud lips to be kissed by all -who claimed that privilege. Helen, too, came in for her share of -attention, and the opinion of the guests as to the beauty of the -respective brides, as they were termed, was pretty equally divided. - -In heavy rustling silk, which actually trailed an inch, and cap of real -lace, Aunt Betsy moved among the crowd, her face glowing with the -satisfaction she felt at seeing her nieces so much admired, and her -heart so full of good will and toleration that after the supper was -over, and she fancied a few of the younger ones were beginning to feel -tired, she suggested to Bell that she might start a _dance_ if she had a -mind to, either in the kitchen or the parlor, it did not matter where, -and “Ephraim would not care an atom,” a remark which brought from Mrs. -Deacon Bannister a most withering look of reproach, and slightly -endangered Aunt Betsy’s standing in the church. Perhaps Bell Cameron -suspected as much, for she replied that they were having a splendid time -as it was, and as Dr. Grant did not dance, they might as well dispense -with it altogether. And so it happened that there was no dancing at -Katy’s wedding, and Uncle Ephraim escaped the reproof which his brother -deacon would have felt called upon to give him had he permitted so -grievous a sin, while Mrs. Deacon Bannister, who, at the first trip of -the toe would have departed lest her eyes should look upon the evil -thing, was permitted to remain until “it was out,” and the guests -retired _en masse_ to their respective homes. - - * * * * * - -The carriage from Linwood stood at the farm-house door, and Katy, -wrapped in shawls and hood, was ready to go with her husband. There were -no tears shed at this parting, for their darling was not going far away; -her new home was just across the fields, and through the soft moonlight -they could see its chimney tops, and trace for some little distance the -road over which the carriage went bearing her swiftly on; her hands fast -locked in Morris’s, her head upon his arm, and the hearts of both too -full of bliss for either to speak a word until Linwood was reached, -when, folding Katy to his bosom in a passionate embrace, Morris said to -her, - -“We are home at last—your home and mine, my precious, precious wife.” - -The village clock was striking one, and the sound echoed across the -waters of Fairy Pond, awakening, in his marshy bed, a sleeping frog, who -sent forth upon the warm, still air a musical, plaintive note as Morris -bore his bride over the threshold and into the library, where a cheerful -fire was blazing. He had ordered it kindled there, for he had a fancy -ere he slept to see fulfilled a dream he had dreamed so often, of Katy -sitting as his wife in the chair across the hearth, where he placed her -now, himself removing her shawl and hood; then kneeling down before her, -with his arm around her waist and his head upon her shoulder, he prayed -aloud to the God who had brought her there, asking His blessing upon -their future life, and dedicating himself and all he had to his Master’s -service. It is such prayer which God delights to answer, and a peace, -deeper than they had yet known, fell upon that newly married pair at -Linwood. - - - - - CHAPTER LII. - CONCLUSION. - - -The scene shifts now to New York, where, one week after that wedding in -Silverton, Mark and Helen went, together with Morris and Katy. But not -to Madison Square. That house had been sold, and Katy saw it but once, -her tears falling fast as, driving slowly by with Morris, she gazed at -the closed doors and windows of what was once her home, and around which -lingered no pleasant memories save that it was the birthplace of baby -Cameron. Lieutenant Reynolds had thought to buy it, but Bell said, “No, -it would not be pleasant for Katy to visit me there, and I mean to have -her with me as much as possible.” So the house went to strangers, and a -less pretentious but quite as comfortable one was bought for Bell, so -far up town that Juno wondered how her sister would manage to exist so -far from everything, intimating that her visits would be far between, a -threat which Lieutenant Bob took quite heroically; indeed, it rather -enhanced the value of his pleasant home than otherwise, for Juno was not -a favorite, and his equanimity was not likely to be disturbed if she -never crossed his threshold. She was throwing bait to _Arthur Grey_, the -man who swore he was fifty to escape the draft, and who, now that the -danger was over, would gladly take back his oath and be forty, as he -really was. With the most freezing kiss imaginable Juno greeted Katy, -calling her “Mrs. Grant,” and treating Morris as if he were an entire -stranger, instead of the man whom to get she would once have moved both -earth and heaven. Mrs. Cameron, too, though glad that Katy was married, -and fully approving her choice, threw into her manner so much reserve -that Katy’s intercourse with her was anything but agreeable, and she -turned with alacrity to father Cameron, who received her with open arms, -calling her his daughter, and welcoming Morris as his _son_, taken in -Wilford’s stead. “My boy,” he frequently called him, showing how -willingly he accepted him as the husband of one whom he loved as his -child. Greatly he wished that they should stay with him while they -remained in New York, but Katy preferred going to Mrs. Banker’s, where -she would be more quiet, and avoid the bustle and confusion attending -the preparations for Bell’s wedding. It was to be a grand church affair, -and to take place during Easter week, after which the bridal pair were -going on to Washington, and if possible to Richmond, where Bob had been -a prisoner. Everything seemed conspiring to make the occasion a joyful -one, for all through the North, from Maine to California, the air was -rife with the songs of victory and the notes of approaching peace. But -alas! He who holds our country’s destiny in his hand changed that song -of gladness into a wail of woe, which, echoing through the land, rose up -to heaven in one mighty sob of anguish, as the whole nation bemoaned its -loss. Our President was dead, and New York was in mourning, so black, so -profound, that with a shudder Bell Cameron tossed aside the orange -wreath and said to her lover, “We will be married at home. I cannot now -go to the church, when everything seems like one great funeral.” - -And so in Mrs. Cameron’s drawing-room there was a quiet wedding, one -pleasant April morning, and Bell’s plain traveling dress was far more in -keeping with the gloom which hung over the great city than her gala -robes would have been, with a long array of carriages and merry wedding -chimes. Westward they went instead of South, and when our late lamented -President was borne back to the prairies of Illinois, they were there to -greet the noble dead, and mingle their tears with those who knew and -loved him long before the world appreciated his worth. - - * * * * * - -Softly the May rain falls on Linwood, where the fresh green grass is -springing and the early spring flowers blooming, and where Katy stands -for a moment in the bay window of the library, listening to the patter -on the tin roof overhead, and gazing wistfully down the road, as if -watching for some one; then turning, she enters the dining-room and -inspects the supper table, for her mother. Aunt Hannah, and Aunt Betsy -are visiting her this rainy afternoon, while Morris, on his return from -North Silverton, is to call for Uncle Ephraim and bring him home to tea. - -Linwood is a nice place to visit, and the old ladies enjoy it vastly, -especially Aunt Betsy, who never tires of telling what they have “over -to Katy’s,” and whose capeless shaker hangs often on the hall stand, -just as it hangs now, while she, good soul, sits in the pleasant parlor, -and darns the socks for Morris, taking as much pains as if it were a -network of fine lace she was weaving, instead of a shocking rent in some -luckless heel or toe. Up stairs there is a pleasant room which Katy -calls Aunt Betsy’s, and in it is the “feather bed,” which never found -its way to Madison Square. Morris himself did not think much of -feathers, but he made no objections when Aunt Betsy insisted upon Katy’s -having the bed kept for so many years, and only smiled a droll kind of -smile when he one morning met it coming up the walk in the wheelbarrow -which Uncle Ephraim trundled. - -Morris and his young wife are very happy together and Katy finds the -hours of his absence very long, especially when left alone. Even to-day -the time drags heavily, and she looks more than once from the bay -window, until at last Brownie’s head is seen over the hill, and a few -moments after Morris’s arm is around her shoulders, and her lips are -upturned for the kiss he gives as he leads her into the house, chiding -her for exposing herself to the rain, and placing in her hand three -letters, which she does not open until the cozy tea is over and her -family friends have gone. Then, while her husband looks over his evening -paper, she breaks the seals one by one reading first the letter from -“Mrs. Bob Reynolds,” who has returned from the West, and who is in the -full glory of her bridal calls. - -“I was never so happy in my life as I am now,” she wrote. “Indeed, I did -not know that a married woman could be so happy; but then every woman -has not a _Bob_ for her husband, which makes a vast difference. You -ought to see Juno. I know she envies me, though she affects the utmost -contempt for matrimony, and reminds me forcibly of the fox and the -grapes. You see, Arthur Grey is a failure, so far as Juno is concerned, -he having withdrawn from the field and laid himself at the feet of Sybil -Grandon, who will be Mrs. Grey, and a bride at Saratoga the coming -summer. Juno intends going too, as the bridesmaid of the party; but -every year her chances lessen, and I have very little hope that father -will ever call other than Bob his son, always excepting _Morris_, of -course, whom he has adopted in place of Wilford. You don’t know, Katy, -how much father thinks of you, blessing the day which brought you to us, -and saying that if he is ever saved, he shall in a great measure owe it -to your influence and consistent life after the great trouble came upon -you.” - -There were tears in Katy’s eyes as she read this letter from Bell, and -with a mental prayer of thanksgiving that she had been of any use in -guiding even one to the Shepherd’s Fold, she took next the letter whose -superscription brought back so vividly to her mind the daisy-covered -grave in Alnwick. Marian, who was now at Annapolis, caring for the -returned prisoners, did not write often, and her letters were prized the -more by Katy, who read with a beating heart the kind congratulations -upon her recent marriage, sent by Marian Hazelton. - - “I knew how it would end, when you were in Georgetown,” she wrote, - “and I am glad that it is so, praying daily that you may be happy with - Dr. Grant and remember the sad past only as some dream from which you - have awakened. I thank you for your invitation to visit Linwood, and - when my work is over I may come for a few weeks and rest in your - bird’s nest of a home. Thank God the war is ended; but _my boys_ need - me yet, and until the last crutch has left the hospital, I shall stay - where duty lies. What my life will henceforth be I do not know; but I - have sometimes thought that with the funds you so generously bestowed - upon me, I shall open a school for orphan children, taking charge - myself, and so doing some good. Will you be the Lady Patroness, and - occasionally enliven us with the light of your countenance? I have - left the hospital but once since you were here, and then I went to - Wilford’s grave. I prayed for you while there, remembering only that - _you_ had been his wife. In a little box where no eyes but mine ever - look, there is a bunch of flowers plucked from Wilford’s grave. They - are faded and withered, but something of their sweet perfume lingers - still; and I prize them as my greatest treasure; for, except the lock - of hair severed from his head, they are all that is remaining to me of - the past, which now seems so far away. It is time to make my nightly - round of visits, so I must bid you good-bye. The Lord lift up the - light of his countenance upon you, and be with you forever. - - MARIAN HAZELTON.” - -For a long time Katy held this letter in her hand, wondering if the -sorrowful woman whose life was once so strangely blended with that of -Marian Hazelton, could be the Katy Grant who sat by the evening fire at -Linwood, with the sunshine of perfect happiness resting on her heart. -“Truly He doeth all things well to those who wait upon Him,” she -thought, as she laid down Marian’s letter and took up the third and -last, Helen’s letter, dated at Fortress Monroe, whither, with Mark Ray, -she had gone just after Bell Cameron’s bridal. - -“You cannot imagine,” Helen wrote, “the feelings of awe and even terror -which steal over me the nearer I get to the seat of war, and the more I -realize the bloody strife we have been engaged in, and which, thank God, -has now nearly ceased. You have heard of John Jennings, the noble man -who saved my dear husband’s life, and of Aunt Bab, who helped in the -good work? Both are here, and I never saw Mark more pleased than when -seized around the neck by two long brawny arms, while a cheery voice -called out: ‘Hallow, old chap, has you done forgot John Jennins?’ I -verily believe Mark cried, and I know I did, especially when old Bab -came up and shook ‘young misses’ hand.’ I kissed her, Katy—all black, -and rough, and uncouth as she was. I wish you could see how grateful the -old creature is for every act of kindness. When we come home again, both -John and Bab will come with us, though what we shall do with John, is -more than I can tell. Mark says he shall employ him about the office, -and this I know will delight Tom Tubbs, who has again made friends with -Chitty, and who will almost worship John as having saved Mark’s life. -Aunt Bab shall have an honored seat by the kitchen fire, and a pleasant -room all to herself, working only when she likes, and doing as she -pleases. - -“Did I tell you that Mattie Tubbs was to be my seamstress? I am getting -together a curious household, you will say; but I like to have those -about me to whom I can do the greatest amount of good, and as I happen -to know how much Mattie admires ‘the Lennox girls,’ I did not hesitate -to take her. - -“We stopped at Annapolis on our way here, and I shall never forget the -pale, worn faces, nor the great sunken eyes which looked at me so -wistfully as I went from cot to cot, speaking words of cheer to the -sufferers, some of whom were Mark’s companions in prison, and whose eyes -lighted up with joy as they recognized him and heard of his escape. -There are several nurses here, but no words of mine can tell what _one_ -of them is to the poor fellows, or how eagerly they watch for her -coming. Following her with greedy glances as she moves about the room, -and holding her hand with a firm clasp, as if they would keep her with -them always. Indeed, more than one heart, as I am told, has confessed -its allegiance to her; but she answers all the same, ‘I have no love to -give. It died out long ago, and cannot be recalled.’ You can guess who -she is, Katy. The soldiers call her an angel, but we know her as -Marian.” - -There were great tear blots upon that letter as Katy put it aside, and -nestling close to Morris, laid her head upon his knee, where his hand -could smooth her golden curls, while she pondered Helen’s closing words, -thinking how much they expressed, and how just a tribute they were to -the noble woman whose life had been one constant sacrifice of self for -another’s good—“The soldiers call her an angel, but we know her as -Marian.” - - - THE END. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - -Reasons why you should obtain a Catalogue of our Publications - -1. 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font-weight:bold; } - .x-ebookmaker p.dropcap:first-letter { float: left; } -</style> - </head> - <body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Cameron pride, by Mary Jane Holmes</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Cameron pride</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>or purified by suffering</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Mary Jane Holmes</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: February 4, 2023 [eBook #69954]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CAMERON PRIDE ***</div> - -<div class='tnotes covernote'> - -<p class='c000'><strong>Transcriber’s Note:</strong></p> - -<p class='c000'>The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_frontis.jpg' alt='Mary J Holmes' class='ig001'> -</div> - -<div class='titlepage'> - -<div> - <h1 class='c001'>THE CAMERON PRIDE<br> <span class='small'>OR</span><br> <span class='xlarge'>PURIFIED BY SUFFERING</span><br> <span class='large'><span class='blackletter'>A Novel</span></span></h1> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div><span class='small'>BY</span></div> - <div><span class='large'><span class='sc'>Mrs. MARY J. HOLMES</span></span></div> - <div class='c003'><span class='small'>AUTHOR OF “TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE,” “HUGH WORTHINGTON,” “LENA RIVERS,” ETC., ETC.</span></div> - <div class='c002'>NEW YORK</div> - <div>HURST & COMPANY</div> - <div><span class='small'>PUBLISHERS</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='border'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div><span class='xlarge'>MARY J. HOLMES SERIES</span></div> - <div class='c003'>UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME</div> - <div class='c003'><span class='large'>By MARY J. HOLMES</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Aikenside.</div> - <div class='line'>Bad Hugh.</div> - <div class='line'>Cousin Maude.</div> - <div class='line'>Darkness and Daylight.</div> - <div class='line'>Dora Deane.</div> - <div class='line'>Edith Lyle’s Secret.</div> - <div class='line'>English Orphans, The.</div> - <div class='line'>Ethelyn’s Mistake.</div> - <div class='line'>Family Pride.</div> - <div class='line'>Homestead on the Hillside, The.</div> - <div class='line'>Hugh Worthington.</div> - <div class='line'>Leighton Homestead, The.</div> - <div class='line'>Lena Rivers.</div> - <div class='line'>Maggie Miller.</div> - <div class='line'>Marion Grey.</div> - <div class='line'>Meadow Brook.</div> - <div class='line'>Mildred; or, The Child of Adoption.</div> - <div class='line'>Millbank; or, Roger Irving’s Ward.</div> - <div class='line'>Miss McDonald.</div> - <div class='line'>Rector of St. Marks, The.</div> - <div class='line'>Rosamond.</div> - <div class='line'>Rose Mather.</div> - <div class='line'>Tempest and Sunshine.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><em>Price, postpaid, 50c. each, or any three books for $1.25</em></div> - <div class='c003'>HURST & COMPANY</div> - <div><span class='sc'>Publishers</span>, <span class='sc'>New York</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div>TO</div> - <div class='c003'>MY BROTHER,</div> - <div class='c003'><span class='blackletter'>Kirke Hawes,</span></div> - <div class='c003'>IN MEMORY OF THE OCTOBER DAY WHEN WE RAMBLED OVER THE</div> - <div class='c003'>SILVERTON HILLS,</div> - <div class='c003'>WHERE MORRIS AND KITTY LIVED,</div> - <div class='c003'>THIS VOLUME</div> - <div class='c003'>IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c005'><em>Brown Cottage, February 22, 1867.</em></p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span> - <h2 class='c006'>CONTENTS.</h2> -</div> - -<table class='table0'> - <tr> - <th class='c007'><span class='small'>CHAPTER</span></th> - <th class='c008'> </th> - <th class='c009'><span class='small'>PAGE</span></th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>I.</td> - <td class='c008'>The Farm-house at Silverton</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_7'>7</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>II.</td> - <td class='c008'>Linwood</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_19'>19</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>III.</td> - <td class='c008'>Wilford Cameron</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_26'>26</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>IV.</td> - <td class='c008'>Preparing for the Visit</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_35'>35</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>V.</td> - <td class='c008'>Wilford’s Visit</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_41'>41</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>VI.</td> - <td class='c008'>In the Spring</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_51'>51</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>VII.</td> - <td class='c008'>Wilford’s Second Visit</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_58'>58</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>VIII.</td> - <td class='c008'>Getting Ready to be Married</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_68'>68</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>IX.</td> - <td class='c008'>Before the Marriage</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_79'>79</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>X.</td> - <td class='c008'>Marriage at St. John’s</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_85'>85</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XI.</td> - <td class='c008'>After the Marriage</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_89'>89</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XII.</td> - <td class='c008'>First Months of Married Life</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_99'>99</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XIII.</td> - <td class='c008'>Katy’s First Evening in New York</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_109'>109</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XIV.</td> - <td class='c008'>Extracts from Bell Cameron’s Diary</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_121'>121</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XV.</td> - <td class='c008'>Toning Down—Bell’s Diary Continued</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_124'>124</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XVI.</td> - <td class='c008'>Katy</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_130'>130</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XVII.</td> - <td class='c008'>The New House</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_135'>135</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XVIII.</td> - <td class='c008'>Marian Hazelton</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_144'>144</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XIX.</td> - <td class='c008'>Saratoga and Newport</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_151'>151</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XX.</td> - <td class='c008'>Mark Ray at Silverton</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_156'>156</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XXI.</td> - <td class='c008'>A New Life</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_169'>169</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XXII.</td> - <td class='c008'>Helen in Society</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_183'>183</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XXIII.</td> - <td class='c008'>Baby’s Name</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_193'>193</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XXIV.</td> - <td class='c008'>Trouble in the Household</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_198'>198</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XXV.</td> - <td class='c008'>Aunt Betsy goes on a Journey</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_211'>211</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XXVI.</td> - <td class='c008'>Aunt Betsy Consults a Lawyer</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_226'>226</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XXVII.</td> - <td class='c008'>The Dinner Party</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_234'>234</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>XXVIII.</td> - <td class='c008'>The Seventh Regiment</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_241'>241</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XXIX.</td> - <td class='c008'>Katy goes to Silverton</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_247'>247</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XXX.</td> - <td class='c008'>Little Genevra</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_259'>259</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XXXI.</td> - <td class='c008'>After the Funeral</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_269'>269</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XXXII.</td> - <td class='c008'>The First Wife</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_274'>274</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XXXIII.</td> - <td class='c008'>What the Page Disclosed</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_281'>281</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XXXIV.</td> - <td class='c008'>The Effect</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_290'>290</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XXXV.</td> - <td class='c008'>The Interview</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_292'>292</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XXXVI.</td> - <td class='c008'>The Fever and its Results</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_302'>302</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XXXVII.</td> - <td class='c008'>The Confession</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_308'>308</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XXXVIII.</td> - <td class='c008'>Domestic Troubles</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_316'>316</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XXXIX.</td> - <td class='c008'>What Followed</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_327'>327</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XL.</td> - <td class='c008'>Mark and Helen</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_331'>331</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XLI.</td> - <td class='c008'>Christmas Eve at Silverton</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_335'>335</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XLII.</td> - <td class='c008'>After Christmas Eve</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_345'>345</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XLIII.</td> - <td class='c008'>Georgetown Hospital</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_349'>349</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XLIV.</td> - <td class='c008'>Last Hours</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_359'>359</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XLV.</td> - <td class='c008'>Mourning</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_366'>366</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XLVI.</td> - <td class='c008'>Prisoners of War</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_368'>368</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XLVII.</td> - <td class='c008'>Doctor Grant</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_372'>372</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XLVIII.</td> - <td class='c008'>Katy</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_385'>385</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>XLIX.</td> - <td class='c008'>The Prisoners</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_390'>390</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>L.</td> - <td class='c008'>The Day of the Wedding</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_396'>396</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>LI.</td> - <td class='c008'>The Wedding</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_404'>404</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>LII.</td> - <td class='c008'>Conclusion</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_408'>408</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<div class='chapter ph1'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div>THE CAMERON PRIDE;</div> - <div class='c003'><span class='large'>OR, PURIFIED BY SUFFERING.</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER I.<br> <span class='large'>THE FARM-HOUSE AT SILVERTON.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Uncle Ephraim Barlow was an old-fashioned man, -clinging to the old-time customs of his fathers, and looking -with but little toleration upon what he termed the “new-fangled -notions” of the present generation. Born and -reared amid the rocks and hills of the Bay State, his nature -partook largely of the nature of his surroundings, and he -grew into manhood with many a rough point adhering -to his character, which, nevertheless, taken as a whole, was, -like the wild New England scenery, beautiful and grand. -None knew Uncle Ephraim Barlow but to respect him, and -at the church in which he was a deacon, few would have -been missed more than the tall, muscular man, with the -long white hair, who, Sunday after Sunday, walked slowly -up the middle aisle to his accustomed seat before the altar, -and who regularly passed the contribution box, bowing involuntarily -in token of approbation when a neighbor’s gift -was larger than its wont, and gravely dropping in his own -ten cents—never more, never less, always ten cents—his -weekly offering, which he knew amounted in a year to -just five dollars and twenty cents. And still Uncle -Ephraim was not stingy, as the Silverton poor could -testify, for many a load of wood and bag of meal found -entrance to the doors where cold and hunger would have -otherwise been, while to his minister he was literally a -holder up of the weary hands, and a comforter in the time -of trouble.</p> - -<p class='c011'>His helpmeet, Aunt Hannah, like that virtuous woman -<span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span>mentioned in the Bible, was one “who seeketh wool and -flax, and worketh willingly with her hands, who riseth -while yet it is night, and giveth meat to her household,” -while Miss Betsy Barlow, the deacon’s maiden sister, was -a character in her way, and bore no resemblance to those -frivolous females to whom the Apostle Paul had reference -when he condemned the plaiting of hair and the wearing -of gold and jewels. Quaint, queer and simple-hearted, -she had but little idea of any world this side of heaven, -except the one bounded by the “huckleberry” hills and -the crystal waters of Fairy Pond, which from the back -door of the farm-house were plainly seen, both in the summer -sunshine and when the intervening fields were covered -with the winter snow.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The home of such a trio was, like themselves, ancient -and unpretentious, nearly one hundred years having elapsed -since the solid foundation was laid to a portion of the -building. Unquestionably it was the oldest house in -Silverton, for on the heavy oaken door of what was called -the back room was still to be seen the mark of a bullet, -left there by some marauders who, during the Revolution, -had encamped in that neighborhood. George Washington, -it was said, had spent a night beneath its roof, the deacon’s -mother pouring for him her Bohea tea and breaking her -home-made bread. Since that time several attempts had -been made to modernize the house. Lath and plaster had -been put upon the rafters and paper upon the walls, -wooden latches had given place to iron, while in the parlor, -where Washington had slept, there was the extravagance -of a porcelain knob, such, as Uncle Ephraim said, was -only fit for gentry who could afford to be grand. For -himself he was content to live as his father did; but young -folks, he supposed, must in some things have their way, -and so when his pretty niece, who had lived with him -from childhood to the day of her marriage, came back -to him a widow, bringing her two fatherless children and -a host of new ideas, he good-humoredly suffered her to -tear down some of his household idols and replace them -with her own. And thus it was that the farm-house gradually -changed its appearance, for young womanhood which -has had one glimpse of the outer world will not settle -<span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>down quietly amid fashions a century old. Lucy Lennox, -when she returned to the farm-house, was not quite the -same as when she went away. Indeed, Aunt Betsy in her -guileless heart feared that she had actually fallen from -grace, imputing the fall wholly to Lucy’s predilection for -a certain little book on whose back was written “Common -Prayer,” and at which Aunt Betsy scarcely dared to look, -lest she should be guilty of the enormities practiced by -the Romanists themselves. Clearer headed than his sister, -the deacon read the black-bound book, finding therein -much that was good, but wondering “why, when folks -promised to renounce the pomps and vanities, they did not -do so, instead of acting more stuck up than ever.” Inconsistency -was the underlying strata of the whole Episcopal -Church, he said, and as Lucy had declared her preference -for that church, he too, in a measure, charged her -propensity for repairs to the same source with Aunt Betsy; -but, as he could see no sin in what she did, he suffered -her in most things to have her way. But when she contemplated -an attack upon the huge chimney occupying the -centre of the building, he interfered; for there was nothing -he liked better than the bright fire on the hearth when -the evenings grew chilly and long, and the autumn rain -was falling upon the roof. The chimney should stand, -he said; and as no amount of coaxing could prevail on -him to revoke his decision, the chimney stood, and with -it the three fire-places, where, in the fall and spring, were -burned the twisted knots too bulky for the kitchen stove. -This was fourteen years ago, and in that lapse of time -Lucy Lennox had gradually fallen in with the family ways -of living, and ceased to talk of her cottage in western New -York, where her husband had died and where were born -her daughters, one of whom she was expecting home on -the warm July day when our story opens.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy Lennox had been for a year an inmate of Canandaigua -Seminary, whither she was sent at the expense of -a distant relative to whom her father had been guardian, -and who, during her infancy, had had a home with Uncle -Ephraim, Mrs. Lennox having brought him with her when -she returned to Silverton. Dr. Morris Grant he was now, -and he had just come home from a three years’ sojourn -<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>in Paris, and was living in his own handsome dwelling -across the fields toward Silverton village, and half a mile -or more from Uncle Ephraim’s farm-house. He had -written from Paris, offering to send his cousins, Helen and -Kate, to any school their mother might select, and as -Canandaigua was her choice, they had both gone thither -the year before, but Helen, the eldest, had fallen sick -within the first three months, and returned to Silverton, -satisfied that the New England schools were good enough -for her. This was Helen; but Katy was different. Katy -was more susceptible of polish and refinement—so the -mother thought; and as she arranged and rearranged the -little parlor, lingering longest by the piano, Dr. Morris’s -gift, she drew bright pictures of her favorite child, wondering -how the farm-house and its inmates would seem -to her after all she must have seen during her weeks of -travel since the close of the summer term. And then -she wondered why cousin Morris was so annoyed when told -that Katy had accepted an invitation to accompany Mrs. -Woodhull and her party on a trip to Montreal and Lake -George, taking Boston on her homeward route. Katy’s -movements were nothing to him, unless—and the little ambitious -mother struck at random a few notes of the soft-toned -piano as she thought how possible it was that the -interest always manifested by staid, quiet Morris Grant -for her light-hearted Kate was more than a brotherly interest, -such as he would naturally feel for the daughter of -one who had been to him a second father. But Katy was -so much a child when he went away to Paris that it could -not be. She would sooner think of Helen, who was more -like him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s Helen, if anybody,” she said aloud, just as a voice -near the window called out, “Please, Cousin Lucy, relieve -me of these flowers. I brought them over in honor of -Katy’s return.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Blushing guiltily, Mrs. Lennox advanced to meet a tall, -dark-looking man, with a grave, pleasant face, which, when -he smiled, was strangely attractive, from the sudden lighting -up of the hazel eyes and the glitter of the white, even -teeth disclosed so fully to view.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, thank you, Morris! Katy will like them, I am -<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>sure,” Mrs. Lennox said, taking from his hand a bouquet -of the choice flowers which grew only in the hothouse at -Linwood. “Come in for a moment, please.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, thank you,” the doctor replied. “There is a case -of rheumatism just over the hill, and I must not be idle -if I would retain the practice given to me. Not that I -make anything but good will as yet, for only the Silverton -poor dare trust their lives in my inexperienced hands. -But I can afford to wait,” and with another flash of the -hazel eyes Morris walked away a pace or two, then, as if -struck with some sudden thought, turned back, and fanning -his heated face with his leghorn hat, said, hesitatingly, -“By the way, Uncle Ephraim’s last payment on the old -mill falls due to-morrow. Tell him, if he says anything -in your presence, not to mind unless it is perfectly convenient. -He must be somewhat straitened just now, as -Katy’s trip cannot have cost him a small sum.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The clear, penetrating eyes were looking full at Mrs. -Lennox, who for a moment felt slightly piqued that Morris -Grant should take so much oversight of her uncle’s affairs. -It was natural, too, that he should, she knew, for there -was a strong liking between the old man and the young, -the latter of whom, having lived nine years in the family, -took a kindly interest in everything pertaining to it.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Uncle Ephraim did not pay the bills,” Mrs. Lennox -faltered at last, feeling intuitively how Morris’s delicate -sense of propriety would shrink from her next communication. -“Mrs. Woodhull wrote that the expense should be -nothing to me, and as she is fully able and makes so much -of Katy, I did not think it wrong.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Lucy Lennox! I am astonished!” was all Morris -could say, as the tinge of wounded pride dyed his cheek.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Kate was a connection—distant, it is true; but his blood -was in her veins, and his inborn pride shrank from receiving -so much from strangers, while he wondered at her -mother, feeling more and more convinced that what he -had so long suspected was literally true. Mrs. Lennox was -weak, Mrs. Lennox was ambitious, and for the sake of -associating her daughter with people whom the world had -placed above her she would stoop to accept that upon which -she had no claim.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>“Mrs. Woodhull was so urgent and so fond of Katy; -and then I thought it well to give her the advantage of -being with such people as compose that party, the very -first in Canandaigua, besides some from New York,” Mrs. -Lennox began in self-defence, but Morris did not stop to -hear more, and hurried off a second time, while Mrs. -Lennox looked after him, wondering at the feeling which -she could not understand. “If Katy can go with the -Woodhulls and their set, I certainly shall not prevent it,” -she thought, as she continued her arrangement of the -parlor, wishing that it was more like what she remembered -Mrs. Woodhull’s to have been, fifteen years ago.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Of course that lady had kept up with the times, and if -her old house was finer than anything Mrs. Lennox had -ever seen, what must her new one be, with all the modern -improvements? and leaning her head upon the mantel, -Mrs. Lennox thought how proud she should be could she -live to see her daughter in similar circumstances to the -envied Mrs. Woodhull, at that moment in the crowded -car between Boston and Silverton, tired, hot, and dusty, -and as nearly cross as a fashionable lady can be.</p> - -<p class='c011'>A call from Uncle Ephraim roused her, and going out -into the square entry she tied his linen cravat, and then -handing him the blue umbrella, an appendage he took -with him in sunshine and in storm, she watched him as -he stepped into his one-horse wagon and drove briskly -away in the direction of the depot, where he was to meet -his niece.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I wish Cousin Morris had offered his carriage,” she -thought, as the corn-colored wagon disappeared from view. -“The train stops five minutes at West Silverton, and -some of those grand people will be likely to see the turnout,” -and with a sigh as she doubted whether it were not -a disgrace as well as an inconvenience to be poor, she -repaired to the kitchen, where sundry savory smells betokened -a plentiful dinner.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Bending over the sink, with her cap strings tucked -back, her sleeves rolled up, and her short purple calico -shielded from harm by her broad check apron, Aunt Betsy -stood cleaning the silvery onions, and occasionally wiping -her dim old eyes as the odor proved too strong for her. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>At another table stood Aunt Hannah, deep in the mysteries -of the light white crust which was to cover the tender -chicken boiling in the pot, while in the oven bubbled and -baked the custard pie, remembered as Katy’s favorite, and -prepared for her coming by Helen herself—plain-spoken, -dark-eyed Helen—now out in the strawberry beds, picking -the few luscious berries which almost by a miracle had -been coaxed to wait for Katy, who loved them so dearly. -Like her mother, Helen had wondered how the change -would impress her bright little sister, for she remembered -that even to her obtuse perceptions there had come a pang -when after only three months abiding in a place where -the etiquette of life was rigidly enforced, she had returned -to their homely ways at Silverton, and felt that it was -worse than vain to try to effect a change. But Helen’s -strong sense, with the help of two or three good cries, had -carried her safely through, and her humble home among -the hills was very dear to her now. But she was Helen, -as the mother had said; she was different from Katy, who -might be lonely and homesick, sobbing herself to sleep -in her patient sister’s arms, as she did on that first night -in Canandaigua, which Helen remembered so well.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s better, too, now than when I came home,” Helen -thought, as with her rich, scarlet fruit she went slowly to -the house. “Morris is here, and the new church, and if -she likes she can teach Sunday-school, though maybe -she will prefer going with Uncle Ephraim. He will be -pleased if she does,” and pausing by the door, Helen -looked across Fairy Pond in the direction of Silverton village, -where the top of a slender spire was just visible—the -spire of St. John’s, built within the year, and mostly -at the expense of Dr. Morris Grant, who, a zealous churchman -himself, had labored successfully to instill into Helen’s -mind some of his own peculiar views, as well as to awaken -in Mrs. Lennox’s heart the professions which had lain -dormant for as long a time as the little black bound book -had lain on the cupboard shelf, forgotten and unread.</p> - -<p class='c011'>How the doctor’s views were regarded by the Deacon’s -family we shall see, by and by. At present our story has -to do with Helen, holding her bowl of berries by the rear -door and looking across the distant fields. With one last -<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>glance at the object of her thoughts she re-entered the -house, where her mother was arranging the square table -for dinner, bringing out the white stone china instead -of the mulberry set kept for every day use.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We ought to have some silver forks,” she said despondingly, -as she laid by each plate the three tined forks of -steel, to pay for which Helen and Katy had picked huckle-berries -on the hills and dried apples from the orchard.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Never mind, mother,” Helen answered cheerily: “if -Katy is as she used to be she will care more for us than -for silver, and I guess she is, for I imagine it would take -a great deal to make her anything but a warmhearted, -merry little creature.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This was sensible Helen’s tribute of affection to the -little, gay, chattering butterfly, at that moment an occupant -of Uncle Ephraim’s corn-colored wagon, and riding -with that worthy toward home, throwing kisses to every -barefoot boy and girl she met, and screaming with delight -as the old familiar way-marks met her view.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“There is Aunt Betsy, with her dress pinned up as -usual,” she cried, when at last the wagon stopped before -the door, and the four women came hurriedly out to meet -her, almost smothering her with caresses, and then holding -her off to see if she had changed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was very stylish in her pretty traveling dress of -gray, made under Mrs. Woodhull’s supervision, and nothing -could be more becoming than her jaunty hat, tied with -ribbons of blue, while the dainty kids, bought to match -the dress, fitted her fat hands charmingly, and the little -high-heeled boots of soft prunella were faultless in their -style. She was very attractive in her personal appearance, -and the mental verdict of the four females regarding her -intently was something as follows: Mrs. Lennox detected -unmistakable marks of the grand society she had been -mingling in, and was pleased accordingly; Aunt Hannah -pronounced her “the prettiest creeter she had ever seen;” -Aunt Betsy decided that her hoops were too big and her -clothes too fine for a Barlow; while Helen, who looked -beyond dress, or style, or manner, straight into her sister’s -soft blue eyes, brimming with love and tears, decided that -Katy was not changed for the worse. Nor was she. Truthful, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>loving, simple-hearted and full of playful life she -had gone from home, and she came back the same, never -once thinking of the difference between the farm-house and -Mrs. Woodhull’s palace, or if she did, giving the preference -to the former.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It was perfectly splendid to get home,” she said, -handing her gloves to Helen, her sun-shade to her mother, -her satchel to Aunt Hannah, and tossing her bonnet in -the vicinity of the water pail, from which it was saved by -Aunt Betsy, who put it carefully in the press, examining -it closely first and wondering how much it cost.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Deciding that “it was a good thumpin’ price,” she returned -to the kitchen, where Katy, dancing and curvetting -in circles, scarcely stood still long enough for them to see -that in spite of boarding-school fare, of which she had -complained so bitterly, her cheeks were rounder, her eyes -brighter, and her figure fuller than of old. She had improved, -but she did not appear to know it, or to guess -how beautiful she was in the fresh bloom of seventeen, -with her golden hair waving around her childish forehead, -and her deep blue eyes laughing so expressively with each -change of her constantly varying face. Everything animate -and inanimate pertaining to the old house, came in for -its share of notice. She kissed the kitten, squeezed the -cat, hugged the dog, and hugged the little goat, tied to his -post in the clover yard and trying so hard to get free. The -horse, to whom she fed handfuls of grass, had been already -hugged. She did that the first thing after strangling -Uncle Ephraim as she alighted from the train, and some -from the car window saw it, smiling at what they termed -the charming simplicity of an enthusiastic school-girl. -Blessed youth! blessed early girlhood, surrounded by a -halo of rare beauty! It was Katy’s shield and buckler, -warding off many a cold criticism which might otherwise -have been passed upon her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>They were sitting down to dinner now, and the deacon’s -voice trembled as, with the blessing invoked, he thanked -God for bringing back the little girl, whose head was for -a moment bent reverently, but quickly lifted itself up as -its owner, in the same breath with that in which the -deacon uttered his amen, declared how hungry she was, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>and went into rhapsodies over the nicely cooked viands -which loaded the table. The best bits were hers that day, -and she refused nothing until it came to Aunt Betsy’s -onions, once her special delight, but now declined, greatly -to the distress of the old lady, who having been on the -watch for “quirks,” as she styled any departure from long -established customs, now knew she had found one, and -with an injured expression withdrew the offered bowl, saying -sadly, “You used to eat ’em raw, Cathe<em>rine</em>; what’s -got into you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was the first time Aunt Betsy had called a name so -obnoxious to Kate, especially when, as in the present case, -great emphasis was laid upon the <em>rine</em>, and from past experience -Katy knew that her good aunt was displeased. -Her first impulse was to accept the dish refused; but when -she remembered her reason for refusing she said, laughingly, -“Excuse me, Aunt Betsy, I love them still, but—but—well, -the fact is, I am going by and by to run over -and see Cousin Morris, inasmuch as he was not polite -enough to come here, and you know it might not be so -pleasant.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The land!” and Aunt Betsy brightened. “If that’s -all, eat ’em. ’Tain’t no ways likely you’ll get near enough -to him to make any difference—only turn your head when -you shake hands.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Katy remained incorrigible, while Helen, who -guessed that her impulsive sister was contemplating a -warmer greeting of the doctor than a mere shaking of his -hands, kindly turned the conversation by telling how Morris -was improved by his tour abroad, and how much the poor -people thought of him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He is very fine looking, too,” she said, whereupon Katy -involuntarily exclaimed, “I wonder if he is as handsome -as Wilford Cameron? Oh, I never wrote about him, did -I?” and the little maiden began to blush as she stirred -her tea industriously.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Who is Wilford Cameron?” asked Mrs. Lennox.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, he’s Wilford Cameron, that’s all; lives on Fifth -Avenue—is a lawyer—is very rich—a friend of Mrs. Woodhull, -and was with us in our travels,” Kate answered -rapidly, the red burning on her cheeks so brightly that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>Aunt Betsy innocently passed her a big feather fan, saying -“she looked mighty hot.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And Katy was warm, but whether from talking of Wilford -Cameron or not none could tell. She said no more -of him, but went on to speak of Morris, asking if it were -true, as she had heard, that he built the new church in -Silverton.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, and runs it, too,” Aunt Betsy answered, energetically, -proceeding to tell “what goin’s on they had, with -the minister shiftin’ his clothes every now and agin’ and -the folks all talkin’ together. Morris got me in once,” she -said, “and I thought meetin’ was let out half a dozen -times, so much histin’ round as there was. I’d as soon go -to a show, if it was a good one, and I told Morris so. He -laughed and said I’d feel different when I knew ’em better; -but needn’t tell me that prayers made up is as good as -them as isn’t, though Morris, I do believe, will get to -Heaven a long ways ahead of me, if he is a ’Piscopal.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>To this there was no response, and being launched on -her favorite topic, Aunt Betsy continued:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If you’ll believe it, Helen here is one of ’em, and has -got a sight of ’Piscopal quirks into her head. Why, she -and Morris sing that talkin’-like singin’ Sundays when -the folks get up and Helen plays the accordeon.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Melodeon, aunty, melodeon,” and Helen laughed -merrily at her aunt’s mistake, turning the conversation -again, and this time to Canandaigua, where she had some -acquaintances.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Katy was so much afraid of Canandaigua, and what -talking of it might lead to, that she kept to Cousin Morris, -asking innumerable questions about his house and grounds, -and whether there were as many flowers there now as -there used to be in the days when she and Helen went to -say their lessons at Linwood, as they had done before -Morris sailed for Europe.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I think it right mean in him not to be here to see -me,” she said, poutingly, “and I am going over as quick -as I eat my dinner.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But against this all exclaimed at once. She was too -tired, the mother said, she must lie down and rest, while -Helen suggested that she had not told them about her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>trip, and Uncle Ephraim remarked that she would not -find Morris at home, as he was going that afternoon to -Spencer. This last settled it. Katy must stay at home; -but instead of lying down or talking about her journey, -she explored every nook and crevice of the old house and -barn, finding the nest Aunt Betsy had looked for in vain, -and proving to the anxious dame that she was right when -she insisted that the speckled hen had stolen her nest and -was in the act of setting. Later in the day, a neighbor -passing by spied the little maiden riding in the cart off -into the meadow, where she sported like a child among -the mounds of fragrant hay, playing her jokes upon the -sober deacon, who smiled fondly upon her, feeling how -much lighter the labor seemed because she was there with -him, a hindrance instead of a help, in spite of her efforts -to handle the rake skillfully.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Are you glad to have me home again, Uncle Eph?” -she asked when once she caught him regarding her with -a peculiar look.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, Katy-did, very glad?” he answered; “I’ve missed -you every day, though you do nothing much but bother -me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why did you look so funny at me just now?” Kate -continued, and the deacon replied: “I was thinking how -hard it would be for such a highty-tighty thing as you to -meet the crosses and disappointments which lie all along -the road which you must travel. I should hate to see your -young life crushed out of you, as young lives sometimes -are?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, never fear for me. I am going to be happy all -my life long. Wilford Cameron said I ought to be,” and -Katy tossed into the air a wisp of the new-made hay.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t know who Wilford Cameron is, but there’s no -ought about it,” the deacon rejoined. “God marks out -the path for us to walk in, and when he says it’s best, we -know it is, though some are straight and pleasant and -others crooked and hard.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ll choose the straight and pleasant then—why -shouldn’t I?” Katy asked, laughing, as she seated herself -upon a rock near which the hay cart had stopped.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Can’t tell what path you’ll take,” the deacon answered. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>“God knows whether you’ll go easy through the world, or -whether he’ll send you suffering to purify and make you -better.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Purified by suffering,” Katy said aloud, while a shadow -involuntarily crept for an instant over her gay spirits.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She could not believe <em>she</em> was to be purified by suffering. -She had never done anything very bad, and humming a -part of a song learned from Wilford Cameron she followed -after the loaded cart, returning slowly to the house, thinking -to herself that there must be something great and -good in the suffering which should purify at last, but -hoping she was not the one to whom this great good should -come.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was supper-time ere long, and after that was over -Katy announced her intention of going to Linwood whether -Morris were there or not.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I can see the housekeeper and the birds and flowers,” -she said, as she swung her straw hat by the string and -started from the door.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ain’t Helen going with you?” Aunt Hannah asked, -while Helen herself looked a little surprised.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Katy would rather go alone. She had a heap to -tell Cousin Morris, and Helen could go next time.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Just as you like,” Helen answered, good-naturedly, and -so Katy went alone to call on Morris Grant.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER II.<br> <span class='large'>LINWOOD.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Morris had returned from Spencer, and in his dressing-gown -and slippers was sitting by the window of his library, -looking out upon the purple sunshine flooding the western -sky, and thinking of the little girl coming so rapidly up -the grassy lane in the rear of the house. He was going -over to see her by and by, he said, and he pictured to himself -how she must look by this time, hoping that he should -not find her greatly changed, for Morris Grant’s memories -were very precious of the play-child who used to tease and -worry him so much with her lessons poorly learned, and -the never-ending jokes played off upon her teacher. He -had thought of her so often when across the sea, and, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>knowing her love of the beautiful, he had never looked -upon a painting or scene of rare beauty that he did not -wish her by his side sharing in the pleasure. He had -brought her from that far-off land many little trophies -which he thought she would prize, and which he was going -to take with him when he went to the farm-house. He -never dreamed of her coming there to-night. She would, -of course, wait for him, to call upon her first. How then -was he amazed when, just as the sun was going down -and he was watching its last rays lingering on the brow of -the hill across the pond, the library door was opened wide -and the room suddenly filled with life and joy, as a graceful -figure, with reddish golden hair, bounded across the -floor, and winding its arms around his neck gave him the -hearty kiss which Katy had in her mind when she declined -Aunt Betsy’s favorite vegetable.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Morris Grant was not averse to being kissed, and yet -the fact that Katy Lennox had kissed him in such a way -awoke a chill of disappointment, for it said that to her -he was the teacher still, the elder brother, whom, as a -child, she had loaded with caresses.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, Cousin Morris!” she exclaimed, “why didn’t you -come over at noon, you naughty boy! But what a splendid-looking -man you’ve got to be, though! and what do you -think of me?” she added, blushing for the first time, as -he held her off from him and looked into the sunny face.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I think you wholly unchanged,” he answered, so gravely -that Katy began to pout as she said, “And you are sorry, -I know. Pray what did you expect of me, and what would -you have me be?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Nothing but what you are—the same Kitty as of old,” -he answered, his own bright smile breaking all over his -sober face.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He saw that his manner repelled her, and he tried to -be natural, succeeding so well that Katy forgot her first -disappointment, and making him sit by her on the sofa, -where she could see him distinctly, she poured forth a -volley of talk, telling him, among other things, how much -afraid of him some of his letters made her—they were so -serious and so like a sermon.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You wrote me once that you thought of being a minister,” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>she added. “Why did you change your mind? -It must be splendid, I think, to be a young clergyman—invited -to so many tea-drinkings, and having all the girls -in the parish after you, as they always are after unmarried -ministers.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Into Morris Grant’s eyes there stole a troubled light -as he thought how little Katy realized what it was to be -a minister of God—to point the people heavenward and -teach them the right way. There was a moment’s pause, -and then he tried to explain to her that he hoped he had -not been influenced either by thoughts of tea-drinkings or -having the parish girls after him, but rather by an honest -desire to choose the sphere in which he could accomplish the -most good.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I did not decide rashly,” he said, “but after weeks -of anxious thought and prayer for guidance I came to the -conclusion that in the practice of medicine I could find -perhaps as broad a field for good as in the church, and so -I decided to go on with my profession—to be a physician -of the poor and suffering, speaking to them of Him who -came to save, and in this way I shall not labor in vain. -Many would seek another place than Silverton and its -vicinity, but something told me that my work was here, -and so I am content to stay, feeling thankful that my -means admit of my waiting for patients, if need be, and -at the same time ministering to the wants of those who -are needy.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Gradually, as he talked, there came into his face a light -born only from the peace which passeth understanding, -and the awe-struck Katy crept closer to his side and grasping -his hand in hers, said softly, “Dear cousin, what a -good man you are, and how silly I must seem to you, -thinking you cared for tea-drinkings, or even girls, when, -of course, you do not.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Perhaps I do,” the doctor replied, slightly pressing -the warm, fat hand holding his so fast. “A minister’s -or a doctor’s life would be dreary indeed if there was no -one to share it, and I have had my dreams of the girls, -or girl, who was some day to brighten my home.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He looked fully at Katy now, but she was thinking of -something else, and her next remark was to ask him rather -abruptly “how old he was?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>“Twenty-six last May,” he answered, while Katy continued, -“You are not old enough to be married yet. Wilford -Cameron is thirty.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Where did <em>you</em> meet Wilford Cameron?” Morris asked, -in some surprise, and then the story which Katy had not -told, even to her sister, came out in full, and Morris tried -to listen patiently while Katy explained how, on the very -first day of the examination, Mrs. Woodhull had come -in, and with her the grandest, proudest-looking man, who -the girls said was Mr. Wilford Cameron, from New York, -a fastidious bachelor, whose family were noted for their -wealth and exclusiveness, keeping six servants, and living -in the finest style; that Mrs. Woodhull, who all through -the year had been very kind to Katy, came to her after -school and invited her home to tea; that she had gone and -met Mr. Cameron; that she was very much afraid of him -at first, and was not sure that she was quite over it now, -although he was so polite to her all through the journey, -taking so much pains to have her see the finest sights, and -laughing at her enthusiasm.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Wilford Cameron with you in your trip?” Morris -asked, a new idea dawning on his mind.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, let me tell you,” and Katy spoke rapidly. “I -saw him that night, and then Mrs. Woodhull took me to -ride with him in the carriage, and then—well, I rode alone -with him once down by the lake, and he talked to me just -as if he was not a grand man and I a little school-girl. -And when the term closed I stayed at Mrs. Woodhull’s and -he was there. He liked my playing and liked my singing, -and I guess he liked me—that is, you know—yes, he liked -me <em>some</em>” and Katy twisted the fringe of her shawl, while -Morris, in spite of the pain tugging at his heart strings, -laughed aloud as he rejoined, “I have no doubt he did; -but go on—what next?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He said more about my joining that party than anybody, -and I am very sure <em>he</em> paid the <em>bills</em>.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, Katy,” and Morris started as if he had been stung. -“I would rather have given Linwood than have you thus -indebted to Wilford Cameron, or any other man.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I could not well help it. I did not mean any harm,” -Katy said timidly, explaining how she had shrunk from -<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>the proposition which Mrs. Woodhull thought was right, -urging it until she had consented, and telling how kind -Mr. Cameron was, and how careful not to remind her of -her indebtedness to him, attending to and anticipating -every want as if she had been his sister.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You would like Mr. Cameron, Cousin Morris. He -made me think of you a little, only he is prouder,” and -Katy’s hand moved up Morris’s coat sleeve till it rested -on his shoulder.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Perhaps so,” Morris answered, feeling a growing resentment -towards one who it seemed to him had done him -some great wrong.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Wilford was not to blame, he reflected. He could -not help admiring the bright little Katy—and so conquering -all ungenerous feelings, he turned to her at last, and -said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Did my little Cousin Kitty like Wilford Cameron?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Something in Morris’s voice startled Katy strangely; -her hand came down from his shoulder, and for an instant -there swept over her an emotion similar to what she -had felt when with Wilford Cameron she rambled along -the shores of Lake George, or sat alone with him on the -deck of the steamer which carried them down Lake Champlain. -But Morris had always been her brother, and she -did not guess that she was more to him than a sister, so -she answered frankly at last, “I guess I did like him a -little. I couldn’t help it, Morris. You could not either, -or any one. I believe Mrs. Woodhull was more than half -in love with him herself, and she talked so much of his -family; they must be very grand.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, I know those Camerons,” was Morris’s quiet remark.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What! You don’t know Wilford?” Katy almost -screamed, and Morris replied, “Not Wilford, no; but the -mother and the sisters were in Paris, and I met them -many times.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What were they doing in Paris?” Katy asked, and -Morris replied that he believed the immediate object of -their being there was to obtain the best medical advice -for a little orphan grand-child, a bright, beautiful boy, -to whom some terrible accident had happened in infancy, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>preventing his walking entirely, and making him nearly -helpless. His name was Jamie, Morris said, and as he saw -that Katy was interested, he told her how sweet-tempered -the little fellow was, how patient under suffering, and how -eagerly he listened when Morris, who at one time attended -him, told him of the Saviour and his love for little children.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Did he get well?” Katy asked, her eyes filling with -tears at the picture Morris drew of Jamie Cameron, sitting -all day long in his wheel chair, and trying to comfort -his grand-mother’s distress when the torturing instruments -for straightening his poor back were applied.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, he died one lovely day in October, and they buried -him beneath the bright skies of France,” Morris said, and -then Katy asked about the mother and sisters. “Were -they proud, and did he like them much?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“They were very proud,” Morris said; “but they were -always civil to him,” and Katy, had she been watching, -might have seen a slight flush on his cheek as he told her -of the stately woman, Wilford’s mother, of the haughty -Juno, a beauty and a belle, and lastly of Arabella, whom -the family nicknamed Bluebell, from her excessive fondness -for books, and her contempt for the fashionable life -her mother and sister led.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was evident that neither of the young ladies were -wholly to Morris’s taste, but of the two he preferred Bluebell, -for though imperious and self-willed, she had some -heart, some principle, while Juno had none. This was -Morris’s opinion, and it disturbed little Katy, as was very -perceptible from the nervous tapping of her foot upon the -carpet and the working of her hands.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How would <em>I</em> appear by the side of those ladies?” she -suddenly asked, her countenance changing as Morris replied -that it was almost impossible to think of her as associated -with the Camerons, she was so wholly unlike them -in every respect.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t believe I shocked Wilford so very much,” -Katy rejoined, reproachfully, while again a heavy pain -shot through Morris’s heart, for he saw more and more -how Wilford Cameron was mingled with every thought of -the young girl, who continued: “And if he was satisfied, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>his mother and sisters will be. Any way, I don’t want -you to make me feel how different I am from them.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was tears now on Katy’s face, and casting aside -all selfishness, Morris wound his arm around her, and -smoothing her golden hair, just as he used to do when -she was a child and came to him to be soothed, he said, -very gently,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My poor Kitty, you do like Wilford Cameron; tell me -honestly—is it not so?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, I guess I do,” and Katy’s voice was a half sob. -“I could not help it, either, he was so kind, so—I don’t -know what, only I could not help doing what he bade me. -Why, if he had said, ‘Jump overboard, Katy Lennox,’ I -should have done it, I know—that is, if his eyes had been -upon me, they controlled me so absolutely. Can you imagine -what I mean?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, I understand. There was the same look in Bell -Cameron’s eye, a kind of mesmeric influence which commanded -obedience. They idolize Wilford, and I dare say -he is worthy of their idolatry. One thing at least is in -his favor—the crippled Jamie, for whose opinion I would -give more than all the rest, seemed to worship his Uncle -Will; talking of him continually, and telling how kind -he was, sometimes staying up all night to carry him in his -arms when the pain in his back was more than usually -severe. So there must be a good, kind heart in Wilford -Cameron, and if my Cousin Kitty likes him, as she says -she does, and he likes her as I believe he must, why, I -hope——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Morris Grant could not finish the sentence, for he did -<em>not</em> hope that Wilford Cameron would win the gem he had -so long coveted as his own.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He might give Kitty up because she loved another best. -He was generous enough to do that, but if he did it, she -must never know how much it cost him, and lest he should -betray himself he could not to-night talk with her longer -of Wilford Cameron. It was time too for Kitty to go -home, but she did not seem to remember it until Morris -suggested to her that her mother might be uneasy if she -stayed away much longer, and so they went together across -the fields, the shadows all gone from Katy’s heart, but -<span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>lying so dark and heavy around Morris Grant, who was -glad when he could leave Katy at the farm-house door -and go back alone to the quiet library, where only God -could witness the mighty struggle, it was for him to say, -“Thy will be done.” And while he prayed, Katy, in her -humble bedroom, with her head nestled close to Helen’s -neck, was telling her of Wilford Cameron, who, when they -went down the rapids and she had cried with fear, had put -his arm around her trying to quiet her, and who once again, -on the mountain overlooking Lake George, had held her -hand a moment, while he pointed out a splendid view seen -through the opening trees. And Helen, listening, knew -that Katy’s heart was lost, and that for Wilford Cameron -to deceive her now would be a cruel thing.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER III.<br> <span class='large'>WILFORD CAMERON.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>The day succeeding Katy Lennox’s return to Silverton -was rainy and cold for the season, the storm extending as -far westward as the city of New York, and making Wilford -Cameron shiver as he stepped from the Hudson River -cars into the carriage waiting for him, first greeting pleasantly -the white-gloved driver, who, closing the carriage -door, mounted to his seat and drove his handsome bays in -the direction of No. —— Fifth Avenue. And Wilford, leaning -back among the cushions, thought how pleasant it was -to be home again, feeling glad, as he frequently did, that -the home was in every particular unexceptionable. The -Camerons, he knew, were an old and highly respectable -family, while it was his mother’s pride that, go back as -far as one might, on either side there could not be found -a single blemish, or a member of whom to be ashamed. -On the Cameron side there were millionaires, merchant -princes, bankers, and stockholders, professors and scholars, -while on hers, the Rossiter side, there were LL. D.’s and -D. D.’s, lawyers and clergymen, authors and artists, -beauties and bells, the whole forming an illustrious line of -ancestry, admirably represented and sustained by the present -family of Camerons, occupying the brown-stone front, -corner of —— street and Fifth Avenue, where the handsome -<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>carriage stopped, and a tall figure ran quickly up the -marble steps. There was a soft rustle of silk, an odor -of delicate perfume, and from the luxurious chair before -the fire kindled in the grate, a lady rose and advanced a -step or two towards the parlor door. In another moment -she was kissing the young man bending over her and -saluting her as mother, kissing him quietly, properly, as -the Camerons always kissed. She was very glad to have -Wilford home again, for he was her favorite child; and -brushing the rain-drops from his coat she led him to the -fire, offering him her own easy-chair, and starting herself -in quest of another. But Wilford held her back, and making -her sit down, he drew an ottoman beside her, and then -asked her first how she had been, then where his sisters -were, and if his father had come home—for there was a -father, a quiet, unassuming man, who stayed all day in -Wall street, seldom coming home in time to carve at his -own dinner table, and when he was at home, asking for -nothing except to be left by his fashionable wife and daughters -to himself, free to smoke and doze over his evening -paper in the seclusion of his own reading-room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>As Wilford’s question concerning his sire had been the -last one asked, so it was the last one answered, his mother -parting his dark hair with her jeweled hand, and telling -him first that, with the exception of a cold taken at the -Park on Saturday afternoon, she was in usual health—second, -that Juno was spending a few days in Orange, and -that Bell had gone to pass the night with her particular -friend, Mrs. Meredith, the most bookish woman in New -York.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Your father,” the lady added, “has not yet returned; -but as the dinner is ready I think we will not wait.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She touched a silver bell beside her, and ordering dinner -to be sent up at once, went on to ask her son concerning -his journey and the people he had met. But Wilford, -though intending to tell her all, would wait till after -dinner. So, offering her his arm, he led her out to where -the table was spread, widely different from the table prepared -for Katy Lennox among the Silverton hills, for -where at the farm-house there had been only the homely -wares common to the country, with Aunt Betsy’s onions -<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>served in a bowl, there was here the finest of damask, the -choicest of china, the costliest of cut-glass, and the heaviest -of silver, with the well-trained waiter gliding in and out, -himself the very personification of strict table etiquette, -such as the Barlows had never dreamed about. There was -no fricasseed chicken here, or flaky crust, with pickled -beans and apple-sauce; no custard pie with strawberries and -rich, sweet cream, poured from a blue earthen pitcher; but -there were soups, and fish, and roasted meats, and dishes -with French names and taste, and dessert elaborately gotten -up, and served with the utmost precision, and Mrs. Cameron -presiding over all with lady-like decorum, her soft -glossy silk of brown, with her rich lace and diamond pin -in perfect keeping with herself and her surroundings. -And opposite to her Wilford sat, a tall, dark, handsome -man, of thirty or thereabouts—a man, whose polished -manners betokened at once a perfect knowledge of the -world, and whose face, to a close observer, indicated how -little satisfaction he had as yet found in the world. He -had tried its pleasures, drinking the cup of freedom and -happiness to its very dregs, and though he thought he -liked it, he often found himself dissatisfied and reaching -after something which should make life more real, more -worth the living for. He had traveled all over Europe -twice, had visited every spot worth visiting in his own -country, had been a frequenter of every fashionable resort -in New York, from the skating-pond to the theatres, had -been admitted as a lawyer, had opened an office on Broadway, -acquiring some reputation in his profession, had looked -at more than twenty girls with the view of making them -his wife, and found them, as he believed, alike fickle, selfish, -artificial and hollow-hearted. In short, while thinking far -more of family, and accomplishments, and style, than -he ought, he was yet heartily tired of the butterflies who -flitted so constantly around him, offering to be caught if -he would but stretch out his hand to catch them. This -he would not do, and disgusted with the world as he saw -it in New York, he had gone to the Far West, roaming -awhile amid the solitude of the broad prairies, and finding -there much that was soothing to him, but not discovering -the fulfillment of the great want he was craving until coming -<span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>back to Canandaigua, he met with Katy Lennox. He -had smiled wearily when asked by Mrs. Woodhull to go -with her to the examination then in progress at the Seminary. -There was nothing there to interest him, he -thought, as Euclid and Algebra, French and Rhetoric were -bygone things, while young school-misses, in braided hair -and pantalettes, were shockingly insipid. Still, to be -polite to Mrs. Woodhull, a childless, fashionable woman, -who patronized Canandaigua generally and Katy Lennox -in particular, he consented, and soon found himself in the -crowded room, the cynosure of many eyes as the whisper -ran round that the fine-looking man with Mrs. Woodhull -was Wilford Cameron, from New York, brother to the -proud, dashing Juno Cameron, who once spent a few weeks -in town. Wilford knew they were talking about him, but -he did not care, and assuming as easy an attitude as possible, -he leaned back in his chair, yawning indolently until -the class in Algebra was called, and Katy Lennox came -tripping on the stage, a pale blue ribbon in her golden -hair, and her simple dress of white relieved by no ornament -except the cluster of wild flowers fastened in her belt -and at her throat. But Katy needed no ornaments to make -her more beautiful than she was at the moment when, -with glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes, she first burst -upon Wilford’s vision, a creature of rare, bewitching beauty, -such as he had never dreamed about.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford had met his destiny, and he felt it in every -throb of blood which went rushing through his veins.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Who is she?” he asked of Mrs. Woodhull, and that -lady knew at once whom he meant, even though he had -not designated her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>An old acquaintance of Mrs. Lennox when she lived in -East Bloomfield, Mrs. Woodhull had petted Katy from the -first day of her arrival in Canandaigua with a letter of -introduction to herself from the ambitious mother, and -being rather inclined to match-making, she had had Katy -in her mind when she urged Wilford to accompany her -to the Seminary. Accordingly, she answered him at once, -“That is Katy Lennox, daughter of Judge Lennox, who -died in East Bloomfield a few years ago.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Pretty, is she not?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>Wilford did not answer her. He had neither eye nor -ear for anything save Katy, acquitting herself with a good -deal of credit as she worked out a rather difficult problem, -her dimpled white hand showing to good advantage against -the deep black of the board; and then her voice, soft-toned -and silvery, as a lady’s voice should be, thrilled in -Wilford’s ear, awaking a strange feeling of disquiet, as -if the world would never again be quite the same to him -that it was before he met that fair young girl now passing -from the room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mrs. Woodhull saw that he was interested. It was time -he was settled in life. With the exception of wealth and -family position, he could not find a better wife than Katy, -and she would do what she could to bring the marriage -about. Accordingly, having first gained the preceptress’s -consent, Katy was taken home with her to dinner. And -this was how Wilford Cameron came to know little Katy -Lennox, the simple-hearted child, who blushed so prettily -when first presented to him, and blushed again when he -praised her recitations, but who after that forgot the difference -in their social relations, laughing and chatting as -merrily in his presence as if she had been alone with Mrs. -Woodhull. This was the great charm to Wilford. Katy -was so wholly unconscious of herself or what he might -think of her, that he could not sit in judgment upon her, -and he watched her eagerly as she sported, and flashed, and -sparkled, filling the room with sunshine, and putting to -rout the entire regiment of blues which had been for -months harassing the city-bred young man.</p> - -<p class='c011'>If there was any one thing in which Katy excelled, it -was music, both vocal and instrumental, a taste for which -had been developed very early, and fostered by Morris -Grant, who had seen that his cousin had every advantage -which Silverton could afford. Great pains had been given -to her style of playing while in Canandaigua, so that as -a performer upon the piano she had few rivals in the -seminary, while her bird-like voice filled every nook and -corner of the room, where, on the night after her visit to -Mrs. Woodhull, a select exhibition was held, Katy shining -as the one bright star, and winning golden laurels for -beauty, grace, and perfect self-possession, from others than -Wilford Cameron, who was one of the invited auditors.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>Juno herself could not equal that, he thought, as Katy’s -fingers flew over the keys, executing a brilliant and difficult -piece without a single mistake, and receiving the applause -of the spectators easily, naturally, as if it were an every -day occurrence. But when by request she sang “Comin’ -through the Rye,” Wilford’s heart, if he had any before, -was wholly gone, and he dreamed of Katy Lennox that -night, wondering all the ensuing day how his haughty -mother would receive that young school-girl as her daughter, -wife of the son whose bride she fancied must be equal -to the first lady in the land. And if Katy were not now -equal she could be made so, Wilford thought, wondering -if Canandaigua were the best place for her, and if she -would consent to receive a year or two years’ tuition from -<em>him</em>, provided her family were poor. He did not know -as they were, but he would ask, and he did, feeling a pang -of regret when he heard to some extent how Katy was circumstanced. -Mrs. Woodhull had never been to Silverton, -and so she did not know of Uncle Ephraim, and his old-fashioned -sister; but she knew that they were poor—that -some relation sent Katy to school; and she frankly told -Wilford so, adding, as she detected the shadow on his face, -that one could not expect everything, and that a girl like -Katy was not found every day. Wilford admitted all this, -growing more and more infatuated, until at last he consented -to join the traveling party, provided Katy joined -it too, and when on the morning of their departure for -the Falls he seated himself beside her in the car, he could -not well have been happier, unless she had really been his -wife, as he so much wished she was.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was a most delightful trip, and Wilford was better -satisfied with himself than he had been before in years. -His past life was not all free from error, and there were -many sad memories haunting him, but with Katy at his -side, seeing what he saw, admiring what he admired, and -doing what he bade her do, he gave the bygones to the -wind, feeling only an intense desire to clasp the young -girl in his arms and bear her away to some spot where -with her pure fresh life all his own he could begin the world -anew, and retrieve the past which he had lost. This was -when he was with Katy. Away from her he could remember -<span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>the difference in their position, and prudential motives -began to make themselves heard. Never but once had he -taken an important step without consulting his mother, -and the trouble in which that had involved him warned -him to be more cautious a second time. And this was -why Katy came back to Silverton unengaged, leaving her -heart with Wilford Cameron, who would first seek advice -from his mother ere committing himself by word. He had -seen the white-haired man waiting for her when the train -stopped at Silverton, but standing there as he did, with -his silvery locks parted in the centre, and shading his -honest, open face, Uncle Ephraim looked like some patriarch -of old rather than a man to be despised, and Wilford -felt only respect for him until he saw Katy’s arms wound -so lovingly around his neck as she called him Uncle Eph. -That sight grated harshly, and Wilford felt glad that he -was not bound to her by any pledge. Very curiously he -looked after the couple, witnessing the meeting between -Katy and old Whiting, and guessing rightly that the corn-colored -vehicle was the one sent to transport Katy home. -He was very moody for the remainder of the route between -Silverton and Albany, where he parted with his Canandaigua -friends, they going on to the westward, while he -stopped all night in Albany, where he had some business -to transact for his father.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He was intending to tell his mother everything, except -that he paid Katy’s bills. He would rather keep that to -himself, as it might shock his mother’s sense of propriety -and make her think less of Katy; so after dinner was over, -and they had returned to the parlor, he opened the subject -by asking her to guess what took him off so suddenly with -Mrs. Woodhull.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The mother did not know—unless—and a strange light -gleamed in her eye, as she asked if it were some girl.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, mother, it was,” and without any reservation Wilford -frankly told the story of his interest in Katy Lennox.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He admitted that she was poor and unaccustomed to -society, but he loved her more than words could express.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not as I loved Genevra,” he said, and there came a -look of intense pain into his eyes as he continued. “That -was the passion of a boy of nineteen, stimulated by secrecy, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>but this is the love of a mature man of thirty, who feels -that he is capable of judging for himself.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>In Wilford’s voice there was a tone warning the mother -that opposition would only feed the flame, and so she offered -none directly, but heard him patiently to the end, and then -quietly questioned him of Katy and her family, especially -the last. What did he know of it? Was it one to detract -from the Cameron line, kept untarnished so long? Were -the relatives such as he never need blush to own even if -they came there into their drawing-rooms as they would -come if Katy did?</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford thought of Uncle Ephraim as he had seen him -upon the platform at Silverton, and could scarcely repress -a smile as he pictured to himself his mother’s consternation -at beholding that man in her drawing-room. -But he did not mention the deacon, though he acknowledged -that Katy’s family friends were not exactly the Cameron -style. But Katy was young: Katy could be easily -moulded, and once away from her old associates, his mother -and sisters could make of her what they pleased.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I understand, then, that if you marry her you do not -marry the family,” and in the handsome matronly face -there was an expression from which Katy would have -shrunk, could she have seen it and understood its meaning.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, I do not marry the family,” Wilford rejoined -emphatically, but the expression of his face was different -from his mother’s, for where she thought only of herself, -not hesitating to trample on all Katy’s love of home and -friends, Wilford remembered Katy, thinking how he would -make amends for separating her wholly from her home as -he surely meant to do if he should win her. “Did I tell -you,” he continued, “that her father was a judge? She -must be well connected on that side. And now, what shall -I do?” he asked playfully. “Shall I propose to Katy -Lennox, or shall I try to forget her?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I should not do either,” was Mrs. Cameron’s reply, -for she knew that trying to forget her was the surest way -of keeping her in mind, and she dared not confess to him -how determined she was that Katy Lennox should never -be her daughter if she could prevent it.</p> - -<p class='c011'>If she could not, then as a lady and a woman of policy, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>she should make the most of it, receiving Katy kindly and -doing her best to educate her up to the Cameron ideas -of style and manner.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Let matters take their course for awhile,” she said, -“and see how you feel after a little. We are going to Newport -the first of August, and perhaps you may find somebody -there infinitely superior to this Katy Lennox. That’s -your father’s ring. He is earlier than usual to-night. -I would not tell him yet, till you are more decided,” and -the lady went hastily out into the hall to meet her husband.</p> - -<p class='c011'>A moment more and the elder Cameron appeared—a -short, square-built man, with a face seamed with lines of -care and eyes much like Wilford’s, save that the shaggy -eyebrows gave them a different expression. He was very -glad to see his son, though he merely shook his hand, -asking what nonsense took him off around the Lakes -with Mrs. Woodhull, and wondering if women were never -happy unless they were chasing after fashion. The elder -Cameron was evidently not of his wife’s way of thinking, -but she let him go on until he was through, and then, with -the most unruffled mien, suggested that his dinner would -be cold. He was accustomed to that and so he did not -mind, but he hurried through his lonely meal to-night, for -Wilford was home, and the father was always happier -when he knew his son was in the house. Contrary to his -usual custom, he spent the short summer evening in the -parlor, talking with Wilford on various items of business, -and thus preventing any further conversation concerning -Katy Lennox. It took but a short time for Wilford to -fall back into his old way of living, passing a few hours of -each day in his office, driving with his mother, sparring -with his imperious sister Juno, and teasing his blue sister -Bell, but never after that first night breathing a word to -any one of Katy Lennox. And still Katy was not forgotten, -as his mother sometimes believed. On the contrary, -the very silence he kept concerning her increased his -passion, until he began seriously to contemplate a trip to -Silverton. The family’s removal to Newport, however, -diverted his attention for a little, making him decide to -wait and see what Newport might have in store for him. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>But Newport was dull this season, though Juno and Bell -both found ample scope for their different powers of -attraction, and his mother was always happy when showing -off her children and knowing that they were appreciated, -but with Wilford it was different. Listless and taciturn, -he went through with the daily routine, wondering how -he had ever found happiness there, and finally, at the -close of the season, casting all policy and prudence aside, -he wrote to Katy Lennox that he was coming to Silverton -on his way home, and that he presumed he should have -no difficulty in finding his way to the farm-house.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER IV.<br> <span class='large'>PREPARING FOR THE VISIT.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Katy had waited very anxiously for a letter from -Wilford, and as the weeks went by and nothing came, a -shadow had fallen upon her spirits and the family missed -something from her ringing laugh and frolicsome ways, -while she herself wondered at the change which had come -over everything. Even the light household duties she -used to enjoy so much, were irksome to her and she enjoyed -nothing except going with Uncle Ephraim into the fields -where she could sit alone while he worked nearby, or to -ride with Morris as she sometimes did when he made -his round of calls. She was not as good as she used to be, -she thought, and with a view of making herself better she -took to teaching in Morris and Helen’s Sunday-School, -greatly to the distress of Aunt Betsy, who groaned bitterly -when both her nieces adopted the “Episcopal quirks,” forsaking -entirely the house where, Sunday after Sunday, her -old-fashioned leghorn, with its faded ribbon of green was -seen, bending down in the humble worship which God so -much approves. But teaching in Sunday-school, taken -by itself, could not make Katy better, and the old restlessness -remained until the morning when, sitting on the -grass beneath the apple-tree, she read that Wilford Cameron -was coming; then everything was changed and Katy never -forgot the brightness of that day when the robins sang -so merrily above her head, and all nature seemed to -sympathize with her joy. There was no shadow around -<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>her now, nothing but hopeful sunshine, and with a -bounding step she sought out Helen to tell her the good -news. Helen’s first remark, however, was a chill upon her -spirits.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Wilford Cameron coming here? What will he think -of us, we are so unlike him?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This was the first time Katy had seriously considered -the difference between her surroundings and those of -Wilford Cameron, or how it might affect him. But Aunt -Betsy, who had never dreamed of anything like Wilford’s -home, comforted her, telling her, “if he was any kind of a -chap he wouldn’t be looking round, and if he did, who -cared? She guessed they were as good as he, and as much -thought of by the neighbors.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford’s letter had been delayed so that the morrow -was the day appointed for his coming, and never was -there a busier afternoon at the farm-house than the one -which followed the receipt of the letter. Everything not -spotlessly clean before was made so now, Aunt Betsy, in -her petticoat and short gown, going down upon her knees -to scrub the back door-sill, as if the city guest were expected -to notice that. On Aunt Hannah and Mrs. Lennox devolved -the duty of preparing for the wants of the inner man, -while Helen and Katy bent their energies to beautifying -their home and making the most of their plain furniture.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The “spare bedroom,” kept for company, was only large -enough to admit the high-post bed, a single chair, and -the old-fashioned wash-stand, with the hole in the top -for the bowl, and a drawer beneath for towels; and the -two girls held a consultation as to whether it would not be -better to dispense with the parlor altogether, and give that -room to their visitor. But this was vetoed by Aunt Betsy, -who, having finished the back door-sill, had now come -round to the front, and with her scrubbing-brush in one -hand and her saucer of sand in the other, held forth upon -the foolishness of the girls.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Of course, if they had a beau, they’d want a t’other -room, else where would they do their sparkin’?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>That settled it. The parlor must remain as it was, -Katy said, and Aunt Betsy went on with her scouring, -while Helen and Katy consulted together how to make -<span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>the huge feather bed more like the mattresses to which -Wilford must be accustomed. Helen’s mind being the -more suggestive, solved the problem first, and a large -comfortable was brought from the box in the garret and -folded carefully over the bed, which, thus hardened and -flattened, “seemed like a mattress,” Katy said, for she -tried it, feeling quite well satisfied with the room when it -was finished. And certainly it was not uninviting, with -its strip of bright carpeting upon the floor, its vase of -flowers upon the stand, and its white-fringed curtain -sweeping back from the narrow window.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’d like to sleep here myself,” was Katy’s comment, -while Helen offered no opinion, but followed her sister -into the yard, where they were to sweep the grass and -prune the early September flowers.</p> - -<p class='c011'>This afforded Aunt Betsy a chance to reconnoitre and -criticise, which last she did unsparingly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What have them children been doin’ to that bed? -Put on a quilt, as I’m alive! It would break my back to -lie there, and this <em>Carmon</em> is none of the youngest, -accordin’ to their tell; nigh onto thirty, if not turned. It -will make his bones ache, of course. I am glad I know -better than to treat visitors that way. The comforter -may stay, but I’ll be bound I’ll make it softer!” And -stealing up the stairs, Aunt Betsy brought down a second -feather bed, much lighter than the one already on, but still -large enough to suggest the thought of smothering. This -she had made herself, intending it as a part of Katy’s -“setting out,” should she ever marry; and as things now -seemed tending that way, it was only right, she thought, -that Mr. Carmon, as she called him, should begin to have -the benefit of it. Accordingly <em>two</em> beds, instead of one, -were placed beneath the comfortable, which Aunt Betsy -permitted to remain.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’m mighty feared they’ll find me out,” she said, taking -great pains in the making of her bed, and succeeding -so well that when her task was done there was no -perceptible difference between Helen’s bed and her own, -except that the latter was a few inches higher than the -former, and more nearly resembled a pincushion in shape.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was but little chance for Aunt Betsy to be detected, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>for Helen, supposing the room to be in order, had -dismissed it from her mind, and was training a rose over a -frame, while Katy was on her way to Linwood in quest -of various little things which Mrs. Lennox considered -indispensable to the entertainment of a man like Wilford -Cameron. Morris was out on his piazza, enjoying the -fine prospect he had of the sun shining across the pond, -on the Silverton hill, and just gilding the top of the little -church nestled in the valley. At sight of Katy he rose -and greeted her with the kind, brotherly manner now -habitual with him, for he had learned to listen quite -calmly while Katy talked to him, as she often did, of -Wilford Cameron, never trying to conceal from him how -anxious she was for some word of remembrance, and often -asking if he thought Mr. Cameron would ever write to her. -It was hard at first for Morris to listen, and harder still -to keep back the passionate words of love trembling on his -lips—to refrain from asking her to take him in Cameron’s -stead—him who had loved her so long. But Morris had -kept silence, and as the weeks went by there came insensibly -into his heart a hope, or rather conviction, that Wilford -Cameron had forgotten the little girl who might in time -turn to him, gladdening his home just as she did every -spot where her fairy footsteps trod. Morris did not fully -know that he was hugging this fond dream until he felt -the keen pang which cut like a dissector’s knife as Katy, -turning her bright, eager face up to him, whispered softly, -“He’s coming to-morrow—he surely is; I have his letter -to tell me so.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Morris could not see the sunshine upon the distant -hills, although it lay there just as purple and warm as it -had a moment before. There was an instant of darkness, -in which the hills, the pond, the sun-setting, and Katy -seemed a great way off to Morris, trying so hard to be -calm, and mentally asking for help to do so. But Katy’s -hat, which she swung in her hand, had become entangled -in the vines encircling one of the pillars of the piazza, -and so she did not notice him until all traces of his agitation -were past, and he could talk with her concerning -Wilford; then playfully lifting her basket he asked what -she had come to get.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>This was not the first time the great house had rendered -a like service to the little house, and so Katy did -not blush when she explained that her mother wanted -Morris’s forks, and salt-cellars, and spoons, and would he -be kind enough to bring the caster over himself, and -come to dinner to-morrow at two o’clock, and would he -go for Mr. Cameron? The forks, and salt-cellars, and -spoons, and caster were cheerfully promised, while Morris -consented to go for the guest; and then Katy came to -the rest of her errand, the part distasteful to her, inasmuch -as it concerned Uncle Ephraim—honest, unsophisticated -Uncle Ephraim, <em>who would come to the table in his -shirt sleeves</em>! This was the burden of her grief—the -one thing she dreaded most, because she knew how such -an act was looked upon by Mr. Cameron who, never -having lived in the country a day in his life, except as he -was either guest or traveler, could not make due allowance -for these little departures from refinement, so obnoxious -to people of his training.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What is it, Katy?” Morris asked, as he saw how she -hesitated, and guessed her errand was not all told.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I hope you will not think me foolish or wicked,” -Katy began, her eyes filling with tears, as she felt that -she might be doing Uncle Ephraim a wrong by admitting -that in any way he could be improved. “I certainly love -Uncle Ephraim dearly, and <em>I</em> do not mind his ways, but—but—Mr. -Cameron may—that is, oh, Cousin Morris, -<em>did</em> you ever notice how Uncle Ephraim will persist in -coming to the table in his shirt sleeves?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“<em>Persist</em> is hardly the word to use,” Morris replied, -smiling comically, as he readily understood Katy’s misgivings. -“Persist would imply his having been often -remonstrated with for that breach of etiquette; whereas -I doubt whether the idea that it was not in strict accordance -with politeness was ever suggested to him.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Maybe not,” Katy answered. “It was never necessary -till now, and I feel so disturbed, for I want Mr. Cameron -to like him, and if he does that I am sure he won’t.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why do you think so?” Morris asked, and Katy replied, -“He is so particular, and was so very angry at a -little hotel between Lakes George and Champlain, where -<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>we took our dinner before going on the boat. There was -a man along—a real good-natured man, too, so kind to -everybody—and, as the day was warm, he carried his coat -on his arm, and sat down to the table right opposite me. -Mr. Cameron was <em>so</em> indignant, and said such harsh things, -which the man heard I am sure, for he put on his coat -directly, and I saw him afterward on the boat, sweating -like rain, and looking so sorry, as if he had been guilty -of something wrong. I am sure, though, he had not?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This last was spoken interrogatively, and Morris replied: -“There is nothing wrong or wicked in going without -one’s coat. Everything depends upon the circumstances -under which it is done. For <em>me</em> to appear at table in -my shirt sleeves would be very rude, but for an old man -like Uncle Ephraim to do so is a very different thing. -Still, Mr. Cameron may see from another standpoint. -But I would not distress myself. That love is not worth -much which would think the less of you for anything <i><span lang="fr">outré</span></i> -which Uncle Ephraim may do. If Mr. Cameron cannot -stand the test of seeing your relatives as they are, he -is not worth the long face you are wearing,” and Morris -pinched her cheek playfully.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, I know,” Katy replied, “but if you only could -manage Uncle Eph, I should be so glad.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Morris had little hope of breaking a habit of years, but -he promised to try if an opportunity should occur, and -as Mrs. Hull, the housekeeper, had by this time gathered -up the articles required for the morrow, Morris took the -basket in his own hands and went with Katy across the -fields.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“God bless you, Katy, and may Mr. Cameron’s visit -bring you as much happiness as you anticipate,” he said, -as he set her basket upon the doorstep and turned back -without entering the house.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy noticed the peculiar tone of his voice, and again -there swept over her the same thrill she had felt when -Morris first said to her, “And did Katy like this Mr. -Cameron?” but so far was she from guessing the truth -that she only feared she might have displeased him by -what she had said of Uncle Ephraim. Perhaps she <em>had</em> -wronged him, she thought, and the good old man, resting -<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>from his hard day’s toil, in his accustomed chair, with -not only his coat, but his vest and boots cast aside, little -guessed what prompted the caresses which Katy lavished -upon him, sitting in his lap and parting his snowy hair, -as if thus she would make amends for any injury done. -Little Katy-did he called her, looking fondly into her -bright, pretty face, and thinking how terrible it would be -to see that face shadowed with pain and care. Somehow, -of late, Uncle Ephraim was always thinking of such a -calamity as more than possible for Katy, and when that -night she knelt beside him, his voice was full of pleading -earnestness as he prayed that God would keep them all -in safety, and bring to none of them more grief or pain -than was necessary to fit them for himself. And Katy, -listening to him, remembered the talk down in the meadow, -when she sat on the rock beneath the butternut tree. But -the world, while it held Wilford Cameron, as he seemed -to her now, was too full of joy for her to dread what the -future might have in store for her, and so she arose from -her knees, thinking only how long it would be before to-morrow -noon, wondering if Wilford would surely be there -next time their evening prayers were said, and if he would -notice Uncle Ephraim’s shocking grammar!</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER V.<br> <span class='large'>WILFORD’S VISIT.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Wilford had made the last change of cars, and when -he stopped again it would be at Silverton. He did not -expect any one to meet him, but as he remembered the man -whom he had seen greeting Katy, he thought it not -unlikely that he might be there now, laughing to himself -as he pictured his mother’s horror, could she see him riding -along in the corn-colored vehicle which Uncle Ephraim -drove. But that vehicle was safe at home beneath the -shed, while Uncle Ephraim was laying a stone wall upon -the huckleberry hill, and the handsome carriage waiting -at Silverton depot was certainly unexceptionable; while in -the young man who, as the train stopped and Wilford -stepped out upon the platform, came to meet him, asking -if he were Mr. Cameron, Wilford recognized the true -<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>gentleman, and his spirits rose at once as Morris said to -him, “I am Miss Lennox’s cousin, deputed by her to take -charge of you for a time.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford had heard of Dr. Morris Grant and of his -kindness to poor little Jamie, who died in Paris; he had -heard too that his proud sister Juno had tried her powers -of coquetry in vain upon the grave American; but he -had no suspicion that his new acquaintance was the one -until Morris mentioned having met his family in France -and inquired after their welfare.</p> - -<p class='c011'>After that the conversation became very familiar, and -the ride seemed so short that Wilford was surprised when, -as they turned a corner in the sandy road, Morris pointed -to the farm-house, saying: “We are almost there—that -is the place.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“<em>That!</em>” and Wilford’s voice indicated his disappointment, -for in all his mental pictures of Katy Lennox’s -home he had never imagined anything like this.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Large, rambling and weird-like, with something lofty -and imposing, just because it was so ancient, was the -house he had in his mind, and he could not conceal his -chagrin as his eye took in the small, low building, with -its high windows and tiny panes of glass, paintless and -blindless, standing there alone among the hills. Morris -understood it perfectly; but without seeming to notice it, -remarked, “It is the oldest house probably in the country, -and should be invaluable on that account. I think we -Americans are too fond of change and too much inclined -to throw aside all that reminds us of the past. Now I -like the farm-house just because it is old and unpretentious.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, certainly,” Wilford answered, looking ruefully -around him at the stone wall, half tumbled down, the -tall well-sweep, and the patch of sun-flowers in the garden, -with Aunt Betsy bending behind them, picking tomatoes -for dinner, and shading her eyes with her hand -to look at him as he drove up.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was all very rural, no doubt, and very charming to -people who liked it, but Wilford did <em>not</em> like it, and he -was wishing himself safely in New York when a golden -head flashed for an instant before the window and then -<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>disappeared as Katy emerged into view, waiting at the -door to receive him and looking so sweetly in her dress of -white with the scarlet geranium blossoms in her hair that -Wilford forgot the homeliness of the surroundings, thinking -only of her and how soft and warm was the little hand -he held as she led him into the parlor. He did not know -she was so beautiful, he said to himself, and he feasted his -eyes upon her, forgetful for a time of all else. But afterwards, -when Katy left him for a moment, he had time to -observe the well-worn carpet, the six cane-seated chairs, -large stuffed rocking-chair, the fall-leaf table, with its -plain wool spread, and lastly the really expensive piano, -the only handsome piece of furniture the room contained, -and which he rightly guessed must have come from -Morris.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What <em>would</em> Juno or Mark say?” he kept repeating -to himself half shuddering as he recalled the bantering -proposition to accompany him made by Mark Ray, the -only young man whom he considered fully his equal in -New York.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford knew these feelings were unworthy of him, -and he tried to shake them off, listlessly turning over the -books upon the table—books which betokened in someone -both taste and talent of no low order.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mark’s favorite,” he said, lifting up a volume of Schiller; -and turning to the fly-leaf he read, “Helen Lennox, -from Cousin Morris,” just as Katy returned with her -sister, whom she presented to the stranger.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Helen was prepared to like him because Katy did, and -her first thought was that he was very fine looking; but -when she met his cold, proud eyes, and knew how closely -he was scrutinizing her, there arose in her heart a feeling -of dislike which she could never wholly conquer. He was -very polite to her, but something in his manner annoyed -and irritated her, it was so cool, so condescending, as -if he endured her merely because she was Katy’s sister, -nothing more.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Rather pretty, more character than Katy, but odd and -self-willed, with no kind of style,” was Wilford’s running -comment on Helen as he took her in from the plain arrangement -of her dark hair to the fit of her French calico and -the cut of her linen collar.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>Fashionable dress would improve her very much, he -thought, turning with a feeling of relief to Katy, whom -nothing could disfigure, and who was now watching the -door eagerly for the entrance of her mother. That lady -had spent a good deal of time at her toilet, and she came -in at last, flurried, fidgety, and very red, both from exercise -and the bright-hued ribbons streaming from her cap and -sadly at variance with the color of the dress. Wilford -noticed the discrepancy at once, and noticed too how little -style there was about the nervous woman greeting him so -deferentially, and evidently regarding him as something -infinitely superior to herself. Wilford had looked with -indifference on Helen, but it would take a stronger word -to express his opinion of the mother. Morris, who remained -to dinner, was in the parlor now, and in his -presence Wilford felt more at ease, more as if he had found -an affinity. Uncle Ephraim was not there, having eaten -his bowl of milk and gone back to his stone wall, so that -upon Morris devolved the duties of host, and he courteously -led the way to the little dining-room, where the table -was loaded with the good things Aunt Hannah had prepared, -burning and browning her wrinkled face, which -nevertheless smiled pleasantly upon the stranger presented -as Mr. Cameron.</p> - -<p class='c011'>About Aunt Hannah there was something naturally lady-like, and Wilford recognized it at once; but when it came -to Aunt Betsy, of whom he had never heard, he felt for a -moment as if by being there in such promiscuous company -he had somehow fallen from the Camerons’ high -estate. By way of pleasing the girls and doing honor to -their guest, Aunt Betsy had donned her very best attire, -wearing the slate-colored pongee dress, bought twenty -years before, and actually sporting a set of Helen’s cast-off -hoops, which being too large for the dimensions of her -scanty skirt, gave her anything but the graceful appearance -she intended.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, auntie!” was Katy’s involuntary exclamation, -while Helen bit her lip with vexation, for the <em>hoop</em> had -been an afterthought to Aunt Betsy just before going in -to dinner.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But the good old lady never dreamed of shocking anyone -<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>with her attempts at fashion; and curtsying very low -to Mr. Cameron, she hoped for a better acquaintance, and -then took her seat at the table, just where each movement -could be distinctly seen by Wilford, scanning her so intently -as scarcely to hear the reverent words with which -Morris asked a blessing upon themselves and the food so -abundantly prepared. They could hardly have gotten -through that first dinner without Morris, who adroitly led -the conversation into channels which he knew would interest -Mr. Cameron, and divert his mind from what was -passing around him, and so the dinner proceeded quietly -enough, Wilford discovering, ere its close, that Mrs. Lennox -had really some pretensions to a lady, while Helen’s -dress and collar ceased to be obnoxious, as he watched the -play of her fine features and saw her eyes kindle as she -took a modest part in the conversation when it turned on -books and literature.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Meanwhile Katy kept very silent, but when, after dinner -was over and Morris was gone, she went with Wilford -down to the shore of the pond, her tongue was loosed, and -he found again the little fairy who had so bewitched him -a few weeks before. And yet there was a load upon his -heart, a shadow upon his brow, for he knew now that -between Katy’s family and his there was a social gulf -which never could be crossed by either party. He might -bear Katy over, it was true, but would she not look longingly -back to her humble home, and might he not sometimes -be greatly chagrined by the sudden appearing of -some one of this low-bred family who did not seem to -realize how ignorant they were, or how far below him in -the social scale? Poor Wilford! he winced and shivered -when he thought of Aunt Betsy, in her antiquated pongee, -and remembered that she was a near relative of the little -maiden sporting so playfully around him, stealing his heart -away in spite of his family pride, and making him more -deeply in love than ever. It was very pleasant down by the -pond, and Wilford kept Katy there until the sun was -going down and they heard in the distance the tinkle of -a bell as the deacon’s cows plodded slowly homeward. -Supper was waiting for them, and with his appetite sharpened -by his walk, Wilford found no cause of complaint -<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>against Aunt Hannah’s viands, though he smiled mentally -as he accepted the piece of apple pie Aunt Betsy offered -him, saying, by way of recommendation, that “she made -the crust but <em>Catherine</em> peeled and sliced the apples.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The deacon had not returned from his work, and Wilford -did not see him until he came suddenly upon him, -seated in the wood-shed door, resting after the labor of -the day. “The young man was welcome to Silverton,” -he said, “but he must excuse him from visitin’ much that -night, for the cows was to milk and the chores to do, as -he never kep’ no boy.” The “chores” were done at last, -just as the clock pointed to half-past eight, the hour for -family worship. Unaccustomed as Wilford was to such -things, he felt the influence of the deacon’s voice as he -read from the word of God, and involuntarily found himself -kneeling when Katy knelt, noticing the deacon’s grammar -it is true, but still listening patiently to the lengthy -prayer, which included him together with the rest of mankind.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was no chance of seeing Katy alone, that night, -and so full two hours before his usual custom Wilford retired -to the little room to which the deacon conducted him, -saying, as he put down the lamp, “You’ll find it pretty -snug quarters, I guess, for such a close, muggy night as -this.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And truly they were snug quarters, Wilford thought, -as he surveyed the dimensions of the room; but there was -no alternative, and a few moments found him in the centre -of the two feather beds, neither Helen nor Katy having -discovered the addition made by Aunt Betsy, and which -came near being the death of the New York guest. To -sleep was impossible, and never for a moment did Wilford -lose his consciousness or forget to accuse himself of being -an idiot for coming into that heathenish neighborhood -after a wife when in New York there were so many girls -ready and waiting for him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ll go back to-morrow morning,” he said, striking a -match he consulted his Railway Guide to find when the first -train passed Silverton, feeling comforted to know that only -a few hours intervened between him and freedom.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But alas for Wilford! He was but a man, subject to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>man’s caprices, and when next morning he met Katy Lennox, -looking in her light muslin as pure and fair as the -white blossoms twined in her wavy hair, his resolution -began to waver. Perhaps there was a decent hotel in Silverton; -he would inquire of Dr. Grant; at all events he would -not take the first train, though he might the next; and so -he stayed, eating fried apples and beefsteak, but forgetting -to criticise, in his appreciation of the rich thick cream -poured into his coffee, and the sweet, golden butter, which -melted in soft waves upon the flaky rolls. Again Uncle -Ephraim was absent, having gone to mill before Wilford -left his room, nor was he visible to the young man until -after dinner, for Wilford did not go home, but drove instead -with Katy in the carriage which Morris sent round, -excusing himself from coming on the plea of being too -busy, but saying he would join them at tea, if possible. -Wilford’s mind was not yet fully made up, so he concluded -to remain another day and see more of Katy’s family. -Accordingly, after dinner, he bent his energies to cultivating -them all, from Helen down to Aunt Betsy, who -proved the most transparent of the four. Arrayed again in -the pongee, but this time without the hoop, she came into -the parlor, bringing her calico patch-work, which she informed -him was pieced in the “herrin’ bone pattern” and -intended for Katy; telling him further, that the feather bed -on which he slept was also a part of “Catherine’s setting -out,” and was made from feathers she picked herself, showing -him as proof a mark upon her arm, left there by the -gray goose, which had proved a little refractory when she -tried to draw a stocking over its head.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford groaned and Katy’s chance for being Mrs. Cameron -was growing constantly less and less as he saw more -and more how vast was the difference between the Barlows -and himself. Helen, he acknowledged, was passable, -though she was not one whom he could ever introduce into -New York society; and he was wondering how Katy -chanced to be so unlike the rest, when Uncle Ephraim came -up from the meadow, and announced himself as ready now -to <em>visit</em>, apologizing for his apparent neglect, and seeming -so absolutely to believe that his company was desirable, -that Wilford felt amused, wondering again what Juno, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>or even Mark Ray, would think of the rough old man, -sitting with his chair tipped back against the wall, and -going occasionally to the door to relieve himself of his tobacco -juice, for chewing was one of the deacon’s weaknesses. -His pants were faultlessly clean, and his vest was -buttoned nearly up to his throat, but his coat was hanging -on a nail out by the kitchen door, and, to Katy’s distress -and Wilford’s horror, he sat among them in his shirt -sleeves, all unconscious of harm or of the disquiet awakened -in the bosom of the young man, who on that point was -foolishly fastidious, and who showed by his face how much -he was annoyed. Not even the presence of Morris, who -came about tea time, was of any avail to lift the cloud -from his brow, and he seemed moody and silent until -supper was announced. This was the first opportunity -Morris had had of trying his powers of persuasion upon the -deacon, and now, at a hint from Katy, he said to him in -an aside, as they were passing into the dining-room: “Suppose, -Uncle Ephraim, you put on your coat for once. It -is better than coming to the table so.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Pooh,” was Uncle Ephraim’s innocent rejoinder, spoken -loudly enough for Wilford to hear, “I shan’t catch cold, -for I am used to it; besides that, I never could stand the -racket this hot weather.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>In his simplicity he did not even suspect Morris’s motive, -but imputed it wholly to concern for his health. And -so Wilford Cameron found himself seated next to a man -who wilfully trampled upon all rules of etiquette, shocking -him in his most sensitive points, and making him thoroughly -disgusted with the country and country people -generally. All but Morris and Katy—he <em>did</em> make an exception -in their favor, leaning most to Morris, whom he -admired more and more, as he became better acquainted -with him, wondering how he could content himself to settle -down quietly in Silverton, when he would surely die if -compelled to live there for a week. Something like this he -said to Dr. Grant, when that evening they sat together in -the handsome parlor at Linwood, for Morris kindly invited -him to spend the night with him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I stay in Silverton, first, because I think I can do more -good here than elsewhere, and secondly, because I really -<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>like the country and the country people; for, strange and -uncouth as they may seem to you, who never lived among -them, they have kinder, truer hearts beating beneath their -rough exteriors, than are often in the city.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This was Morris’s reply, and in the conversation which -ensued Wilford Cameron caught glimpses of a nobler, -higher phase of manhood than he had thought existed, -feeling an unbounded respect for one who, because he believed -it to be his duty, was, as it seemed to him, wasting -his life among people who could not appreciate his character, -though they might idolize the man. But this did -not reconcile Wilford one whit the more to Silverton. -Uncle Ephraim had completed the work commenced by -the two feather beds, and at breakfast, next morning, he -announced his intention of returning to New York that -day. To this Morris offered no objection, but asked to be -remembered to the mother and sisters, and then invited -Wilford to stop altogether at Linwood when he came again -to Silverton.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Thank you; but it is hardly probable that I shall be -here very soon,” Wilford replied, adding, as he met the -peculiar glance of Morris’s eye, “I found Miss Katy a -delightful traveling acquaintance, and on my way from -Newport thought I would renew it and see a little of -rustic life.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Poor Katy! how her heart would have ached could she -have heard those words and understood their meaning, -just as Morris did, feeling a rising indignation for the -man with whom he could not be absolutely angry, he was -so self-possessed, so pleasant and gentlemanly, while better -than all, was he not virtually giving Katy up? and -if he did might she not turn at last to him?</p> - -<p class='c011'>These were Morris’s thoughts as he walked with Wilford -across the fields to the farm-house, where Katy met them -with her sunniest smile, singing to them, at Wilford’s request, -her sweetest song, and making him half wish he -could revoke his hasty decision and tarry a little longer. -But it was now too late for that, the carriage which would -take him to the depot was already on its way from Linwood; -and when the song was ended he told her of his -intentions to leave on the next train, feeling a pang when -<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>he saw how the blood left her cheek and lip, and then came -surging back as she said timidly, “Why need you leave -so soon?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have already outstayed my time. I thought of going -yesterday, and my partner, Mr. Ray, will be expecting me,” -Wilford replied, laying his hand upon Katy’s hair, while -Morris and Helen stole quietly from the room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Thus left to himself, Wilford continued, “Maybe I’ll -come again sometime. Would you like to have me?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” and Katy’s blue eyes were lifted pleadingly to -the young man, who had never loved her so well as at -that very moment when resolving to cast her off.</p> - -<p class='c011'>For a moment Wilford was strongly tempted to throw -all pride aside, and ask that young girl to be his; but -thoughts of his mother, of Juno and Bell, and more than -all, thoughts of Uncle Ephraim and his sister Betsy, arose -in time to prevent it, and so he only kissed her forehead -caressingly as he said good-bye, telling her that he should -not soon forget his visit to Silverton, and then, as the -carriage drove up, going out to where the remainder of the -family were standing together and commenting upon his -sudden departure.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was not sudden, he said, trying to explain. He -really had thought seriously of going yesterday, and feeling -that he had something to atone for, he tried to be unusually -gracious as he shook their hands, thanking them -for their kindness, but seeming wholly oblivious to Aunt -Betsy’s remark that “she hoped to see him again, if not -at Silverton, in New York, where she wanted dreadfully -to visit, but never had on account of the ’bominable prices -charged to the taverns, and she hadn’t no acquaintances -there.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This was Aunt Betsy’s parting remark, and, after Katy, -Aunt Betsy liked Wilford Cameron better than any one -of the group which watched him as he drove from their -door. Aunt Hannah thought him too much stuck up for -farmers’ folks; Mrs. Lennox, whose ambition would have -accounted him a most desirable match for her daughter, -could not deny that his manner towards them, though -polite in the extreme, was that of a superior to people -greatly beneath him; while Helen, who saw clearer than -<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>the rest, read him aright, and detected the struggle between -his pride and his love for poor little Katy, whom she -found sitting on the floor, just where Wilford left her -standing, her head resting on the chair and her face hidden -in her hands as she sobbed quietly, hardly knowing why -she cried or what to answer when Helen asked what was -the matter.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It was so queer in him to go so soon,” she said; “just -as if he were offended about something.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Never mind, Katy,” Helen said, soothingly. “If he -cares for you he will come back again. He could not -stay here always, of course; and I must say I respect -him for attending to his business, if he has any. He has -been gone from home for weeks, you know.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This was Helen’s reasoning; but it did not comfort -Katy, whose face looked white and sad, as she moved listlessly -about the house, almost crying again when she heard -in the distance the whistle of the train which was to carry -Wilford Cameron away and end his first visit to Silverton.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER VI.<br> <span class='large'>IN THE SPRING.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Katy Lennox had been very sick, and the bed where -Wilford slept had stood in the parlor during the long -weeks while the obstinate fever ran its course; but she was -better now, and sat nearly all day before the fire, sometimes -trying to crochet a little, and again turning over -the books which Morris had bought to interest her—Morris, -the kind physician, who had attended her so faithfully, -never leaving her while the fever was at its height, unless -it was necessary, but staying with her day and night, -watching her symptoms carefully, and praying so earnestly -that she might not die, not, at least, until some token had -been given that again in the better world he should find -her, where partings were unknown and where no Wilford -Camerons could contest the prize with him. Not that he -was greatly afraid of Wilford now; that fear had mostly -died away just as the hope had died from Katy’s heart that -she would ever meet him again.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Since the September morning when he left her, she had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>not heard from him except once, when in the winter Morris -had been to New York, and having a few hours’ leisure -on his hands had called at Wilford’s office, receiving a most -cordial reception, and meeting with Mark Ray, who impressed -him as a man quite as highly cultivated as Wilford, -and possessed of more character and principle. This -call was not altogether of Morris’s seeking, but was made -rather with a view to pleasing Katy, who, when she learned -that he was going to New York, had said inadvertently, -“Oh, I do so hope you’ll meet with Mr. Cameron, for then -we shall know that he is neither sick nor dead, as I have -sometimes feared.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And so Morris had sought his rival, feeling repaid for -the effort it had cost him, when he saw how glad Wilford -seemed to meet him. The first commonplaces over, Wilford -inquired for Katy. Was she well, and how was she -occupying her time this winter?</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Both Helen and Katy are pupils of mine,” Morris replied, -“reciting their lessons to me every day when the -weather will admit of their crossing the fields to Linwood. -We have often wondered what had become of you, that -you did not even let us know of your safe arrival home,” -he added, looking Wilford fully in the eye, and rather -enjoying his confusion as he tried to apologize.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He had intended writing, but an unusual amount of -business had occupied his time. “Mark will tell you how -busy I was,” and he turned appealingly to his partner, in -whose expressive eyes Morris read that Silverton was not -unknown to him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But if Wilford had told him anything derogatory of -the farm-house or its inmates, it did not appear in Mr. -Ray’s manner, as he replied that Mr. Cameron had been -very busy ever since his return from Silverton, adding, -“From what Cameron tells me of your neighborhood, there -must be some splendid hunting and fishing there, and I -had last fall half a mind to try it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This time there was something comical in the eyes turned -so mischievously upon Wilford, who colored scarlet for an -instant, but soon recovered his composure, and invited -Morris home with him to dinner.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I shall not take a refusal,” he said, as Morris began -<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>to decline. “Mother and the young ladies will be delighted -to see you again. Mark will go with us, of course.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was something so hearty in Wilford’s invitation -that Morris did not again object, and two hours later -found him in the drawing-room at No.—— Fifth Avenue, -receiving the friendly greetings of Mrs. Cameron and her -daughters, each of whom vied with the other in their polite -attentions to him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Morris did not regret having accepted Wilford’s invitation -to dinner, as by this means he saw the home which -had well nigh been little Katy Lennox’s. She would be -sadly out of place here with these people, he thought, and -he looked upon all their formality and ceremony, and -then contrasted it with what Katy had been accustomed -to. Juno would kill her outright, was his next mental -comment, as he watched that haughty young lady, dividing -her coquetries between himself and Mr. Ray, who being -every way desirable, both in point of family and wealth, -was evidently her favorite. She had colored scarlet when -first presented to Dr. Grant, and her voice had trembled -as she took his offered hand, for she remembered the time -when her liking had not been concealed, and was only -withdrawn at the last because she found how useless it -was to waste her affections upon one who did not prize -them.</p> - -<p class='c011'>When Wilford first returned from Silverton he had, as -a sure means of forgetting Katy, told his mother and -sister something of the farm-house and its inmates; and -Juno, while ridiculing both Helen and Katy, had felt a -fierce pang of jealousy in knowing they were cousins to -Morris Grant, who lived so near that he could, if he liked, -see them every day. In Paris Juno had suspected that -somebody was standing between her and Dr. Grant, and -with the quick insight of a smart, bright woman, she -guessed that it was one of these cousins—Katy most likely, -her brother having described Helen as very commonplace,—and -for a time she had hated poor, innocent Katy most -cordially for having come between her and the only man for -whom she had ever really cared. Gradually, however, the -feeling died away, but was revived again at sight of Morris -Grant, and at the table she could not forbear saying to -him,</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>“By the way, Dr. Grant, why did you never tell us of -those charming cousins, when you were in Paris? Brother -Will describes one of them as a little water lily, she is so -fair and pretty. Katy, I think, is her name. Wilford, -isn’t it Katy Lennox whom you think so beautiful, and -with whom you are more than half in love?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, it <em>is</em> Katy,” and Wilford spoke sternly, for he -did not like Juno’s bantering tone, but he could not stop -her, and she went on,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Are they your own cousins, Dr. Grant?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, they are removed from me two or three degrees, -their father having been only my second cousin.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The fact that Katy Lennox was not nearly enough related -to Dr. Grant to prevent his marrying her if he liked, -did not improve Juno’s amiability, and she continued to -ask questions concerning both Katy and Helen, the latter -of whom she persisted in thinking was strong-minded, -until Mark Ray came to the rescue, diverting her attention -by adroitly complimenting her in some way, and so relieving -Wilford and Morris, both of whom were exceedingly -annoyed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“When Will visits Silverton again I mean to go with -him,” she said to Morris at parting, but he did not tell her -that such an event would give him the greatest pleasure. -On the contrary, he merely replied,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If you do you will find plenty of room at Linwood -for those four trunks which I remember seeing in Paris, -and your brother will tell you whether I am a hospitable -host or not.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Biting her lip with chagrin, Juno went back to the -drawing-room, while Morris returned to his hotel, accompanied -by Wilford, who passed the entire evening with -him, appearing somewhat constrained, as if there was something -on his mind which he wished to say; but it remained -unspoken, and there was no allusion to Silverton until, as -Wilford was leaving, he said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Remember me kindly to the Silverton friends, and say -I have not forgotten them.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And this was all there was to carry back to Katy, who -on the afternoon of Morris’s return from New York was at -Linwood, waiting to pour his tea and make his toast, she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>pretended, though the real reason was shining all over her -tell-tale face, which grew so bright and eager when Morris -said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I dined at Mr. Cameron’s, Kitty.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But the brightness gradually faded as Morris described -his call and then repeated Wilford’s message.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And that was all,” Katy whispered sorrowfully as she -beat the damask cloth softly with her fingers, shutting her -lips tightly together to keep back her disappointment.</p> - -<p class='c011'>When Morris glanced at her again there was a tear on -her long eyelashes, and it dropped upon her cheek, followed -by another and another, but he did not seem to see -it, and talked of New York and the fine sights in Broadway -until Katy was able to take part in the conversation.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Please don’t tell <em>Helen</em> that you saw Wilford,” she -said to Morris as he walked home with her after tea, and -that was the only allusion she made to it, never after that -mentioning Wilford’s name or giving any token of the love -still so strong within her heart, and waiting only for some -slight token to waken it again to life and vigor.</p> - -<p class='c011'>This was in the winter, and Katy had been very sick -since then, while Morris had come to believe that Wilford -was forgotten, and when, as she grew stronger, he saw -how her eyes sparkled at his coming, and how impatient -she seemed if he was obliged to hurry off, hope whispered -that she would surely be his, and his usually grave face -wore a look of happiness which his patients noticed, feeling -themselves better after one of his cheery visits. Poor -Morris! he was little prepared for the terrible blow in store -for him, when one day early in April he started, as usual, -to visit Katy, saying to himself, “If I find her alone, perhaps -I’ll ask if she will come to Linwood this summer;” -and Morris paused a moment beneath a beechwood tree to -still the throbbings of his heart, which beat so fast as he -thought of going home from his weary work and finding -Kate there, his little wife—whom he might caress and -love all his affectionate nature would prompt him to. He -knew that in some points she was weak, but then she was -very young, and there was about her so much of purity, -innocence, and perfect beauty, that few men, however -strong their intellect, could withstand her, and Morris felt -<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>that in possessing her he should have all he needed to make -this life desirable. She would improve as she grew older, -and it would be a most delightful task to train her into -what she was capable of becoming. Alas for Dr. Morris! -He was very near the farm-house now, and there were -only a few minutes between him and the cloud which would -darken his horizon so completely. Katy was alone, sitting -up in her pretty dressing gown of blue, which was so -becoming to her pure complexion. Her hair, which had -been all cut away during her long sickness, was growing -out again somewhat darker than before, and lay in rings -upon her head, making her look more childish than ever. -But to this Morris did not object. He liked to have her a -child, and he thought he had never seen her so beautiful -as she was this morning, when, with glowing cheek and -dancing eyes, she greeted him as he came in.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, Dr. Morris!” she began, holding up a letter she -had in her hand, “I am so glad you’ve come! Wilford -has not forgotten me. He has written, and he is coming -again, if I will let him; I <em>am</em> so glad! Ain’t you? Seeing -you knew all about it, and never told Helen, I’ll let you -read the letter.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And she held it toward the young man leaning against -the mantel and panting for the breath which came so -heavily.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Something he said apologetically about being <em>snow blind</em>, -for there was that day quite a fall of soft spring snow; -and then, with a mighty effort which made his heart -quiver with pain, Morris was himself once more, and took -the letter in his hand.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Perhaps I ought not to read it,” he said, but Katy -insisted, and thinking to himself, “It will cure me sooner -perhaps,” he read the few lines Wilford Cameron had -written to his “dear little Katy.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>That was the way he addressed her, going on to say -that circumstances which he could not explain to her had -kept him silent ever since he left her the previous autumn; -but through all he never for a moment had forgotten her, -thinking of her the more for the silence he had maintained. -“And now that I have risen above the circumstances,” he -added, in conclusion, “I write to ask if I may come to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>Silverton again? If I may, just drop me one word, -‘come,’ and in less than a week I shall be there. Yours -very truly, W. Cameron.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Morris read the letter through, feeling that every word -was separating him further and further from Katy, to -whom he said, “You will answer this?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, oh yes; perhaps to-day.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And you will tell him to come?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why,—what else should I tell him?” and Katy’s blue -eyes looked wonderingly at Morris, who hardly knew what -he was doing, or why he said to her next, “Listen to -me, Katy. You know why Wilford Cameron comes here -a second time, and what he will probably ask you ere he -goes away: but, Katy, you are not strong enough yet to -see him under so exciting circumstances, and, as your -physician, I desire that you tell him to wait at least three -weeks before he comes. Will you do so, Katy?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That is just as Helen talked,” Katy answered mournfully. -“She said I was not able.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And will you heed us?” Morris asked again, while -Katy after a moment consented, and glad of this respite -from what he knew to a certainty would be, Morris dealt -out her medicine, and for an instant felt her rapid pulse, -but did not retain her hand within his own, nor lay his -other upon her head, as he had sometimes done.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He could not do that now, so he hurried away, finding -the world into which he went far different from what it -had seemed an hour ago. Then all was bright and hopeful; -but now, alas! a darker night was gathering round -him than any he had ever known, and the patients visited -that day marveled at the whiteness of his face, asking if -he were ill. Yes, he answered them truly, and for two -days he was not seen again, but remained at home alone, -where none but his God was witness to what he suffered; -but when the third day came he went again among his -sick, grave, quiet and unchanged in outward appearance, -unless it was that his voice, always so kind, had now a -kinder tone and his manner was tenderer, more sympathizing. -Inwardly, however, there was a change, for Morris -Grant had lain himself upon the sacrificial altar, willing -to be and to endure whatever God should appoint, knowing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>that all would eventually be for his good. To the farm-house -he went every day, talking most with Helen now, -but never forgetting who it was sitting so demurely in the -arm-chair, or flitting about the room, for Katy was gaining -rapidly. Love perhaps had had nothing to do with -her dangerous illness, but it had much to do with her recovery, -and those not in the secret wondered to see how -she improved, her cheeks growing round and full and her -eyes shining with returning health and happiness.</p> - -<p class='c011'>At Helen’s instigation Katy had deferred Wilford’s visit -four weeks instead of three, but in that time there had come -two letters from him, so full of anxiety and sympathy for -“his poor little Katy who had been so sick,” that even -Helen began to think that he was not as proud and heartless -as she supposed, and that he did love her sister after -all.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If I supposed he meant to deceive her I should wish -I was a man to cowhide him,” she said to herself, with -flashing eye, as she heard Katy exulting that he was coming -“to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This time he would stop at Linwood, for Katy had asked -Morris if he might, while Morris had told her yes, feeling -his heart-wound throb afresh, as he thought how hard it -would be to entertain his rival. Of himself Morris could -do nothing, but with the help he never sought in vain -he could do all things, and so he gave orders that the best -chamber should be prepared for his guest, bidding Mrs. -Hull see that no pains were spared for his entertainment, -and then with Katy he waited for the day, the last one -in April, which would bring Wilford Cameron a second -time to Silverton.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER VII.<br> <span class='large'>WILFORD’S SECOND VISIT.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Wilford Cameron had tried to forget Katy Lennox, -both for his sake and her own, for he foresaw that she -could not be happy with his family, and he came to think -it might be a wrong to her to transplant her into a soil -so wholly unlike that in which her habits and affections -had taken root.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>His father once had abruptly asked him if there was any -truth in the report that he was about to marry and make -a fool of himself, and when Wilford had answered “No,” -he had replied with a significant</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Umph! Old enough, I should think, if you ever intend -to marry. Wilford,” and the old man faced square about, -“I know nothing of the girl, except what I gathered from -your mother and sisters. You have not asked my advice. I -don’t suppose you want it, but if you do, here it is. If -you love the girl and she is respectable, marry her if she -is poor as poverty and the daughter of a tinker; but -if you don’t love her, and she’s as rich as a nabob, for -thunder’s sake keep away from her.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This was the elder Cameron’s counsel, and Katy’s cause -rose fifty per cent. in consequence. Still Wilford was -sadly disquieted, so much so that his partner, Mark Ray, -could not fail to observe that something was troubling -him, and at last frankly asked what it was. Wilford knew -he could trust Mark, and he confessed the whole, telling -him far more of Silverton than he had told his mother, -and then asking what his friend would do were the case -his own.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Fond of fun and frolic, Mark laughed immoderately at -Wilford’s description of Aunt Betsy bringing her “herrin’ bone” -patch-work into the parlor, and telling him it was a -part of Katy’s “settin’ out,” but when it came to her hint -for an invitation to visit New York, the amused young man -roared with laughter, wishing so much that he might live -to see the day when poor Aunt Betsy Barlow stood ringing -for admittance at No.—— Fifth Avenue.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Wouldn’t it be rich, though, the meeting between your -Aunt Betsy and Juno?” and the tears fairly poured down -the young man’s face.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Wilford was too serious for trifling, and after his -merriment had subsided, Mark talked with him candidly -of Katy Lennox, whose cause he warmly espoused, telling -Wilford that he was far too sensitive with regard to family -and position.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You are a good fellow on the whole, but too outrageously -proud,” he said. “Of course this Aunt Betsy -in her <em>pongee</em>, whatever that may be, and the uncle in his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>shirt sleeves, and this mother whom you describe as weak -and ambitious, are objections which you would rather -should not exist; but if you love the girl, take her, family -and all. Not that you are to transport the whole colony of -Barlows to New York,” he added, as he saw Wilford’s look -of horror, “but make up your mind to endure what cannot -be helped, resting yourself upon the fact that your -position is such as cannot well be affected by any marriage -you might make, provided the wife were right.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This was Mark Ray’s advice, and it had great weight -with Wilford, who knew that Mark came, if possible, from -a better line of ancestry than himself. And still Wilford -hesitated, waiting until the winter was over, before he came -to the decision which, when it was reached, was firm as a -granite rock. He had made up his mind at last to marry -Katy Lennox if she would accept him, and he told his -mother so in presence of his sisters, when one evening they -were all kept at home by the rain. There was a sudden -uplifting of Bell’s eyelashes, a contemptuous shrug of her -shoulders, and then she went on with the book she was -reading, wondering if Katy was at all inclined to literature, -and thinking if she were that it might be easier to tolerate -her. Juno, who was expected to say the sharpest things, -turned upon him with the exclamation,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If you can stand those two feather beds, you can do -more than I supposed,” and as one means of showing her -disapproval, she quitted the room, while Bell, who had -taken to writing articles on the follies of the age, soon -followed her sister to elaborate an idea suggested to her -mind by her brother’s contemplated marriage.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Thus left alone with her son, Mrs. Cameron tried all -her powers of persuasion upon him. But nothing she said -influenced him in the least, seeing which she suddenly confronted -him with the question, “Shall you tell her <em>all</em>? -A husband should have no secrets of that kind from his -wife.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford’s face was white as ashes, and his voice trembled -as he replied, “Yes, mother, I shall tell her all; but, oh! -you do not know how hard it has been for me to bring -my mind to that, or how sorry I am that we ever kept that -secret—when Genevra died——”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>“Hush—h!” came warningly from the mother as Juno -reappeared, the warning indicating that Genevra was a -name never mentioned, except by mother and son.</p> - -<p class='c011'>As Juno remained, the conversation was not resumed, -and the next morning Wilford wrote to Katy Lennox the -letter which carried to her so much of joy, and to Dr. -Grant so much of grief. To wait four weeks, as Katy said -he must, was a terrible trial to Wilford, who counted every -moment which kept him from her side. It was all owing -to Dr. Grant and that perpendicular Helen, he knew, for -Katy in her letter had admitted that the waiting was wholly -their suggestion; and Wilford’s thoughts concerning them -were anything but complimentary, until a new idea was -suggested, which drove every other consideration from his -mind.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford was naturally <em>jealous</em>, but that fault had once -led him into so deep a trouble that he had struggled to -overcome it, and now, at its first approach, after he thought -it dead, he tried to shake it off—tried not to believe that -Morris cared especially for Katy. But the mere possibility -was unendurable, and in a most feverish state of excitement -he started again for Silverton.</p> - -<p class='c011'>As before, Morris was at the station, his cordial greeting -and friendly manner disarming him from all anxiety in -that quarter, and making him resolve anew to trample the -demon jealousy under his feet, where it could never rise -again. Katy’s life should not be darkened by the green -monster, he thought, and her future would have been bright -indeed had it proved all that he pictured it as he -drove along with Morris in the direction of the farm-house.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy was waiting for him, and he did not hesitate to -kiss her more than once as he kept her for a moment in -his arms, and then held her off to see if her illness had -left any traces upon her. It had not, except it were in -the increased delicacy of her complexion and the short hair -now growing out in silky rings. She was very pretty in her -short hair, but Wilford felt a little impatient as he saw -how childish it made her look, and thought how long -it would take for it to attain its former length. He -was already appropriating her to himself, and devising -<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>ways of improving her. In New York, with Morris Grant -standing before his jealous gaze, he could see no fault in -Katy, and even now, with her beside him, and the ogre -jealousy gone, he saw no fault in <em>her</em>; it was only her -hair, and that would be remedied in time; otherwise she -was perfect, and in his delight at meeting her again he -forgot to criticise the farm-house and its occupants, as he -had done before.</p> - -<p class='c011'>They were very civil to him—the mother overwhelmingly -so, and Wilford could not help detecting her anxiety that -all should be settled this time. Helen, on the contrary, -was unusually cool, confirming him in his opinion that she -was strong-minded and self-willed, and making him resolve -to remove Katy as soon as possible from her influence. -When talking with his mother he had said that if Katy -told him “yes,” he should probably place her at some -fashionable school for a year or two; but on the way to Silverton -he had changed his mind. He could not wait a -year, and if he married Katy at all, it should be immediately. -He would then take her to Europe, where she -could have the best of teachers, besides the advantage of -traveling; and it was a very satisfactory picture he drew -of the woman whom he should introduce into New York -society as his wife, Mrs. Wilford Cameron. It is true -that Katy had not yet said the all-important word, but -she was going to say it, and when late that afternoon they -came from the walk he had asked her to take, she had -listened to his tale of love and was his promised wife. Katy -was no coquette; whatever she felt she expressed, and she -had frankly confessed to Wilford her love for him, telling -him how the fear that he had forgotten her had haunted -her all the long winter; and then with her clear, truthful -blue eyes looking into his, asking him why he had not -sent her some message if as he said, he loved her all the -time.</p> - -<p class='c011'>For a moment Wilford’s lip was compressed and a flush -overspread his face, as, drawing her closer to him, he replied, -“My little Katy will remember that in my first -note I spoke of certain circumstances which had prevented -my writing earlier. I do not know that I asked her not -to seek to know those circumstances; but I ask it now. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>Will Katy trust me so far as to believe that all is right -between us, and never allude to these circumstances?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He was kissing her fondly, and his voice was so winning -that Katy promised, and then came the hardest, the trying -to tell her <em>all</em>, as he had said to his mother he would. -Twice he essayed to speak, and as often something sealed -his lips, until at last he began, “You must not think me -perfect, Katy, for I have faults, and perhaps if you knew -my past life you would wish to revoke your recent decision -and render a different verdict to my suit. Suppose I unfold -the blackest leaf for your inspection?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, no, oh no,” and Katy playfully stopped his mouth -with her hand. “Of course you have some faults, but I -would rather find them out by myself. I could not hear -anything against you now. I am satisfied to take you as -you are.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford felt his heart throb wildly with the feeling that -he was deceiving the young girl; but if she would not -suffer him to tell her, he was not to be censured if she remained -in ignorance. And so the golden moment fled, -and when he spoke again he said, “If Katy will not now -read the leaf I offered to show her, she must not shrink -in horror, if ever it does meet her eye.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I won’t, I promise,” Kate answered, a vague feeling -of fear creeping over her as to what the reading of that -mysterious page involved. But this was soon forgotten, as -Wilford, remembering his suspicions of Dr. Grant, thought -to probe her a little by asking if she had ever loved any -one before himself.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, never,” she answered. “I never dreamed of such -a thing until I saw you, Mr. Cameron;” and Wilford believed -the trusting girl, whose loving nature shone in every -lineament of her face, upturned to receive the kisses he -pressed upon it, resolving within himself to be to her what -he ought to be.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“By the way,” he continued, “don’t call me Mr. Cameron -again, as you did just now. I would rather be your -Wilford. It sounds more familiar;” and then he told her -of his projected tour to Europe, and Katy felt her pulses -quicken as she thought of London, Paris and Rome, as -places which her plain country eyes might yet look upon. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>But when it came to their marriage, which Wilford said -must be within a few weeks—she demurred, for this arrangement -was not in accordance with her desires; and -she opposed her lover with all her strength, telling him -she was so young, not eighteen till July, and she knew so -little of housekeeping. He must let her stay at home until -she learned at least the art of making bread!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Poor, ignorant Katy! Wilford could not forbear a smile -as he thought how different were her views from his, and -tried to explain that the art of bread-making, though very -desirable in most wives, was <em>not</em> an essential accomplishment -for his. Servants would do that; besides he did not -intend to have a house of his own at once; he should take -her first to live with his mother, where she could learn -what was necessary much better than in Silverton.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford Cameron expected to be obeyed in every important -matter by the happy person who should be his wife, -and as he possessed the faculty of enforcing perfect obedience -without seeming to be severe, so he silenced Katy’s -arguments, and when they left the shadow of the butternut -tree she knew that in all human probability six weeks’ -time would find her on the broad ocean alone with Wilford -Cameron. So perfect was Katy’s faith and love that she -had no fear of Wilford now, but as his affianced wife walked -confidently by his side, feeling fully his equal, nor once -dreaming how great the disparity his city friends would -discover between the fastidious man of fashion and the unsophisticated -country girl. And Wilford did not seek to -enlighten her, but suffered her to talk of the delight it -would be to live in New York, and how pleasant for mother -and Helen to visit her, especially the latter, who would -thus have a chance to see something of the world.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“When I get a house of my own I mean she shall live -with me all the while,” she said, stooping to gather a tuft -of wild blue-bells growing in a marshy spot.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford winced a little, but he would not so soon tear -down Katy’s castles, and so he merely remarked, as she -asked if it would not be nice to have Helen with them,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, very nice; but do not speak of it to her yet, as it -will probably be some time before she will come to us.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And so Helen never suspected the honor in store for her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>as she stood in the doorway anxiously waiting for her sister, -who she feared would take cold from being out so long. -Something though in Katy’s face made her guess that to -her was lost forever the bright little sister whom she loved -so dearly, and fleeing up the narrow stairway to her room, -she wept bitterly as she thought of the coming time when -she would occupy that room alone, and know that never -again would a little golden head lie upon her neck just -as it had lain, for there would be a new love, a new interest -between them, a love for the man whose voice she -could hear now talking to her mother in the peculiar tone -he always assumed when speaking to any one of them -excepting Morris or Katy.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I wish it were not wrong to hate him,” she exclaimed -passionately; “it would be such a relief; but if he is only -kind to Katy, I do not care how much he despises us,” -and bathing her face, Helen sat down by her window, wondering, -if Mr. Cameron took her sister, when it would -probably be. “Not this year or more,” she said, “for Katy -is so young;” but on this point she was soon set right -by Katy herself, who, leaving her lover alone with her -mother, stole up to tell her sister the good news.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, I know; I guessed as much when you came back -from the meadows,” and Helen’s voice was very unsteady in -its tone as she smoothed the soft rings clustering around -her sister’s brow.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Crying, Helen! oh, don’t. I shall love you just the -same, and you are coming to live with us,” Katy said, forgetting -Wilford’s instructions in her desire to comfort -Helen, who broke down again, while Katy’s tears were -mingled with her own.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was the first time Katy had thought what it would -be to leave forever the good, patient sister, who had been -so kind, treating her like a petted kitten and standing between -her and every hardship.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Don’t cry, Nellie,” she said, “New York is not far -away, and I shall come so often, that is, after we return -from Europe. Did I tell you we are going there first, -and Wilford will not wait, but says we must be married -the 10th of June?—that’s his birthday—thirty—and he is -telling mother now.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>“So soon—oh Katy! and you so young!” was all Helen -could say, as with quivering lip she kissed her sister’s hand -raised to wipe her tears away.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, it is soon, and I am young: but Wilford is in -such a hurry; he don’t care,” Katy replied, trying to comfort -Helen, and begging of her not to cry so hard.</p> - -<p class='c011'>No, Wilford did not care how much he wrung the -hearts of Katy’s family by taking her from them at once, -and by dictating to a certain extent the way in which he -would take her. There must be no invited guests, he said; -no lookers-on, except such as chose to go to the church -where the ceremony would be performed, and from which -place he should go directly to the Boston train. It was -his wish, too, that the matter should be kept as quiet as -possible, and not be generally discussed in the neighborhood, -as he disliked being a subject for gossip. And Mrs. -Lennox, to whom this was said, promised compliance with -everything, or if she ventured to object she found herself -borne down by a stronger will than her own, and weakly -yielded, her manner fully testifying to her delight at the -honor conferred upon her by this high marriage of her -child. Wilford knew just how pleased she was, and her -obsequious manner annoyed him far more than Helen’s -blunt straightforwardness, when, after supper was over, -she told him how averse she was to his taking Katy so soon, -adding still further that if it must be, she saw no harm -in inviting a few of their neighbors. It was customary, -it would be expected, she said, while Mrs. Lennox, -emboldened by Helen’s boldness, chimed in, “at least your -folks will come; I shall be glad to meet your mother.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford was very polite to them both; very good-humored, -but he kept to his first position, and poor Mrs. -Lennox saw fade into airy nothingness all her visions of -roasted fowls and frosted cake trimmed with myrtle and -flowers, with hosts of the Silverton people there to admire -and partake of the marriage feast. It was too bad and so -Aunt Betsy said, when, after Wilford had gone to Linwood, -the family sat together around the kitchen stove, -talking the matter over.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, it was too bad, when there was that white hen-turkey -she could fat up so easy before June, and she knew -<span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>how to make ’lection cake that would melt in your mouth, -and was enough sight better than the black stuff they -called weddin’ cake. She meant to try what <em>she</em> could -do with Mr. Carmon.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And next morning when he came again she did try, -holding out as inducements why he should be married the -night before starting for Boston, the “white hen-turkey, -the ’lection cake, and the gay old times the young folks -would have playing snap-and-catchem; or if they had a -mind, they could dance a bit in the kitchen. She didn’t -believe in it, to be sure—none of the Orthodox did; but as -Wilford was a ’Piscopal, and that was a ’Piscopal quirk, -it wouldn’t harm for once.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford tried not to show his disgust, and only Helen -suspected how hard it was for him to keep down his -utter contempt. She saw it in his eyes, which resembled -two smouldering volcanoes as they rested upon Aunt Betsy -during her harangue.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Thank you, madam, for your good intentions, but I -think we will dispense with the turkey and the cake,” was -all he said, though he did smile at the old lady’s definition -of dancing, which for once she might allow.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Even Morris, when appealed to, decided with Wilford -against Mrs. Lennox and Aunt Betsy, knowing how unequal -he was to the task which would devolve on him in -case of a bridal party at the farm-house. In comparative -silence he heard from Wilford of his engagement offering -no objection when told how soon the marriage would take -place, but congratulating him so quietly, that if Wilford -had retained a feeling of jealousy, it would have -disappeared; Morris was so seemingly indifferent to -everything except Katy’s happiness. But Wilford did not -observe closely, and failed to detect the hopeless look -in Morris’s eyes, or the whiteness which settled about his -mouth as he fulfilled the duties of host and sought to -entertain his guest. Those were dark hours for Morris -Grant, and he was glad when at the end of the second day -Wilford’s visit expired, and he saw him driven from -Linwood round to the farm-house, where he would say -his parting words to Katy and then go back to New York.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER VIII.<br> <span class='large'>GETTING READY TO BE MARRIED.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>“<span class='sc'>Miss Helen Lennox</span>, Silverton, Mass.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This was the superscription of a letter, postmarked New -York, and brought to Helen within a week after Wilford’s -departure. It was his handwriting, too; and wondering -what he could have written to her, Helen broke the seal, -starting as there dropped into her lap a check for five -hundred dollars.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What does it mean?” she said, her cheek flushing with -anger and insulted pride as she read the following brief -lines:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<span class='sc'>New York</span>, May 8th.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c005'>“<span class='sc'>Miss Helen Lennox</span>: Please pardon the liberty I -have taken in enclosing the sum of $500 to be used by you -in procuring whatever Katy may need for present necessities. -Presuming that the country seamstresses have not -the best facilities for obtaining the latest fashions, my -mother proposes sending out her own private dressmaker, -Mrs. Ryan. You may look for her the last of the week.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Yours truly, <span class='sc'>Wilford Cameron</span>.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c011'>It would be impossible to describe Helen’s indignation -as she read this letter, which roused her to a pitch of -anger such as Wilford Cameron had never imagined when -he wrote the offensive lines. He had really no intention of -insulting her. On the contrary, the gift of money was -kindly meant, for he knew that Uncle Ephraim was poor, -while the part referring to the dressmaker was wholly -his mother’s proposition, to which he had acceded, knowing -how much confidence Juno had in her taste, and that -whatever she might see at the farm-house would remain -a secret with her, or at most be confined to the ears of his -mother and sisters. He wished Katy to look well, and -foolishly fancying that no country artiste could make her -look so, he consented to Mrs. Ryan’s going, never dreaming -<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>of the effect it would have upon Helen, whose first -impulse was to throw the check into the fire. Her second, -however, was soberer. She would not destroy it, nor tell -any one she had it, but Morris—<em>he</em> should know the whole. -Accordingly, she repaired to Linwood, finding Morris at -home, and startling him with the vehemence of her anger -as she explained the nature of her errand.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If I disliked Wilford Cameron before, I hate him now. -Yes, hate him,” she said, stamping her little foot in -fury.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, Helen!” Morris exclaimed, laying his hand reprovingly -on her shoulder; “is this the right spirit for -one who professes better things? Stop a moment and -think.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know it is wrong,” Helen answered, “but somehow -since he came after Katy, I have grown so hard, so wicked -toward Mr. Cameron. He seems so proud, so unapproachable. -Say, Cousin Morris, do you think him a good -man, that is, good enough for Katy?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Most people would call him too good for her,” Morris -replied. “And, in a worldly point of view, she is doing -well. Cameron, I believe, is better than three-fourths -of the men who marry our girls. He is very -proud: but that results from his education and training. -Looking only from a New York standpoint he misjudges -country people, but he will appreciate you by and by. -Do not begin by hating him so cordially.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, but this money. Now, Morris, we do not want -him to get Katy’s outfit. I would rather go without -clothes my whole life. Shall I send it back?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I think that the best disposition to make of it,” Morris -replied. “As your brother, I can and will supply -Katy’s needs.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I knew you would, Morris. And I’ll send it to-day, -in time to keep that dreadful Mrs. Ryan from coming; -for I won’t have any of Wilford Cameron’s dressmakers -in the house.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Morris could not help smiling at Helen’s energetic -manner, as she hurried to his library and taking his pen -wrote to Wilford Cameron as follows:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span><span class='sc'>Silverton</span>, May 9th, 18—.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c005'><span class='sc'>Mr. Wilford Cameron</span>:—I give you credit for the -kindest of motives in sending the check which I now return -to you, with my compliments. We are not as poor -as you suppose, and would almost deem it sacrilege to let -another than ourselves provide for Katy so long as she is -ours. And furthermore, Mrs. Ryan’s services will not be -needed, so it is not worth her while to make a journey here -for nothing.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Yours,</div> - <div class='line in8'><span class='sc'>Helen Lennox</span>.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c011'>Helen felt better after this letter had gone, wondering -often how it would be received, and if Wilford would be -angry. She hoped he would, and his mother too. “The -idea of sending that Ryan woman to us, as if we did not -know anything!” and Helen’s lip curled scornfully as she -thus denounced the Ryan woman, whose trunk was packed -with paper patterns and devices of various kinds when -the letter arrived, saying she was not needed. Being a -woman of few words, she quietly unpacked her patterns -and went back to the work she was engaged upon when -Mrs. Cameron proposed her going into the country. Juno, -on the contrary, flew into a violent passion to think their -first friendly advances should be thus received. Bell -laughed immoderately, saying she liked Helen Lennox’s -spirit, and wished her brother had chosen her instead of -the other, who, she presumed, was a milk and water thing, -even if Mrs. Woodhull did extol her so highly. Mrs. -Cameron felt the rebuke keenly, wincing under it, and -saying “that Helen Lennox must be a very rude, ill-bred -girl,” and hoping her son would draw the line of -division between his wife and her family so tightly that the -sister could never pass over it. She had received the -news of her son’s engagement without opposition, for she -knew the time for that was past. Wilford would marry -Katy Lennox, and she must make the best of it, so she -offered no remonstrance, but, when they were alone, she -said to him, “Did you tell her? Does she know it -all?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, mother,” and the old look of pain came back into -<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>Wilford’s face. “I meant to do so, and I actually began, -but she stopped me short, saying she did not wish to -hear my faults, she would rather find them out herself. -Away from her it is very easy to think what I will do, but -when the trial comes I find it hard, we have kept it so -long; but I shall tell her yet; not till after we are married -though, and I have made her love me even more -than she does now. She will not mind it then. I shall -take her where I first met Genevra, and there I will tell -her. Is that right?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, if you think so,” Mrs. Cameron replied.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Whatever it was which Wilford had to tell Katy Lennox, -it was very evident that he and his mother looked -at it differently, he regarding it as a duty he owed to -Katy not to conceal from her what might possibly influence -her decision, while his mother only wished the secret -told in hopes that it would prevent the marriage; but now -that Wilford had deferred it till after the marriage, she -saw no reason why it need be told at all. At least Wilford -could do as he thought best, and she changed the conversation -from Genevra to Helen’s letter, which had so upset -her plans. That her future daughter-in-law was handsome -she did not doubt, but she, of course, had no manner, no -style, and as a means of improving her in the latter -respect, and making her presentable at the altar and in -Boston, she had proposed sending out <em>Ryan</em>; but that -project had failed, and Helen Lennox did not stand very -high in the Cameron family, though Wilford in his heart -felt an increased respect for her independent spirit, notwithstanding -that she had thwarted his designs.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have another idea,” Mrs. Cameron said to her -daughters that afternoon, when talking with them upon -the subject. “Wilford tells me Katy and Bell are about -the same size and figure, and Ryan shall make up a -traveling suit proper for the occasion. Of course there -will be no one at the wedding for whom we care, but in -Boston, at the Revere, it will be different. Cousin Harvey -boards there, and she is very stylish. I saw some -elegant grey poplins, of the finest lustre, at Stewart’s -yesterday. Suppose we drive down this afternoon.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This was said to Juno as the more fashionable one of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>the sisters, but Bell answered quickly, “Poplin, mother, -on Katy? It will not become her style, I am sure, though -suitable for many. If I am to be fitted, I shall say a word -about the fabric. Get a little checked silk, as expensive -as you like. It will suit her better than a heavy poplin.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Perhaps Bell was right, Mrs. Cameron said; they would -look at both, and as the result of this looking, two dresses, -one of the finest poplin, and one of the softest, richest, -plaided silk, were given the next day into Mrs. Ryan’s -hands, with injunctions to spare no pains or expense in -trimming and making both. And so the dress-making for -Katy’s bridal was proceeding in New York, in spite of -Helen’s letter; while down in Silverton, at the farm-house, -there were numerous consultations as to what was proper -and what was not, Helen sometimes almost wishing she -had suffered Mrs. Ryan to come. Katy would look well -in anything, but Helen knew there were certain styles -preferable to others, and in a maze of perplexity she consulted -with this and that individual, until all Silverton -knew what was projected, each one offering the benefit of -her advice until Helen and Katy were nearly distracted. -Aunt Betsy suggested a blue delaine and round cape, offering -to get it herself, and actually purchasing the material -with her own funds, saved from drying apples. That -would answer for one dress, Helen said, but not for the -wedding; and she was becoming more undecided, when -Morris came to the rescue, telling Katy of a young woman -who had for some time past been his patient, but who -was now nearly well and was anxious to obtain work again. -She had evidently seen better days, he said; was very lady-like -in her manner, and possessed of a great deal of taste, -he imagined; besides that, she had worked in one of the -largest shops in New York. “As I am going this afternoon -over to North Silverton,” he added, in conclusion, -“and shall pass Miss Hazelton’s house, you or Helen might -accompany me and see for yourself.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was decided that Helen should go, and about four -o’clock she found herself ringing at the cottage over -whose door hung the sign, “Miss M. Hazelton, Fashionable -Dressmaker.” She was at home, and in a few moments -Helen was talking with Marian Hazelton, whose face -<span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>showed signs of recent illness, but was nevertheless very -attractive, from its peculiarly sad expression and the soft -liquid eyes of dark blue, which looked as if they were not -strangers to tears. At twenty she must have been strikingly -beautiful; and even now, at thirty, few ladies could -have vied with her had she possessed the means for gratifying -her taste and studying her style. About the mouth, so -perfect in repose, there was when she spoke a singularly -sweet smile, which in a measure prepared one for the low, -silvery voice, which had a strange note of mournful music -in its tone, making Helen start as it asked, “Did you wish -to see me?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes; Dr. Grant told me you could make dresses, and -I drove round with him to secure your services, if possible, -for my sister, who is soon to be married. We would -like it so much if you could go to our house instead of -having Katy come here.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Marian Hazelton was needing work, for there was due -more than three months’ board, besides the doctor’s bill, -and so, though it was not her custom to go from house -to house, she would, in this instance, accommodate Miss -Lennox, especially as during her illness her customers had -many of them gone elsewhere, and her little shop was -nearly broken up. “Was it an elaborate trousseau she was -expected to make?” and she bent down to turn over some -fashion plates lying upon the table.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, no! we are plain country people. We cannot -afford as much for Katy as we would like; besides, I dare -say Mr. Cameron will prefer selecting most of her wardrobe -himself, as he is very wealthy and fastidious,” Helen -replied, repenting the next instant the part concerning -Mr. Cameron’s wealth, as that might look like boasting to -Miss Hazelton, whose head was bent lower over the magazine -as she said, “Did I understand that the gentleman’s -name was Cameron?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, Wilford Cameron, from New York,” Helen -answered, holding up her skirts and s-s-kt-ing at the -kitten which came running toward her, evidently intent -upon springing into her lap.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Fear of cats was Helen’s weakness, if weakness it can -be called, and in her efforts to frighten her tormentor -<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>she did not look again at Miss Hazelton until startled by -a gasping cry and heavy fall. Marian had fainted, and -Helen was just raising her head from the floor to her lap -when Morris appeared, relieving her of her burden, of -whom he took charge until she showed signs of life. In -her alarm Helen forgot entirely what they were talking -about when the faint came on, and her first question put -to Marian was, “Were you taken suddenly ill? Why -did you faint?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was no answer at first; but when she did speak -Marian said, “I am still so weak that the least exertion -affects me, and I was bending over the table; it will soon -pass off.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>If she was so weak she was not able to work, Helen said, -proposing that the plan be for the present abandoned, -but to this Marian would not listen; and her great eager -eyes had in them so scared a look that Helen said no -more on that subject, but made arrangements for her -coming to them at once. Morris was to leave his patient -some medicine, and while he was preparing it, Helen had -time to notice her more carefully, admiring her lady-like -manners, and thinking her smile the sweetest she had ever -seen. Greatly interested in her, Helen plied Morris with -questions of Miss Hazelton during their ride home, asking -what he knew of her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Nothing, except that she came to North Silverton a -year ago, opening her shop, and by her faithfulness, and -pleasant, obliging manners, winning favor with all who -employed her. Previous to her sickness she had a few -times attended St. Paul’s at South Silverton, that being -the church of her choice. Had Helen never observed -her?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>No, Helen had not. And then she spoke of her fainting, -telling how sudden it was, and wondering if she was -subject to such turns. Marian Hazelton had made a -strong impression on Helen’s mind, and she talked of -her so much that Katy waited her appearance at the -farm-house with feverish anxiety. It was evening when -she came, looking very white, and seeming to Helen as -if she had changed since she saw her first. In her eyes -there was a kind of hopeless, weary expression, while -<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>her smile made one almost wish to cry, it was so sad, -and yet so strangely sweet. Katy felt its influence at once, -growing very confidential with the stranger, who, during -the half hour in which they were accidentally left alone, -drew from her every particular concerning her intended -marriage. Very closely the dark blue eyes scrutinized -little Katy, taking in first the faultless beauty of her face, -and then going away down into the inmost depths of her -character, as if to find out what was there.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Pure, loving innocent, and unsuspecting,” was Marian -Hazelton’s verdict, and she followed wistfully every movement -of the young girl as she flitted around the room, -chatting as familiarly with the dressmaker as if she were -a friend long known instead of an entire stranger.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You look very young to be married,” Miss Hazelton -said to her once, and shaking back her short rings of -hair Katy answered, “Eighteen next Fourth of July; -but Mr. Cameron is thirty.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is he a widower?” was the next question, which -Katy answered with a merry laugh. “Mercy, no! <em>I</em> -marry a widower! How funny! I don’t believe he ever -cared a fig for anybody but me. I mean to ask him.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I would,” and the pale lips shut tightly together, -while a resentful gleam shot for a moment across Marian’s -face; but it quickly passed away, and her smile was -as sweet as ever as she at last bade the family good -night and repaired to the little room where Wilford -Cameron once had slept.</p> - -<p class='c011'>A long time she stood before the glass, brushing her -dark abundant hair, and intently regarding her own -features, while in her eyes there was a hard, terrible -look, from which Katy Lennox would have shrunk in fear. -But that too passed, and the eyes grew soft with tears as -she turned away, and falling on her knees moaned sadly, -“I never will—no, I never will. God help me to keep -the promise. Were it the other one—Helen—I might, for -she could bear it; but Katy, that child—no, I never will,” -and as the words died on her lips there came struggling -up from her heart a prayer for Katy Lennox’s happiness, -as fervent and sincere as any which had ever been made -for her since she was betrothed.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>They grew to liking each other rapidly, Marian and -Katy, the latter of whom thought her new friend greatly -out of place as a dressmaker, telling her she ought to -marry some rich man, calling her Marian altogether, and -questioning her very closely of her previous life. But -Marian only told her that she was born in London; that -she learned her trade on the Isle of Wight, near to the -Osborne House, where the royal family sometimes came, -and that she had often seen the present Queen, thus trying -to divert Katy’s mind from asking what there was besides -that apprenticeship to the Misses True on the Isle of -Wight. Once indeed she went farther, saying that her -friends were dead; that she had come to America in hopes -of doing better than she could at home; that she had -stayed in New York until her health began to fail, and then -had tried what country air would do, coming to North -Silverton because a young woman who worked in the same -shop was acquainted there, and recommended the place. -This was all Katy could learn, and Marian’s heart history, -if she had one, was guarded carefully.</p> - -<p class='c011'>They had decided at last upon the wedding dress, -which Helen reserved the right to make herself. Miss -Hazelton must fit it, of course, but to her belonged the -privilege of making it, every stitch; Katy would think -more of it if she did it all, she said; but she did not confess -how the bending over the dress, both early and late, -was the escape-valve for the feeling which otherwise would -have found vent in passionate tears. Helen was very -wretched during the pleasant May days she usually enjoyed -so much, but over which now a dark pall was spread, -shutting out all the brightness and leaving only the -terrible certainty that Katy was lost to her forever—bright, -frolicsome Katy, who, without a shadow on her heart, -sported amid the bridal finery, unmindful of the anguish -tugging at the hearts of both the patient women, Marian -and Helen, who worked on so silently, reserving their tears -for the night-time, when Katy was dreaming of Wilford -Cameron. Helen was greatly interested in Marian, but -never guessed that her feelings, too, were stirred to their -very depths as the bridal preparations progressed. She -only knew how wretched she was herself, and how hard -<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>it was to fight her tears back as she bent over the silk, weaving -in with every stitch a part of the clinging love which -each day grew stronger for the only sister, who would -soon be gone, leaving her alone. Only once did she break -entirely down, and that was when the dress was done and -Katy tried it on, admiring its effect and having a second -glass brought that she might see it behind.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Isn’t it lovely?” she exclaimed; “and the more valuable -because you made it. I shall think of you every -time I wear it,” and the impulsive girl wound her arms -around Helen’s neck, kissing her lovingly, while Helen -sank into a chair and sobbed aloud, “Oh, Katy, darling -Katy! you won’t forget me when you are rich and admired, -and can have all you want? You will remember us here -at home, so sad and lonely? You don’t know how desolate -it will be, knowing you are gone, never to come back again, -just as you go away.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>In an instant Katy was on her knees before Helen, -whom she tried to comfort by telling her she should -come back,—come often, too, staying a long while; and -that when she had a city home of her own she should -live with her for good, and they would be so happy.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I cannot quite give Wilford up to please you,” she -said, when that gigantic sacrifice suggested itself as something -which it was possible Helen might require of her; -“but I will do anything else, only please don’t cry, -darling Nellie—please don’t cry. It spoils all my -pleasure,” and Katy’s soft hands wiped away the tears -running so fast over her sister’s face.</p> - -<p class='c011'>After that Helen did not cry again in Katy’s presence, -but the latter knew she wanted to, and it made her rather -sad, particularly when she saw reflected in the faces of the -other members of the family the grief she had witnessed -in Helen. Even Uncle Ephraim was not as cheerful as -usual, and once when Katy came upon him in the wood-shed -chamber, where he was shelling corn, she found him -resting from his work and looking from the window far -off across the hills, with a look which made her guess -he was thinking of her, and stealing up beside him she -laid her hand upon his wrinkled face, whispering softly, -“Poor Uncle Eph, are you sorry, too?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>He knew what she meant, and the aged chin quivered, -while a big tear dropped into the tub of corn as he replied. -“Yes, Katy-did—very sorry.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>That was all he said, and Katy, after smoothing his -silvery hair a moment, kissed his cheek and then stole -away, wondering if the love to which she was going was -equal to the love of home, which, as the days went by, -grew stronger and stronger, enfolding her in a mighty -embrace, which could only be severed by bitter tears -and fierce heart-pangs, such as death itself sometimes -brings. In that household there was, after Katy, no -one glad of that marriage except the mother, and she -was only glad because of the position it would bring to -her daughter. But among them all Morris suffered most, -and suffered more because he had to endure in secret, so -that no one guessed the pain it was for him to go each -day where Katy was, and watch her as she sometimes -donned a part of her finery for his benefit, asking him -once if he did not wish he were in Wilford’s place, so as -to have as pretty a bride as she should make. Then -Marian Hazelton glanced up in time to see the expression -of his face, a look whose meaning she readily recognized, -and when Dr. Grant left the farm-house that day, another -than himself knew of his love for Katy, drawing her -breath hurriedly as she thought of taking back the words, -“I never will,”—of revoking that decision and telling -Katy what Wilford Cameron should have told her long -before. But the wild wish fled, and Wilford’s secret was -safe, while Marian watched Morris Grant with a pitying -interest as he came among them, speaking always in the -same kind, gentle tone, and trying so hard to enter into -Katy’s joy.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“His burden is greater than mine. God help us both,” -Marian said, as she resumed her work.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And so amid joy and gladness, silent tears and breaking -hearts, the preparations went on until all was done, -and only three days remained before the eventful tenth. -Marian Hazelton was going home, for she would not -stay at the farm-house until all was over, notwithstanding -Katy’s entreaties were joined to those of Helen.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Perhaps she would come to the church,” she said, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>“though she could not promise;” and her manner was -so strange that Katy wondered if she could have offended -her, and at last said to her timidly, as she stood with -her bonnet on, waiting for Uncle Ephraim, “You are not -angry with me for anything, are you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Angry with <em>you</em>!” and Katy never forgot the glitter -of the tearful eyes, or their peculiar expression as they -turned upon her. “No, oh, no; I could not be angry -with you, and yet, Katy Lennox, some in my position -would <em>hate</em> you, contrasting your prospects with their -own; but I do not; I love you; I bless you, and pray -that you may be happy with your husband; honor him, -obey him if need be, and above all, never give him the -slightest cause to doubt you. You will have admirers, -Katy Lennox. In New York others than your husband -will speak to you words of flattery, but don’t you listen. -Remember what I tell you; and now, again, God bless -you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She touched her lips to Katy’s forehead, and when -they were withdrawn there were great tears there which -she had left! Marian’s tears on Katy’s brow; and it was -very meet that just before her bridal day Wilford Cameron’s -bride should receive such baptism from Marian -Hazelton.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER IX.<br> <span class='large'>BEFORE THE MARRIAGE.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Oh the morning of the 9th day of June, 18—, Wilford -Cameron stood in his father’s parlor, surrounded by the -entire family, who, after their unusually early breakfast, -had assembled to bid him good-bye, for Wilford was going -for his bride, and it would be months, if not a year, ere -he returned to them again. They had given him up to his -idol, asking only that none of the idol’s family should be -permitted to cross their threshold, and also that the idol -should not often be allowed the privilege of returning -to the place from whence she came. These restrictions -had emanated from the female portion of the Cameron -family, the mother, Juno and Bell. The father, on the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>contrary, had sworn roundly as he would sometimes swear -at what he called the contemptible pride of his wife and -daughters. Katy was sure of a place in his heart just -because of the pride which was building up so high a -wall between her and her friends, and when at parting he -held his son’s hand in his, he said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I charge you, Will, be kind to that young girl, and -don’t for Heaven’s sake go to cramming her with airs and -nonsense which she does not understand. Tell her I’ll -be a father to her; her own, you say, is dead, and give -her this as my bridal present.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He held out a small box containing a most exquisite -set of pearls, such as he fancied would be becoming to -the soft, girlish beauty Wilford had described. Something -in his father’s manner touched Wilford closely, -making him resolve anew that if Kitty were not happy -as Mrs. Cameron it should not be his fault. His mother -had said all she wished to say, while his sisters had been -gracious enough to send their love to the bride, Bell hoping -she would look as well in the poplin and little plaid -as she had done. Either was suitable for the wedding -day, Mrs. Cameron said, and she might take her choice, -only Wilford must see that she did not wear with the -poplin the gloves and belt intended for the silk; country -people had so little taste, and she did want Katy to look -well, even if she were not there to see her. And with his -brain a confused medley of poplins and plaids, belts and -gloves, pearls and Katy, Wilford finally tore himself away, -and at three o’clock that afternoon drove through Silverton -village, past the little church, which the Silverton maidens -were decorating with flowers, pausing a moment in their -work to look at him as he went by. Among them was -Marian Hazelton, but she only bent lower over her work, -thus hiding the tear which dropped upon the delicate buds -she was fashioning into the words, “Joy to the Bride,” -intending the whole as the center of the wreath to be -placed over the altar where all could see it.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The handsomest man I ever saw,” was the verdict of -most of the girls as they came back to their work, while -Wilford drove on to the farm-house where Katy had been -so anxiously watching for him.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>When he came in sight, however, and she knew he was -actually there, she ran away to hide her blushes, and the -feeling of awe which had come suddenly over her for the -man who was to be her husband. But Helen bade her go -back, and so she went coyly in to Wilford, who met her -with loving caresses, and then put upon her finger the -superb diamond which he said he had thought to send as a -pledge of their engagement, but had finally concluded to -wait and present himself. Katy had heard much of diamonds, -and seen some in Canandaigua; but the idea that -she, plain Katy Lennox, would ever wear them, had never -entered her mind; and now, as she looked at the brilliant -gem sparkling upon her hand, she felt a thrill of something -more than joy at that good fortune which had -brought her to diamonds. Vanity, we suppose it was—such -vanity as was very natural in her case, and she thought -she should never tire of looking at the precious stone; -but when Wilford showed her next the plain broad band -of gold, and tried it on her third finger, asking if she knew -what it meant, the true woman spoke within her, and she -answered tearfully,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, I know, and I will try to prove worthy of what -I shall be to you when I wear that ring for good.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy was very quiet for a moment as she sat with her -head nestled against Wilford’s bosom, but when he observed -that she was looking tired, and asked if she had been working -hard, the quiet fit was broken, and she told him of -the dress “we had made,” the <em>we</em> referring solely to Helen -and Marian, for Katy had hardly done a thing. But it -did not matter; she fancied she had, and she asked if he -did not wish to see her dresses. Wilford knew it would -please Katy, and so he followed her into the adjoining -room, where they were spread out upon tables and chairs, -with Helen in their midst, ready to pack them away. -Wilford thought of Mrs. Ryan and the check, but he -shook hands with Helen very civilly, saying to her playfully,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I suppose you are willing I should take your sister -with me this time.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Helen could not answer, but turned away to hide her -face, while Katy showed one dress after another, until -<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>she came to the silk, which, with a bright blush, she told -him “was the very thing itself—the one intended for -to-morrow,” and asked if he did not like it.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford could not help telling her yes, for he knew she -wished him to do so, but in his heart he was thinking -bad thoughts against the wardrobe of his bride elect—thoughts -which would have won for him the title of <em>hen-huzzy</em> -from Helen, could she have known them. And yet -Wilford did not deserve that name. He had been accustomed -all his life to hearing dress discussed in his mother’s -parlor, and in his sister’s boudoir, while for the last -five weeks he had heard at home of little else than the -probable <i><span lang="fr">tout ensemble</span></i> of Katy’s wardrobe, bought and -made in the country, his mother deciding finally to write -to her cousin, Mrs. Harvey, who boarded at the Revere, -and have her see to it before Katy left the city. Under -these circumstances, it was not strange that Wilford did -not enter into Katy’s delight, even after she told him how -Helen had made every stitch of the dress herself, and that -it would on that account be very dear to her. This -was a favorable time for getting the poplin off his mind, -and with a premonitory <em>ahem</em> he said, “Yes, it is very -nice, no doubt; but,” and here he turned to Helen, -“after Mrs. Ryan’s services were declined, my mother determined -to have two dresses fitted to sister Bell, who I -think is just Katy’s size and figure. I need not say,” and -his eyes still rested on Helen, who gave him back an unflinching -glance, “I need not say that no pains have been -spared to make these garments everything they should be -in point of quality and style. I have them in my trunk, -and,” turning now to Katy, “it is my mother’s special -request that one of them be worn to-morrow. You could -take your choice, she said—either was suitable. I will -bring them for your inspection.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He left the room, while Helen’s face resembled a -dark thunder-cloud, whose lightnings shone in her flashing -eyes as she looked after him and then back to -where Katy stood, bewildered and wondering what was -wrong.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Who is Mrs. Ryan?” she asked. “What does he -mean?” but before Helen could command her voice to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>explain, Wilford was with them again, bringing the -dresses, over which Katy nearly went wild.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She had never seen anything as elegant as the rich -heavy poplin or the soft lustrous silk, while even Helen -acknowledged that there was about them a finish which -threw Miss Hazelton’s quite in the shade.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Beautiful!” Katy exclaimed; “and trimmed so exquisitely! -I do so hope they will fit!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I dare say they will,” Wilford replied, enjoying her -appreciation of his mother’s gift. “At all events they -will answer for to-morrow, and any needful alterations -can be made in Boston. Which will you wear?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, I don’t know. I wish I could wear both. Helen, -which shall I?” and Katy appealed to her sister, who -could endure no more, but hid her head among the pillows -of the bed and cried.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy understood the whole, and dropping the silk to -which she inclined the most, she flew to Helen’s side and -whispered to her, “Don’t, Nellie, I won’t wear either of -them. I’ll wear the one you made. It was mean and -vain in me to think of doing otherwise.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>During this scene Wilford had stolen from the room, -and with him gone Helen was capable of judging candidly -and sensibly. She knew the city silk was handsomer and -better suited for Wilford Cameron’s bride than the country -plaid, and so she said to Katy, “I would rather you should -wear the one they sent. It will become you better. Suppose -you try it on,” and in seeking to gratify her sister, -Helen forgot in part her own cruel disappointment, and -that her work of days had been for naught. The dress -fitted well, though Katy pronounced it too tight and too -long. A few moments, however, accustomed her to the -length, and then her mother, Aunt Hannah, and Aunt -Betsy, came to see and admire, while Katy proposed going -out to Wilford, but Helen kept her back, Aunt Betsy remarking -under her breath, that “she didn’t see for the -life on her how Catherine could be so free and easy with -that man when just the sight of him was enough to take -away a body’s breath.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“More free and easy than she will be by and by,” was -Helen’s mental comment as she proceeded quietly to pack -<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>the trunk which Morris had brought for the voyage across -the sea, dropping into it many a tear as she folded away -one article after another, and wondered under what circumstances -she should see them again if she saw them -ever.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Helen was a Christian girl, and many a time had she -prayed in secret that He who rules the deep would keep -its waters calm and still while her sister was upon them, -and she prayed so now, constantly, burying her face once -in her hands, and asking that Katy might come back to -them unchanged, if possible, and asking next that God -would remove from her heart all bitterness towards the -bridegroom, who was to be her brother, and whom, after -that short, earnest prayer, she found herself liking better. -He loved Katy, she was sure, and that was all she cared -for, though she did wish he would release her before -twelve o’clock on that night, the last she would spend -with them for a long, long time. But Wilford kept her -with him in the parlor, kissing away the tears which -flowed so fast when she recalled the prayer said by Uncle -Ephraim, with her kneeling by him as she might never -kneel again. He had called her by her name, and his -voice was very sad as he commended her to God, asking -that he would “be with our little Katy wherever she -might go, keeping her in all the <em>mewandering</em> scenes of -life, and bringing her at last to his own heavenly home.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford himself was touched, and though he noticed the -deacon’s pronunciation, he did not even smile, and his -manner was very respectful, when, after the prayer was -over and they were alone a moment, the white-haired -deacon felt it incumbent upon him to say a few words -concerning Katy.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She’s a young, rattle-headed creature, not much like -your own kin, I guess; but, young man, she is as dear as -the apple of our eyes, and I charge you to treat her well. -She has never had a crossways word spoke to her all -her life, and don’t you be the first to speak it, nor let -your folks browbeat her.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>As they were alone, it was easier for Wilford to be -humble and conciliatory, and he promised all the old -man required, and then went back to Katy, who was going -<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>into raptures over the beautiful little watch which Morris -had sent over as her bridal gift from him. Even Mrs. -Cameron herself could have found no fault with this, and -Wilford praised it as much as Katy could desire, noticing -the inscription, “Katy, from Cousin Morris, June 10th, -18—” wishing that after the “Katy” had come the name -Cameron, and wondering if Morris had any design in -omitting it. Wilford had not yet presented his father’s -gift, but he did so now, and Katy’s tears dropped upon -the pale, soft pearls as she whispered, “I shall like your -father. I never thought of having things like these.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Nor had she; but she would grow to them very soon, -while even the family gathering round and sharing in her -joy began to realize how great a lady their Katy was to -be. It was late that night ere anybody slept, if sleep at all -they did, which was doubtful, unless it were the bride, -who, with Wilford’s kisses warm upon her lips, crept up -to bed just as the clock was striking twelve, nor awoke -until it was again chiming six, and over her Helen bent, -a dark ring about her eyes and her face very white as she -whispered, “Wake, Katy darling, this is your wedding -day.”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER X.<br> <span class='large'>MARRIAGE AT ST. JOHN’S.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>There were more than a few lookers-on to see Katy -Lennox married, and the church was literally jammed for -full three-quarters of an hour before the appointed time. -Back by the door, where she commanded a full view of -the middle aisle, Marian Hazelton sat, her face as white -as ashes, and her eyes gleaming strangely wild from beneath -the thickly dotted veil she wore over her hat. -Doubts as to her wisdom in coming there were agitating -her mind, but something kept her sitting just as others -sat waiting for the bride until the sexton, opening wide -the doors, and assuming an added air of consequence, -told the anxious spectators that the party had arrived—Uncle -Ephraim and Katy, Wilford and Mrs. Lennox, Dr. -Morris and Helen, Aunt Hannah and Aunt Betsy—that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>was all, and they came slowly up the aisle, while countless -eyes were turned upon them, every woman noticing Katy’s -dress sweeping the carpet with so long a trail, and knowing -by some queer female instinct that it was city-made, -and not the handiwork of Marian Hazelton, panting for -breath in that pew near the door, and trying to forget -herself by watching Dr. Grant. She could not have told -what Katy wore; she would not have sworn that Katy -was there, for she saw only two, Wilford and Morris -Grant. She could have touched the former as he passed -her by, and she did breathe the odor of his garments while -her hands clasped each other tightly, and then she turned -to Morris Grant, growing content with her own pain, so -much less than his as he stood before the altar with Wilford -Cameron between him and the bride which should -have been his. How pretty she was in her wedding garb, -and how like a bird her voice rang out as she responded -to the solemn question,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Will you have this man to be thy wedded husband,” -etc.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Upon Uncle Ephraim devolved the duty of giving her -away, a thing which Aunt Betsy denounced as a “’Piscopal -quirk,” classing it in the same category with dancing. -Still if Ephraim had got it to do she wanted him to do it -well, and she had taken some pains to study that part of -the ceremony, so as to know when to, nudge her brother -in case he failed of coming up to time.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Now, Ephraim, now; they’ve reached the quirk,” she -whispered, audibly, almost before Katy’s “I will” was -heard, clear and distinct; but Ephraim did not need her -prompting, and his hand rested lovingly upon Katy’s -shoulder as he signified his consent, and then fell back -to his place next to Hannah. But when Wilford’s voice -said, “I, Wilford, take thee Katy to be my wedded wife,” -there was a slight confusion near the door, and those -sitting by said to those in front that some one had fainted. -Looking round, the audience saw the sexton leading -Marian Hazelton out into the open air, where, at her -request, he left her, and went back to see the closing of -the ceremony which made Katy Lennox a wife. Morris’s -carriage was at the door, and the newly married pair -<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>moved slowly out, Katy smiling upon all, kissing her hand -to some and whispering a good-bye to others, her diamonds -flashing in the light and her rich silk rustling as -she walked, while at her side was Wilford, proudly erect, -and holding his head so high as not to see one of the crowd -around him, until, arrived at the vestibule, he stopped a -moment and was seized by a young man with curling -hair, saucy eyes, and that air of ease and assurance which -betokens high breeding and wealth.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mark Ray!” was Wilford’s astonished exclamation, -while Mark Ray replied,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You did net expect to see me here, neither did I expect -to come until last night, when I found myself in the -little village where you know Scranton lives. Then it -occurred to me that as Silverton was only a few miles -distant I would drive over and surprise you, but I am too -late for the ceremony, I see,” and Mark’s eyes rested admiringly -upon Katy, whose graceful beauty was fully -equal to what he had imagined.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Very modestly she received his congratulatory greeting, -blushing prettily when he called her by the new name she -had not heard before, and then, at a motion from Wilford, -entered the carriage waiting for her. Close behind -her came Morris and Helen, the former quite as much -astonished at meeting Mark as Wilford had been. There -was no time for conversation, and hurriedly introducing -Helen as Miss Lennox, Morris followed her into the carriage -with the bridal pair, and was driven to the depot, -where they were joined by Mark, whose pleasant good-humored -sallies did much towards making the parting -more cheerful than it would otherwise have been. It -was sad enough at the most, and Katy’s eyes were -very red, while Wilford was beginning to look chagrined -and impatient, when at last the train swept round the -corner and the very last good-bye was said. Many of the -village people were there to see Katy off, and in the crowd -Mark had no means of distinguishing the Barlows from -the others, except it were by the fond caresses given to -the bride. Aunt Betsy he had observed from all the rest, -both from the hanging of her pongee and the general -quaintness of her attire, and thinking it just possible that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>it might be the lady of herrin’ bone memory, he touched -Wilford’s arm as she passed them by, and said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Tell me, Will, quick, who is that woman in the poke -bonnet and short, slim dress?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford was just then too much occupied in his efforts -to rescue Katy from the crowd of plebeians who had seized -upon her to hear his friends query, but Helen heard it, -and with a cheek which crimsoned with anger, she replied,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That, sir, is my aunt, Miss Betsy Barlow.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I beg your pardon, I really do. I was not aware——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mark began, lifting his hat involuntarily, and mentally -cursing himself for his stupidity in not observing who -was near to him before asking personal questions.</p> - -<p class='c011'>With a toss of her head Helen turned away, forgetting -her resentment in the more absorbing thought that Katy -was leaving her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The bell had rung, the heavy machinery groaned and -creaked, and the long train was under way, while from -an open window a little white hand was thrust, waving -its handkerchief until the husband quietly drew it in, experiencing -a feeling of relief that all was over, and that -unless he chose his wife need never go back again to that -vulgar crowd standing upon the platform and looking with -tearful eyes and aching hearts after the fast receding -train.</p> - -<p class='c011'>For a moment Mark talked with Morris Grant, explaining -how he came there, and adding that on the morrow -he too intended going on to Boston, to remain for a few -days before Wilford sailed; then, feeling that he must -in some way atone for his awkward speech regarding Aunt -Betsy, he sought out Helen, still standing like a statue -and watching the feathery line of smoke rising above the -distant trees. Her bonnet had partially fallen from her -head, revealing her bands of rich brown hair and the -smooth broad forehead, while her hands were locked together, -and a tear trembled on her dark eyelashes. Taken -as a whole she made a striking picture standing apart from -the rest and totally oblivious to them all, and Mark gazed -at her a moment curiously; then, as her attitude changed -and she drew her hat back to its place, he advanced toward -<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>her, making some pleasant remark about the morning -and the appearance of the country generally. He -knew he could not openly apologize, but he made what -amends he could by talking to her so familiarly that -Helen almost forgot how she hated him and all others who -like him lived in New York and resembled Wilford Cameron. -It was Mark who led her to the carriage which -Morris said was waiting. Mark who handed her in, -smoothing down the folds of her dress, and then stood -leaning against the door, chatting with Morris, who thought -once of asking him to enter and go back to Linwood. But -when he remembered how unequal he was to entertaining -any one that day, he said merely,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“On your way from Boston, call and see me. I shall -be glad of your company then.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Which means that you do not wish it now,” Mark -laughingly rejoined, as, offering his hand to both Morris -and Helen, he touched his hat and walked away.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XI.<br> <span class='large'>AFTER THE MARRIAGE.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>“Why did you invite him to Linwood?” Helen began. -“I am sure we have had city guests enough. Oh, if -Wilford Cameron had only never come, we should have -had Katy now,” and the sister-love overcame every other -feeling, making Helen cry bitterly as they drove back to -the farm-house.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Morris could not comfort her then, and so in silence -he left her and went on his way to Linwood. It was -well for him that there were many sick ones on his list, -for in attending to them he forgot himself in part, so -that the day with him passed faster than at the farm-house, -where life and its interests seemed suddenly to have -stopped. Nothing had power to rouse Helen, who never -realized how much she loved her young sister until now, -when she listlessly put to rights the room which had been -theirs so long, but which was now hers alone. It was a -sad task picking up that disordered chamber, bearing so -many traces of Katy, and Helen’s heart ached terribly -as she hung away the little pink calico dressing-gown in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>which Katy had looked so prettily, and picked up from -the floor the pile of skirts lying just where they had -been left the previous night; but when it came to the -little half-worn slippers which had been thrown one here -and another there as Katy danced out of them, she could -control herself no longer, and stopping in her work sobbed -bitterly, “Oh, Katy, Katy, how can I live without you!” -But tears could not bring Katy back, and knowing this, -Helen dried her eyes ere long and joined the family below, -who like herself were spiritless and sad.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was some little solace to them all that day to follow -Katy in her journey, saying, she is at Worcester, or -Framingham, or Newton, and when at noon they sat down -to their dinner in the tidy kitchen they said, “She is in -Boston,” and the saying so made the time which had -elapsed since the morning seem interminable. Slowly the -hours dragged, and at last, before the sun-setting, Helen, -who could bear the loneliness of home no longer, stole -across the fields to Linwood, hoping in Morris’s companionship -to forget her own grief in part. But Morris was -a sorry comforter then. He had ministered as usual -to his patients that day, listening to their complaints and -answering patiently their inquiries; but amid it all he -walked as in a maze, hearing nothing except the words, -“I, Katy, take thee, Wilford, to be my wedded husband,” -and seeing nothing but the airy little figure which stood -up on tiptoe for him to kiss its lips at parting. His work -for the day was over now, and he sat alone in his library -when Helen came hurriedly in, starting at sight of his -face, and asking if he was ill.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have had a hard day’s work,” he said. “I am -always tired at night,” and he tried to smile and appear -natural. “Are you very lonely at the farm-house?” he -asked, and then Helen broke out afresh, mourning sometimes -for Katy, and again denouncing Wilford as proud -and heartless.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Positively, Cousin Morris, he acted all the while he -was in the church as if he were doing something of which -he was ashamed; and then did you notice how impatient -he seemed when the neighbors were shaking hands with -Katy at the depot, and bidding her good-bye? He looked -<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>as if he thought they had no right to touch her, she was -so much their superior, just because she had married <em>him</em>, -and he even hurried her away before Aunt Betsy had time -to kiss her. And yet the people think it such a splendid -match for Katy, because he is so rich and generous. Gave -the clergyman fifty dollars and the sexton five, so I -heard; but that does not help him with me. I know it’s -wicked, Morris, but I find myself taking real comfort in -hating Wilford Cameron.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That is wrong, Helen, all wrong,” and Morris tried to -reason with her; but his arguments this time were not -very strong, and he finally said to her, inadvertently, -“If <em>I</em> can forgive Wilford Cameron for marrying our Katy, -you surely ought to do so, for he has hurt <em>me</em> the most.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“<em>You</em>, Morris! <span class='fss'>YOU, YOU!</span>” Helen kept repeating, standing -back still further and further from him, while strange, -overwhelming thoughts passed like lightning through her -mind as she marked the pallid face, where was written -since the morning more than one line of suffering, and -saw in the brown eyes a look such as they were not wont -to wear. “Morris, tell me—tell me truly—did you love -my sister Katy?” and with an impetuous rush Helen -knelt beside him, as, laying his head upon the table he -answered,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, Helen. God forgive me if it were wrong. I <em>did</em> -love your sister Katy, and love her yet, and that is the -hardest to bear.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>All the tender pitying woman was roused in Helen, and -like a sister she smoothed the locks of damp, dark hair, -keeping a perfect silence as the strong man, no longer able -to bear up, wept like a very child. For a time Helen -felt as if bereft of reason, while earth and sky seemed -blended in one wild chaos as she thought, “Oh, why -couldn’t it have been? Why didn’t you tell her in time?” -and at last she said to him, “If Katy had known it! Oh, -Morris, why didn’t you tell her? She never guessed it, -never! If she had—if she had,” Helen’s breath came -chokingly, “I am very sure—yes, I know <em>it might have -been</em>!”</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c013'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Of all sad words of tongue or pen,</div> - <div class='line'>The saddest are these—it might have been.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>Morris involuntarily thought of these lines, but they -only mocked his sorrow as he answered Helen, “I doubt -if you are right; I hope you are not. Katy loved me as -her brother, nothing more, I am confident. Had she -waited till she was older, God only knows what might have -been, but now she is gone and our Father will help me -to bear, will help us both, if we ask him, as we must.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And then, as only he could do, Morris talked with Helen -until she felt her hardness towards Wilford giving way, -while she wondered how Morris could speak so kindly of -one who was his rival.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not of myself could I do it,” Morris said; “but I -trust in One who says ‘As thy day shall thy strength be,’ -and He, you know, never fails.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a fresh bond of sympathy now between -Morris and Helen, and the latter needed no caution against -repeating what she had discovered. The secret was safe -with her, and by dwelling on what “might have been” -she forgot to think so much of what <em>was</em>, and so the first -days after Katy’s departure were more tolerable than she -had thought it possible for them to be. At the close of -the fourth there came a short note from Katy, who was -still in Boston at the Revere, and perfectly happy, she said, -going into ecstasies over her husband, the best in the -world, and certainly the most generous and indulgent. -“Such beautiful things as I am having made,” she wrote, -“when I already had more than I needed, and so I told -him, but he only smiled a queer kind of smile as he said -‘Very true; you do not need them.’ I wonder then why -he gets me more. Oh, I forgot to tell you how much I -like his cousin, Mrs. Harvey, who boards at the Revere, -and whom Wilford consults about my dress. I am somewhat -afraid of her, too, she is so grand, but she pets me -a great deal and laughs at my speeches. Mr. Ray is -here, and I think him splendid.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“By the way, Helen, I heard him tell Wilford that -you had one of the best shaped heads he ever saw, and that -he thought you decidedly good looking. I must tell you -now of the only thing which troubles me in the least, and -I shall get used to that, I suppose. It is so strange Wilford -never told me a word until she came. Think of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>little Katy Lennox with a waiting-maid, who jabbers -French half the time, for she speaks that language as well -as her own, having been abroad with the family once -before. That is why they sent her to me; they knew her -services would be invaluable in Paris. Her name is Esther, -and she came the day after we did, and brought me such -a beautiful mantilla from Wilford’s mother, and the -loveliest dress. Just the pattern was fifty dollars, she -said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The steamer sails in three days, and I will write again -before that time, sending it by Mr. Ray, who is to stop -over one train at Linwood. Wilford has just come in, and -says I have written enough for now, but I must tell you -he has bought me a diamond pin and ear-rings, which -Esther, who knows the value of everything, says never -cost less than five hundred dollars.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Your loving,</div> - <div class='line in12'><span class='sc'>Katy Cameron</span>.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c011'>“Five hundred dollars!” and Aunt Betsy held up her -hands in horror, while Helen sat a long time with the -letter in her hand, cogitating upon its contents, and especially -upon the part referring to herself, and what Mark -Ray had said of her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Every human heart is susceptible of flattery, and Helen’s -was not an exception. Still with her ideas of city men she -could not at once think favorably of Mark Ray, just for a -few complimentary words which might or might not have -been in earnest, and she found herself looking forward -with nervous dread to the time when he would stop at -Linwood, and of course call on her, as he would bring a -letter from Katy.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Very sadly to the inmates of the farm-house rose the -morning of the day when Katy was to sail, and as if they -could really see the tall masts of the vessel which was to -bear her away, the eyes of the whole family were turned -often to the eastward with a wistful, anxious gaze, while -on their lips and in their hearts were earnest prayers for -the safety of that ship and the precious freight it bore. -But hours, however sad, will wear themselves away, and -so the day went on, succeeded by the night, until that too -<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>had passed and another day had come, the second of -Katy’s ocean life. At the farm-house the work was all -done up, and Helen in her neat gingham dress, with her -bands of brown hair bound about her head, sat sewing, -when she was startled by the sound of wheels, and looking -up saw the boy employed to carry packages from the express -office, driving to their door with a trunk, which he -said had come that morning from Boston.</p> - -<p class='c011'>In some surprise Helen hastened to unlock it with the -key which she found appended to it. The trunk was full, -and over the whole a linen towel was folded, while on the -top of that lay a letter in Katy’s handwriting, directed -to Helen, who, sitting down upon the floor, broke the seal -and read aloud as follows:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Boston, June</span>—, Revere House</div> - <div class='line in4'>“Nearly midnight.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c011'>“<span class='sc'>My Dear Sister Helen</span>:—I have just come in from -a little party given by one of Mrs. Harvey’s friends, and -I am <em>so</em> tired, for you know I am not accustomed to such -late hours. The party was very pleasant indeed, and -everybody was so kind to me, especially Mr. Ray, who -stood by me all the time, and who somehow seemed to -help me, so that I knew just what to do, and was not awkward -at all. I hope not, at least for Wilford’s sake.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You do not know how grand and dignified he is here -in Boston among his own set; he is so different from what -he was in Silverton that I should be afraid of him if I -did not know how much he loves me. He shows that in -every action, and I am perfectly happy, except when I -think that to-morrow night at this time I shall be on the -sea, going away from you all. Here it does not seem far -to Silverton, and I often look towards home, wondering -what you are doing, and if you miss me any. I wish -I could see you once before I go, just to tell you all how -much I love you—more than I ever did before, I am sure.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And now I come to the trunk. I know you will be -surprised at its contents, but you cannot be more so than -I was when Wilford said I must pack them up and send -them back—all the dresses you and Marion made.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, oh no!” and Helen felt her strength leave her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>wrists in one sudden throb as the letter dropped from her -hand, while she tore off the linen covering and saw for -herself that Katy had written truly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She could not weep then, but her face was white as -marble as she again took up the letter and commenced at -the point where she had broken off.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It seems that people traveling in Europe do not need -many things, but what they have must be just right, and -so Mrs. Cameron wrote for Mrs. Harvey to see to my -wardrobe, and if I had not exactly what was proper she -was to procure it. It is very funny that she did not find -a single proper garment among them all, when we thought -them so nice. They were not just the style, she said, and -that was very desirable in Mrs. Wilford Cameron. Somehow -she tries to impress me with the idea that <em>Mrs. Wilford -Cameron</em> is a very different person from little Katy -Lennox, but I can see no difference except that I am a great -deal happier and have Wilford all the time.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, as I was telling you, I was measured and fitted, -and my figure praised, until my head was nearly turned, -only I did not like the horrid stays they put on me, -squeezing me up and making me feel so stiff. Mrs. Harvey -says no lady does without them, expressing much surprise -that I had never worn them, and so I submit to the powers -that be; but every chance I get here in my room I take -them off and throw them on the floor, where Wilford has -stumbled over them two or three times.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“This afternoon the dresses came home, and they do -look beautifully, while every one has belt, and gloves, and -ribbons, and sashes, and laces or muslins to match—fashionable -people are so particular about these things. I have -tried them on, and except that I think them too tight, -they fit admirably, and <em>do</em> give me a different air from -what Miss Hazelton’s did. But I really believe I like the -old ones best, because <em>you</em> helped to make them; and when -Wilford said I must send them home, I went where he -could not see me and cried, because—well, I hardly know -why I cried, unless I feared you might feel badly. Dearest -Helen, don’t, will you? I love you just as much, and -shall remember you the same as if I wore the dresses. -Dearest sister, I can fancy the look that will come on your -<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>face, and I wish I could be present to kiss it away. Imagine -me there, will you? with my arms around your neck, -and tell mother not to mind. Tell her I never loved her -so well as now, and that when I come home from Europe -I shall bring her ever so many things. There is a new -black silk for her in the trunk, and one for each of the -aunties, while for you there is a lovely brown, which Wilford -said was just your style, telling me to select as nice -a silk as I pleased, and this he did, I think, because he -guessed I had been crying. He asked what made my eyes -so red, and when I would not tell him he took me with -him to the silk store and bade me get what I liked. -Oh, he is the dearest, kindest husband, and I love -him all the more because I am the least bit afraid of -him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And now I must stop, for Wilford says so. Dear -Helen, dear all of you, I can’t help crying as I say good-bye. -Remember little Katy, and if she ever did anything -bad, don’t lay it up against her. Kiss Morris and Uncle -Ephraim, and say how much I love them. Darling sister, -darling mother, good-bye.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This was Katy’s letter, and it brought a gush of tears -from the four women remembered so lovingly in it, the -mother and the aunts stealing away to weep in secret, -without ever stopping to look at the new dresses sent to -them by Wilford Cameron. They were very soft, very -handsome, especially Helen’s rich golden brown, and as -she looked at it she felt a thrill of satisfaction in knowing -it was hers, but this quickly passed as she took out one -by one the garments she had folded with so much care, -wondering when Katy would wear each one and where she -would be.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She will never wear them, never—they are not fine -enough for her now!” she exclaimed, and as she just -then came upon the little plaid, she laid her head upon -the trunk lid, while her tears dropped like rain in among -the discarded articles condemned by Wilford Cameron.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It seemed to her like Katy’s grave, and she was sobbing -bitterly, when a step sounded outside the window, and -a voice called her name. It was Morris, and lifting up -her head Helen said passionately,</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>“Oh, Morris, look! he has sent back all Katy’s clothes, -which you bought and I worked so hard to make. They -were not good enough for his wife to wear, and so he insulted -us. Oh, Katy, I never fully realized till now how -wholly she is lost to us!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Helen, Helen,” Morris kept saying, trying to stop her, -for close behind him was Mark Ray, who heard her distinctly, -and glancing in, saw her kneeling before the -trunk, her pale face stained with tears, and her dark eyes -shining with excitement.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mark Ray understood it at once, feeling indignant at -Wilford for thus unnecessarily wounding the sensitive girl, -whose expression, as she sat there upon the floor, with her -face upturned to Morris, haunted him for months. Mark -was sorry for her—so sorry that his first impulse was to go -quietly away, and so spare her the mortification of knowing -that he had witnessed that little scene; but it was now -too late. As she finished speaking her eye fell on him, and -coloring scarlet she struggled to her feet, and covering -her face with her hands wept still more violently. Mark -was in a dilemma, and whispered softly to Morris, “I -think I will leave. You can tell her all I had to say;” but -Helen heard him, and mastering her agitation, she said -to him,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Please, Mr. Ray, don’t go—not yet at least, not till -I have asked you of Katy. Did you see her off? Has -she gone?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Thus importuned Mark Ray came in, and sitting down -where his boot almost touched the new brown silk, he -very politely began to answer her rapid questions, putting -her entirely at her ease by his pleasant, affable manner, -and making her forget the littered appearance of the room, -as she listened to his praises of her sister, who, he said, -seemed so very happy, and attracted universal admiration -wherever she went. No allusion whatever was made to -the trunk during the time of Mark’s stay, which was not -long. If he took the next train to New York, he had -but an hour more to spend, and feeling that Helen would -rather he should spend it at Linwood he soon arose to go. -Offering his hand to Helen, there passed from his eyes -into hers a look which had over her a strangely quieting -<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>influence, and prepared her for a remark which otherwise -might have seemed out of place.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have known Wilford Cameron for years; he is my -best friend, and I respect him as a brother. In some -things he may be peculiar, but he will make your sister -a kind husband. He loves her devotedly, I know, choosing -her from the throng of ladies who would gladly have -taken her place. I hope you will like him for <em>my</em> sake as -well as Katy’s.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>His warm hand unclasped from Helen’s, and with another -good-bye he was gone, without seeing either Mrs. -Lennox, Aunt Hannah or Aunt Betsy. This was not the -time for extending his acquaintance, he knew, and he -went away with Morris, feeling that the farm-house, so -far as he could judge, was not exactly what Wilford had -pictured it. “But then he came for a wife, and I did -not,” he thought, while Helen’s face came before him as it -looked up to Morris, and he wondered, were he obliged to -choose between the sisters, which he should prefer. During -the few days passed in Boston he had become more than -half in love with Katy himself, almost envying his friend -the pretty little creature he had won. She was very -beautiful and very fascinating in her simplicity, but there -was something in Helen’s face more attractive than -mere beauty, and Mark said to Morris as they walked -along,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Miss Lennox is not much like her sister.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not much, no; but Helen is a splendid girl—more -strength of character, perhaps, than Katy, who is younger -than her years even. She has always been petted from -babyhood; it will take time or some great sorrow to show -what she really is.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This was Morris’s reply, and the two then proceeded on -in silence until they reached the boundary line between -Morris’s farm and Uncle Ephraim’s, where they found the -deacon mending a bit of broken fence, his coat lying on -a pile of stones, and his wide, blue cotton trowsers hanging -loosely around him. When told who Mark was, and -that he brought news of Katy, he greeted him cordially, -and sitting down upon his fence listened to all Mark had -to say. Between the old and young man there seemed at -<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>once a mutual liking, the former saying to himself as -Mark went on, and he resumed his work,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I most wish it was this chap with Katy on the sea. -I like his looks the best,” while Mark’s thoughts were,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Will need not be ashamed of that man, though I don’t -suppose <em>I</em> should really want him coming suddenly in -among a drawing-room full of guests.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Morris did not feel much like entertaining Mark, but -Mark was fully competent to entertain himself, and -thought the hour spent at Linwood a very pleasant one, -half wishing for some excuse to tarry longer; but there -was none, and so at the appointed time he bade Morris -good-bye and went on his way to New York.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XII.<br> <span class='large'>FIRST MONTHS OF MARRIED LIFE.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>If Katy’s letters, written, one on board the steamer and -another from London, were to be trusted, she was as -nearly perfectly happy as a young bride well can be, and -the people at the farm-house felt themselves more and -more kindly disposed towards Wilford Cameron with each -letter received. They were going soon into the northern -part of England, and from thence into Scotland, Katy -wrote from London, and two weeks after found them comfortably -settled at the inn at Alnwick, near to Alnwick -Castle. Wilford had seemed very anxious to get there, -leaving London before Katy was quite ready, and hurrying -across the country until Alnwick was reached. He had -been there before, years ago, he said, but no one seemed -to recognize him, though all paid due respect to the distinguished -looking American and his beautiful young wife. -An entrance into Alnwick Castle was easily obtained, and -Katy felt that all her girlish dreams of grandeur and -magnificence were more than realized here in this home of -the Percys, where ancient and modern styles of architecture -and furnishing were so blended together. She would -never tire of that place, she thought, but Wilford’s taste -led him elsewhere, and he took more delight in wandering -around St. Mary’s church, which stood upon a hill commanding -a view of the castle and of the surrounding -<span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>country for miles away. Here Katy also came, rambling -with him through the village grave-yard where slept the -dust of centuries, the grey, mossy tomb-stones bearing -date backward for more than a hundred years, their quaint -inscriptions both puzzling and amusing Katy, who studied -them by the hour.</p> - -<p class='c011'>One quiet summer morning, however, when the heat -was unusually great, she felt too listless to wander about, -and so sat upon the grass, listening to the birds as they -sang above her head, while Wilford, at some distance from -her, stood leaning against a tree and thinking sad, regretful -thoughts, as his eye rested upon the rough headstone -at his feet.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Genevra Lambert, aged 22,” was the lettering upon -it, and as he read it a feeling of reproach was in his -heart, while he said, “I hope I am not glad to know that -she is dead.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He had come to Alnwick for the sole purpose of finding -that humble grave—of assuring himself that after life’s -fitful fever, Genevra Lambert slept quietly, forgetful of -the wrong once done to her by him. 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. But the task was harder -now than before. Katy was so happy with him, trusting -his love so fully that he dared not lift the veil and read to -her that page hinted at once in Silverton, when they sat -beneath the butternut tree, with the fresh young grass -springing around them. Then she was not his wife, and -the fear that she would not be if he told her all had kept -him silent, but now she was his alone; nothing could undo -that, and there, in the shadow of the grey old church -through whose aisles Genevra had been borne out to where -the rude headstone was gleaming in the English sunlight, -it seemed meet that he should tell the sad story. And Katy -would have forgiven him then, for not a shadow of regret -had darkened her life since it was linked with his, and in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>her perfect love she could have pardoned much. But Wilford -did not tell. It was not needful, he made himself -believe—not necessary for her ever to know that once he -met a maiden called Genevra, almost as beautiful as she, -but never so beloved. <em>No, never.</em> Wilford said that truly, -when that night he bent over his sleeping Katy, comparing -her face with Genevra’s, and his love for her with his -love for Genevra.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford was very fond of his girlish wife, and very -proud of her, too, when strangers paused, as they often did, -to look back after her. Thus far nothing had arisen to -mar the happiness of his first weeks of married life, except -the letters from Silverton, over which Katy always cried, -until he sometimes wished that the family could not write. -But they could and they did; even Aunt Betsy inclosed in -Helen’s letter a note, wonderful both in orthography and -composition, and concluding with the remark that “she -would be glad when Catherine returned and was settled -in a home of her own, as she would then have a new -place to visit.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a dark frown on Wilford’s face, and for a moment -he felt tempted to withhold the note from Katy, but -this he could not do then, so he gave it into her bands, -watching her as with burning cheeks, she read it through, -and asking her at its close why she looked so red.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, Wilford,” and she crept closely to him, “Aunt -Betsy spells so queerly, that I was wishing you would not -always open my letters first. Do all husbands do so?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was the only time Katy had ventured to question a -single act of his, submitting without a word to whatever -was his will. Wilford knew that his father would never -have presumed to break a seal belonging to his mother, -but he had broken Katy’s, and he should continue breaking -them, so he answered, laughingly,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, yes, I guess they do. My little wife has surely -no secrets to hide from me?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No secrets,” Katy answered, “only I did not want -you to see Aunt Betsy’s letter, that’s all.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I did not marry Aunt Betsy—I married you,” was -Wilford’s reply, which meant far more than Katy guessed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>With three thousand miles between him and his wife’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>relatives, Wilford could endure to think of them; but whenever -letters came to Katy bearing the Silverton postmark, -he was conscious of a far different sensation from what he -experienced when the postmark was New York and the -handwriting that of his own family. But not in any way -did this feeling manifest itself to Katy, who, as she always -wrote to Helen, was very, very happy, and never more -so, perhaps, than while they were at Alnwick, where, as -if he had something for which to atone, he was unusually -kind and indulgent, caressing her with unwonted tenderness, -and making her ask him once if he loved her a great -deal more now than when they were first married.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, darling, a great deal more,” was Wilford’s answer, -as he kissed her upturned face, and then went for the -last time to Genevra’s grave; for on the morrow they were -to leave the neighborhood of Alnwick for the heather -blooms of Scotland.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a trip to Edinburgh, a stormy passage across -the Straits of Dover, a two months’ sojourn in Paris, and -then they went to Rome, where Wilford intended to pass -the winter, journeying in the spring through different parts -of Europe. He was in no haste to return to America; -he would rather stay where he could have Katy all to himself, -away from her family and his own. But it was not -so to be, and not very long after his arrival at Rome -there came a letter from his mother apprising him of his -father’s dangerous illness, and asking him to come home at -once. The elder Cameron had not been well since Wilford -left the country, and the physician was fearful that -the disease had assumed a consumptive form, Mrs. Cameron -wrote, adding that her husband’s only anxiety was -to see his son again. To this there was no demur, and -about the first of December, six months from the time -he had sailed, Wilford arrived in Boston, having taken a -steamer for that city. His first act was to telegraph for -news of his father, receiving in reply that he was better; -the alarming symptoms had disappeared, and there was -now great hope of his recovery.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We might have stayed longer in Europe,” Katy said, -feeling a little chill of disappointment—not that her -father-in-law was better, but at being called home for -<span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>nothing, when her life abroad was so happy and free from -care.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Somehow the atmosphere of America seemed different -from what it used to be. It was colder, bluer, the little -lady said, tapping her foot uneasily and looking from her -windows at the Revere out upon the snowy streets, through -which the wintry wind was blowing in heavy gales.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, it is a heap colder,” she sighed, as she returned -to the large chair which Esther had drawn for her before -the cheerful fire, charging her disquiet to the weather, -but never dreaming of imputing it to her husband, who -was far more its cause than was the December cold.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He, too, though glad of his father’s improvement, was -sorry to have been recalled for nothing to a country which -brought his old life back again, with all its forms and -ceremonies, and revived his dread lest Katy should not -acquit herself as was becoming Mrs. Wilford Cameron. -In his selfishness he had kept her almost wholly to himself, -so that the polish she was to acquire from her travels -abroad was not as perceptible as he could desire. Katy -was Katy still, in spite of London, Paris, or Rome. To -be sure there was about her a little more maturity and -self-assurance, but in all essential points she was the same: -and Wilford winced as he thought how the free, impulsive -manner which, among the Scottish hills, where there was -no one to criticize, had been so charming to him, would -shock his lady mother and sister Juno. And this it was -which made him moody and silent, replying hastily to -Katy when she said to him, “Please, Wilford, telegraph -to Helen to be with mother at the West depot when we -pass there to-morrow. The train stops five minutes, you -know, and I want to see them so much. Will you, Wilford?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She had come up to him now, and was standing behind -him, with her hands upon his shoulder; so she did not see -the expression of his face as he answered quickly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, yes.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>A moment after he quitted the room, and it was then -that Katy, standing before the window, charged the day -with what was strictly Wilford’s fault. Returning at last -to her chair she went off into a reverie as to the new -<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>home to which she was going and the new friends she was -to meet, wondering what they would think of her, and if -they would like her. Once she had said to Wilford,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Which of your sisters shall I like best?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And Wilford had answered her by asking,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Which do you like best, <em>books</em> or going to parties in -full dress?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, parties and dress,” Katy had said, and Wilford -had then rejoined,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You will like Juno best, for she is all fashion and -gayety, while Blue-Bell prefers her books and the quiet -of her own room.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy felt afraid of Bell, and in fact, now that they -were so near, she felt afraid of them all, notwithstanding -Esther’s assurances that they could not help loving her. -During the six months they had been together Esther had -learned to feel for her young lady that strong affection -which sometimes exists between mistress and servant. -Everything which she could do for her she did, smoothing -as much as possible the meeting which she also dreaded, -for though the Camerons were too proud to express before -her their opinion of Wilford’s choice, she had guessed it -readily, and pitied the young wife brought up with ideas -so different from those of her husband’s family. More -accustomed to Wilford’s moods than Katy, she saw that -something was the matter, and it prompted her to unusual -attentions, stirring the fire into a cheerful blaze and bringing -a stool for Katy, who, in blissful ignorance of her -husband’s real feelings, sat waiting his return from the -telegraph office whither she supposed he had gone, and -building pleasant pictures of to-morrow’s meeting with her -mother and Helen, and possibly Dr. Morris, if not Uncle -Ephraim himself.</p> - -<p class='c011'>So absorbed was she in her reverie as not to hear -Wilford’s step as he came in, but when he stood behind -her and took her head playfully between his hands, she -started up, feeling that the weather had changed; it was -not as cold and dreary in Boston as she imagined, and -laying her head on Wilford’s shoulder, she said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You went out to telegraph, didn’t you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He had gone out with the intention of telegraphing as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>she desired, but in the hall below he had met with an -old acquaintance who talked with him so long that he -entirely forgot his errand until Katy recalled it to his -mind, making him feel very uncomfortable as he frankly -told her of his forgetfulness.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It is too late now,” he added, “besides you could -only see them for a moment, just long enough to make -you cry—a thing I do not greatly desire, inasmuch as I -wish my wife to look her best when I present her to my -family, and with red eyes she couldn’t, you know.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy knew it was settled, and choking back the tears, -she tried to listen, while Wilford, having fairly broken -the ice with regard to his family, told her how anxious -he was that she should make a good first impression -upon his mother. Did Katy remember that Mrs. Morey -whom they met at Paris, and could she not throw a little -of <em>her air</em> into her manner, that is, could she not drop -her girlishness when in the presence of others and be a -little more dignified? When alone with him he liked to -have her just what she was, a loving, affectionate little -wife, but the world looked on such things differently. -Would Katy try?</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford when he commenced had no definite idea as -to what he should say, and without meaning it he made -Katy moan piteously.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t know what you mean. I would do anything -if I knew how. Tell me, how <em>shall</em> I be dignified?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was crying so hard that Wilford, while mentally -calling himself a fool and a brute, could only try to comfort -her, telling her she need not be anything but what -she was—that his mother and sisters would love her just -as he did—and that daily association with them would -teach her all that was necessary.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy’s tears were stopped at last; but the frightened, -anxious look did not leave her face, even though Wilford -tried his best to divert her mind. A nervous terror of -her new relations had gained possession of her heart, -and nearly the entire night she lay awake, pondering in -her mind what Wilford had said, and thinking how terrible -it would be if he should be disappointed in her -after all. The consequence of this was that a very white -<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>tired face sat opposite Wilford next morning at the breakfast -served in their private parlor; nor did it look much -fresher even after they were in the cars and rolling out of -Boston. But when Worcester was reached, and the old -home way-marks began to grow familiar, the color came -stealing back, until the cheeks burned with an unnatural -red, and the blue eyes fairly danced as they rested on the -hills of Silverton.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Only three miles from mother and Helen! Oh, if I -could go there!” Katy thought, working her fingers nervously; -but the express train did not pause there, and it -went so swiftly by the depot that Katy could hardly distinguish -who was standing there, whether friend or stranger.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But when at last they came to West Silverton, and the -long train slowly stopped, the first object she saw was -Dr. Morris, driving down from the village. He had no -intention of going to the depot, and only checked his -horse a moment, lest it should prove restive if too near -the engine; but when a clear young voice called from the -window, “Morris! oh, Cousin Morris! I’ve come!” his -heart gave a great throb, for he knew whose voice it was -and whose the little hand beckoning to him. He had -supposed her far away beneath Italian skies, for at the -farm-house no intelligence had been received of her intended -return, and in much surprise he reined up to the -rear door, and throwing his lines to a boy, went forward -to where Katy stood, her face glowing with delight as -she flew into his arms, wholly forgetful of the last night’s -lecture on dignity, and also forgetful of Wilford, standing -close beside her. He had not tried to hold her back -when, at the sight of Morris, she sprang away from him; -but he followed after, biting his lip, and wishing she had -a little more discretion. Surely it was not necessary to -half strangle Dr. Grant as she was doing, kissing his -hand after she had kissed his face a full half dozen times, -and all the people looking on. But Katy did not care -for people. She only knew that Morris was there—the -Morris whom, in her great happiness abroad, she had -perhaps slighted by not writing directly to him but once. -In Wilford’s sheltering care she had not felt the need of -this good cousin, as she used to do; but she was so glad -<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>to see him, wondering why he looked so thin and sad. -Was he sick? she asked, with a pitying look, which made -him shiver as he answered,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, not sick, though tired, perhaps, as I have at -present an unusual amount of work to do.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And this was true—he was unusually busy. But that -was not the cause of his thin face, which others than -Katy remarked. Helen’s words, “It might have been,” -spoken to him on the night of Katy’s bridal, had never left -his mind, much as he had tried to dislodge them. Some -men can love a dozen times; but it was not so with Morris. -He could overcome his love so that it should not be a sin, -but no other could ever fill the place where Katy had been; -and as he looked along the road through life he felt that -he must travel it alone. Truly, if Katy were not yet -passing through the fire, he was, and it had left its mark -upon him, purifying as it burned, and bringing his every -act into closer submission to his God. Only Helen and -Marian Hazelton interpreted aright that look upon his -face, and knew it came from the hunger of his heart, but -they kept silence; while others said that he was working -far too hard, urging him to abate his unwearied labors, -for they would not lose their young physician yet. But -Morris smiled his patient, kindly smile on all their fears -and went his way, doing his work as one who knew he must -render strict account for the popularity he was daily -gaining, both in his own town and those around. He -could think of Katy now without a sin, but he was not -thinking of her when she came so unexpectedly upon him, -and for an instant she almost bore his breath away in her -vehement joy.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Quick to note a change in those he knew, he saw that -her form was not quite so full, nor her cheeks so round; -but she was weary with the voyage, and knowing how -sea-sickness will wear upon one’s strength, Morris imputed -it wholly to that, and believed she was, as she -professed to be, perfectly happy.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Come, Katy, we must go now,” Wilford said, as the -bell rang its first alarm, and the passengers, some with -sandwiches and some with fried cakes in their hands, ran -back to find their seats.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>“Yes, I know, but I have not asked half I meant to. -Oh, how I want to go home with you, Morris,” Katy exclaimed, -again throwing her arms around the doctor’s -neck as she bade him good-bye, and sent fresh messages -of love to the friends at home, who, had they known she -was to be there at that time, would have walked the -entire distance for the sake of looking once more into -her dear face.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I intended to have brought them heaps of things,” -she said, “but we came home so suddenly I had no time. -Here, take Helen this. Tell her it is <em>real</em>,” and the -impulsive creature drew from her finger a small diamond -set in black enamel, which Wilford had bought in -Paris.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She did not need it; she had two more, and she was -sure Wilford would not mind,” she said, turning to him -for his approbation.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Wilford did mind, and his face indicated as much, -although he tried to be natural as he replied, “Certainly, -send it if you like.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>In her excitement Katy did not observe it, but Morris -did, and he at first declined taking it, saying Helen had -no use for it, and would be better pleased with something -not half as valuable. Katy, however, insisted, appealing -to Wilford, who, ashamed of his first emotion, now seemed -quite as anxious as Katy herself, until Morris placed -the ring in his purse, and then bade Katy hasten or she -would certainly be left. One more wave of the hand, -one more kiss thrown from the window, and the train -moved on, Katy feeling like a different creature for having -seen some one from home.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am so glad I saw him—so glad I sent the ring, for -now they will know I am the same Katy Lennox, and -I think Helen sometimes feared I might get proud with -you,” she said, while Wilford pulled her rich fur around -her, smiling to see how bright and pretty she was looking -since that meeting with Dr. Grant. “It was better -than medicine,” Katy said, when beyond Springfield he -referred to it a second time, and leaning her head upon -his shoulder she fell into a refreshing sleep, from which -she did not waken until New York was reached, and Wilford, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>lifting her gently up, whispered to her, “Come, -darling, we are home at last.”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XIII.<br> <span class='large'>KATY’S FIRST EVENING IN NEW YORK.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>The elder Cameron was really better, and more than -once he had regretted recalling his son, who he knew had -contemplated a longer stay abroad. But that could not -now be helped. Wilford had arrived in Boston, as his -telegram of yesterday announced—he would be at home to-day; -and No.—— Fifth Avenue was all the morning and a -portion of the afternoon the scene of unusual excitement, -for both Mrs. Cameron and her daughters wished to give -the six months’ wife a good impression of her new -home. At first they thought of inviting company to -dinner, but to this the father objected. “Katy should -not be troubled the first day,” he said; “it was bad -enough for her to meet them all; they could ask Mark if -they chose, but no one else.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And so only Mark Ray was invited to the dinner, gotten -up as elaborately as if a princess had been expected -instead of little Katy, trembling in every joint when, -about four <span class='fss'>P. M.</span>, Wilford awoke her at the depot and -whispered, “Come, darling, we are home at last.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why do you shiver so?” he asked, wrapping her -cloak around her, and almost lifting her from the car.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t—know. I guess—I’m cold,” and Katy drew -a long breath as she thought of Silverton and the farm-house, -wishing that she was going into its low-walled -kitchen, instead of the handsome carriage, where the -cushions were so soft and yielding, and the whole effect -so grand.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What would our folks say?” she kept repeating to -herself as she drove along the streets, where they were -beginning to light the street lamps, for the December -day was dark and cloudy. It seemed so like a dream, -that she, who once had picked huckle-berries on the Silverton -hills, and bound coarse heavy shoes to buy herself -a pink gingham dress, should now be riding in her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>carriage toward the home which she knew was magnificent; -and Katy’s tears fell like rain as, nestling close to -Wilford, who asked what was the matter, she whispered, -“I can hardly believe that it is I—it is so unreal.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Please don’t cry,” Wilford rejoined, brushing her -tears away. “You know I don’t like your eyes to be -red.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>With a great effort Katy kept her tears back, and was -very calm when they reached the brown-stone front, far -enough up town to save it from the slightest approach -to plebeianism. In the hall the chandelier was burning, -and as the carriage stopped a flame of light seemed suddenly -to burst from every window as the gas heads were -turned up, so that Katy caught glimpses of rich silken curtains -and costly lace as she went up the steps, clinging -to Wilford and looking ruefully around for Esther, who -had disappeared through the basement door. Another -moment and they stood within the marbled hall, Katy -conscious of nothing definite—nothing but a vague atmosphere -of refined elegance, and that a richly-dressed -lady came out to meet them, kissing Wilford quietly and -calling him her son; that the same lady turned to her -saying kindly, “And this is my new daughter?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then Katy came to life, and did that, at the very -thought of which she shuddered when a few months’ experience -had taught her the temerity of the act—she -wound her arms impulsively around Mrs. Cameron’s neck, -rumpling her point lace collar, and sadly displacing the -coiffure of the astonished lady, who had seldom received -so genuine a greeting as that which Katy gave her, kissing -her lips and whispering softly, “I love you now, because -you are Wilford’s mother, but by and by because -you are mine. And you <em>will</em> love me some because I am -his wife.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford was horrified, particularly when he saw how -startled his mother looked as she tried to release herself -and adjust her tumbled head-gear. It was not what he -had hoped, nor what his mother had expected, for she -was unaccustomed to such demonstrations; but under -the circumstances Katy could not have done better. There -was a tender spot in Mrs. Cameron’s heart, and Katy -<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>touched it, making her feel a throb of affection for the -childish creature suing for her love.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, darling, I love you now,” she said, removing -Katy’s clinging arms and taking care that they should -not enfold her a second time. “You are tired and cold,” -she continued; “and had better go at once to your rooms. -I will send Esther up. There is plenty of time to dress -for dinner,” and with a wave of her hand she dismissed -Katy up the stairs, noticing as she went the exquisite -softness of her fur cloak; but thinking it too heavy a -garment for her slight figure, and noticing, too, the graceful -ankle and foot which the little high-heeled gaiter -showed to good advantage. “I did not see her face -distinctly, but she has a well-turned instep and walks -easily,” was the report she carried to her daughters, -who, in their own room over Katy’s, were dressing for -dinner.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She will undoubtedly make a good dancer, then, unless, -like Dr. Grant, she is too blue for that,” Juno said, -while Bell shrugged her shoulders, congratulating herself -that she had a mind above such frivolous matters as -dancing and well-turned insteps, and wondering if Katy -cared in the least for books.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Couldn’t you see her face at all, mother?” Juno -asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Scarcely; but the glimpse I did get was satisfactory. -I think she is pretty.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And this was all the sisters could ascertain until their -toilets were finished, and they went down into the library, -where their brother waited for them, kissing them both -affectionately, and complimenting them on their good looks.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I wish we could say the same of you,” Juno answered, -playfully pulling his moustache; “but upon my word, -Will, you are fast settling down into an oldish married -man, even turning gray,” and she ran her fingers through -his dark hair, where there was now and then a thread of -silver. “Disappointed in your domestic relations, eh?” -she continued, looking him archly in the face.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford was rather proud of his good looks, and during -his sojourn aboard, Katy had not helped him any in overcoming -this weakness, but on the contrary, had fed his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>vanity by constant flattery. And still he was himself conscious -of not looking quite as well as usual just now, for -the sea voyage had tired him as well as Katy, but he did -not care to be told of it, and Juno’s ill-timed remarks -roused him at once, particularly as they reflected somewhat -on Katy.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I assure you I am not disappointed,” he answered, -“and the six months of my married life have been the happiest -I ever knew. Katy is more than I expected her to -be.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Juno elevated her eyebrows slightly, but made no direct -reply, while Bell began to ask about Paris and the places -he had visited.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Meanwhile Katy had been ushered into her room, which -was directly over the library, and separated from Mrs. -Cameron’s only by a range of closets and presses, a portion -of which were to be appropriated to her own use. -Great pains had been taken to make her rooms attractive, -and as the large bay window in the library below extended -to the third story, it was really the pleasantest chamber in -the house. To Katy it was perfect, and her first exclamation -was one of delight.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, how pleasant, how beautiful!” she cried, skipping -across the soft carpet to the warm fire blazing in the grate. -“A bay window, too, when I like them so much. I shall -be happy here.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But happy as she was, Katy could not help feeling tired, -and she sank into one of the luxurious easy-chairs, wishing -she could stay there all the evening instead of going down -to that formidable dinner with her new relations. How -she dreaded it, especially when she remembered that Mrs. -Cameron had said there would be plenty of time to <em>dress</em>—a -thing which Katy hated, the process was so tiresome, -particularly to-night. Surely her handsome traveling -dress, made in Paris, was good enough, and she was about -settling in her own mind to venture upon wearing it, when -Esther demolished her castle at once.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Wear your traveling habit!” she exclaimed, “when -the young ladies, especially Miss Juno, are so particular -about their dinner costume. There would be no end to -the scolding I should get for suffering it,” and she began -<span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>good-naturedly to remove her mistress’s collar and pin, -while Katy, standing up, sighed as she said, “I wish I -was in Silverton to-night. I could wear anything there. -What must I put on? How I dread it!” and she began to -shiver again.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Fortunately for Katy, Esther had been in the family -long enough to know just what they regarded proper, as -by this means the dress selected was sure to please. It -was very becoming to Katy, and having been made in -Paris was not open to criticism.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Very pretty indeed,” was Mrs. Cameron’s verdict, -when at half-past five she came in to see her daughter, -kissing her cheek and stroking her head, wholly unadorned -except by the short, silken curls which could not be coaxed -to grow faster than they chose, and which had sometimes -annoyed Wilford, they made his wife seem so young beside -him. Mrs. Cameron was annoyed, too, for she had no -idea of a head except as it was connected with a hair-dresser, -and her annoyance showed itself as she asked,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Did you have your hair cut on purpose?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But when Katy explained, she answered pleasantly,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Never mind, it is a fault which will mend every day, -only it makes you look like a child.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am eighteen and a half,” Katy said, feeling a lump -rising in her throat, for she guessed that her mother-in-law -was not quite pleased with her hair.</p> - -<p class='c011'>For herself, she liked it, it was so easy to brush and -fix. She should go wild if she had to submit to all Esther -had told her of hair-dressing and what it involved.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mrs. Cameron had asked if she would not like to see -Mr. Cameron, the elder, before going down to dinner, and -Katy had answered that she would; so as soon as Esther -had smoothed a refractory fold and brought her handkerchief, -she followed to the room where Wilford’s father was -sitting. He might not have felt complimented could he -have known that something in his appearance reminded -Katy of Uncle Ephraim. He was not nearly as old or as -tall, nor was his hair as white, but the resemblance, if -there were any, lay in the smile with which he greeted -Katy, calling her his youngest child, and drawing her -closely to him.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>It was remarked of Mr. Cameron that since their babyhood -he had never kissed one of his own children; but -when Katy, who looked upon such a salutation as a matter -of course, put up her rosy lips, making the first advance, -he kissed her twice. Hearty, honest kisses they -were, for the man was strongly drawn towards the young -girl, who said to him timidly,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am glad to have a father—mine died before I -could remember him. May I call you so?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, yes; God bless you, my child,” and Mr. Cameron’s -voice shook as he said it, for neither Bell nor Juno -were wont to address him just as Katy did—Katy, standing -close to him, with her hand upon his shoulder and -her kiss fresh upon his lips.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She had already crept a long way into his heart, and -he took her hand from his shoulder and holding it between -his own, said to her,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I did not think you were so small or young. You -are my little daughter, my baby, instead of my son’s wife. -How do you ever expect to fulfill the duties of Mrs. Wilford -Cameron?</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s my short hair, sir. I am not so young,” Katy -answered, her eyes filling with tears as she began to wish -back the thick curls Helen cut away when the fever was -at its height.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Never mind, child,” Mr. Cameron rejoined playfully. -“Youth is no reproach; there’s many a one would give -their right hand to be young like you. Juno for instance, -who is—”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Hus-band!” came reprovingly from Mrs. Cameron, -spoken as only she could speak it, with a prolonged buzzing -sound on the first syllable, and warning the husband -that he was venturing too far.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It is time to go down if Mrs. Cameron sees the young -ladies before dinner,” she said, a little stiffly; whereupon -her better half startled Katy with the exclamation,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mrs. Cameron! Thunder and lightning! wife, -call her Katy, and don’t go into any nonsense of that -kind.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The lady reddened, but said nothing until she reached -the hall, when she whispered to Katy, apologetically,</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>“Don’t mind it. He is rather irritable since his illness, -and sometimes makes use of coarse language.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy had been a little frightened at the outburst, but -she liked Mr. Cameron notwithstanding, and her heart -was lighter as she went down to the library, where Wilford -met her at the door, and taking her on his arm led -her in to his sisters, holding her back as he presented her, -lest she should assault them as she had his mother. But -Katy felt no desire to hug the tall, queenly girl whom -Wilford introduced as Juno, and whose black eyes seemed -to read her through as she offered her hand and very -daintily kissed her forehead, murmuring something about -a welcome to New York. Bell came next, broad-faced, -plainer-looking Bell, who yet had many pretentions to -beauty, but whose manner, if possible, was frostier, cooler -than her sister’s. Of the two Katy liked Juno best, for -there was about her a flash and sparkle very fascinating -to one who had never seen anything of the kind, and -did not know that much of this vivacity was the result -of patient study and practice. Katy would have known -they were high bred, as the world defines high breeding, -and something in their manner reminded her of the -ladies she had seen abroad, ladies in whose veins lordly -blood was flowing. She could not help feeling uncomfortable -in their presence, especially as she felt that -Juno’s black eyes were on her constantly. Not that she -could ever meet them looking at her, for they darted away -the instant hers were raised, but she knew just when they -returned to her again, and how closely they were scanning -her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Your wife looks tired, Will. Let her sit down,” Bell -said, herself wheeling the easy-chair nearer to the fire, -while Wilford placed Katy in it; then, thinking she would -get on better if he were not there, he left the room, and -Katy was alone with her new sisters.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Juno had examined her dress and found no fault with -it, simply because it was Parisian made; while Bell had -examined her head, deciding that there might be something -in it, though she doubted it, but that at all events -short hair was very becoming to it, showing all its fine -proportions, and half deciding to have her own locks cut -<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>away. Juno had a similar thought, wondering if it were -the Paris fashion, and if she would look as young -in proportion as Katy did were her hair worn on her -neck.</p> - -<p class='c011'>With their brother’s departure the tongues of both the -girls were loosened, and standing near to Katy they began -to question her of what she had seen, Juno asking if -she did not hate to leave Italy, and did not wish herself -back again. Wholly truthful, Katy answered, “Oh, -yes, I would rather be there than home.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Complimentary to us, very,” Bell murmured audibly -in French, blushing as Katy’s eyes were lifted quickly -to hers, and she knew she was understood.</p> - -<p class='c011'>If there was anything which Katy liked more than -another in the way of study, it was French. She had excelled -in it at Canandaigua, and while abroad had taken -great pains to acquire a pure pronunciation, so that she -spoke it with a good deal of fluency, and readily comprehended -Bell.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I did not mean to be rude,” she said, earnestly. “I -liked Italy so much, and we expected to stay longer; but -that does not hinder my liking to be here. I hope I did -not offend you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Certainly not; you are an honest little puss,” Bell -replied, placing her hand caressingly upon the curly head -laying back so wearily on the chair. “Here in New York -we have a bad way of not telling the whole truth, but you -will soon be used to it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Used to not telling the truth! Oh, I hope not!” -and this time the blue eyes lifted so wonderingly to Bell’s -face had in them a startled look.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Simpleton!” was Juno’s mental comment, while Bell’s -was, “I like the child,” as she continued to smooth the -golden curls and wind them round her finger, wondering -if Katy had a taste for metaphysics, that being the last -branch of science which she had taken up.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I suppose you find Will a pattern husband,” Juno -said after a moment’s pause, and Katy replied, “There -never could be a better, I am sure, and I have been very -happy.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Has he never said one cross word to you in all these -<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>six months?” was Juno’s next question, to which Katy -answered truthfully, “Never.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And lets you do as you please?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, just as I please,” Katy replied, while Juno continued, -“He must have changed greatly then from what -he used to be; but marriage has probably improved him. -He tells you all his <em>secrets</em>, too, I presume?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Anxious that Wilford should appear well in every light, -Katy replied at random, “Yes, if he has any.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, then,” and in Juno’s black eyes there was a -wicked look, “perhaps you will tell me who was or is the -original of that picture he guards so carefully.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What picture?” and Katy looked up inquiringly, while -Juno, with a little sarcastic laugh, continued: “Oh, he -has not told you then. I thought he would not, he was -so angry when he saw me with it three or four years -ago. I found it in his room where he had accidentally -left it, and was looking at it when he came in. It was -the picture of a young girl who must have been very -beautiful, and I did not blame Will for loving her if he -ever did, but he need not have been so indignant at me -for wishing to know who it was. I never saw him so -angry or so much disturbed. I hope you will ferret the -secret out and tell me, for I have a great deal of curiosity, -fancying that picture had something to do with his remaining -so long a bachelor. I do not mean that he does -not love you,” she added, as she saw how white Katy -grew. “It is not to be expected that a man can live -to be thirty without loving more than one. There was -Sybil Grey, a famous belle, whom I thought at one time -he would marry; but when Judge Grandon offered she -accepted, and Will was left in the lurch. I do not really -believe he cared though, for Sybil was too much of a flirt -to suit his jealous lordship, and I will do him the justice -to say that however many fancies he may have had, he -likes you the best of all;” and this Juno felt constrained -to say because of the look in Katy’s face, which warned -her that in her thoughtlessness she had gone too far and -pierced the young wife’s heart with a pang as cruel as it -was unnecessary.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Bell had tried to stop her, but she had rattled on until -<span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>now it was too late, and she could not recall her words, -however much she might wish to do so. “Don’t tell -Will,” she was about to say, when Will himself appeared, -to take Katy out to dinner. Very beautiful and sad were -the blue eyes which looked up at him so wistfully, and -nothing but the remembrance of Juno’s words, “He likes -you best of all,” kept Katy from crying outright, when -he took her hand, and asked if she was tired.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Let us try what dinner will do for you,” he said, and -in silence Katy went with him to the dining-room, where -the glare and the ceremony bewildered her, bringing a -homesick feeling as she thought of Silverton, and the -plain tea-table, graced with the mulberry set instead of -the costly china before her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Never had Katy felt so embarrassed as she did when -seated for the first time at dinner in her husband’s home, -with all those criticising eyes upon her. She had been -very hungry, but her appetite was gone and she almost -loathed the rich food offered her, feeling so glad when -the dinner was ended, and Wilford took her to the parlor, -where she found Mark Ray waiting for her. He had been -obliged to decline Mrs. Cameron’s invitation to dinner, -but had come as early as possible after it, and Katy was -delighted to see him, for she remembered how he had -helped her during that week of gayety in Boston, when -society was so new to her. As he had been then, so he was -now, and his friendly manner put Katy as much at her -ease as it was possible for her to be in the presence of -Wilford’s mother and sisters.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I suppose you have not seen your sister Helen? You -know I called there,” Mark said to Katy; but before she -could reply, a pair of black eyes shot a keen glance at -luckless Mark, and Juno’s sharp voice said quickly, “I -did not know you had the honor of Miss Lennox’s acquaintance.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mark was in a dilemma. He had kept his call at Silverton -to himself, as he did not care to be questioned about -Katy’s family; and now, when it accidentally came out, -he tried to make some evasive reply, pretending that he -had spoken of it, and Juno had forgotten. But Juno -knew better, and from that night dated a strong feeling -<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>of dislike for Helen Lennox, whom she affected to despise, -even though she could be jealous of her. Wisely changing -the conversation, Mark asked Katy to play, and as she -seldom refused, she went at once to the piano, astonishing -both Mrs. Cameron and her daughters with the brilliancy -of her performance. Even Juno complimented her, saying -she must have taken lessons very young.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“When I was ten,” Katy answered. “Cousin Morris -gave me my first exercise himself. He plays sometimes.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, I knew that,” Juno replied. “Does your sister -play as well as you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy knew that Helen did not, and she answered frankly, -“Morris thinks she does not. She is not as fond of it -as I am.” Then feeling that she must in some way make -amends for Helen, she added, “But she knows a great -deal more than I do about <em>books</em>. Helen is very smart.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a smile on every lip at this ingenuous remark, -but only Mark and Bell liked Katy the better for -it. Wilford did not care to have her talking of her friends, -and he kept her at the piano, until she said her fingers -were tired and begged leave to stop.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was late ere Mark bade them good night; so late -that Katy began to wonder if he would never go, yawning -once so perceptibly that Wilford gave her a reproving -glance, which sent the hot blood to her face and drove -from her every feeling of drowsiness. Even after he had -gone the family were in no haste to retire, but sat chatting -with Wilford until the city clock struck twelve and Katy -was nodding in her chair.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Poor child, she is very tired,” Wilford said, apologetically, -gently waking Katy, who begged them to excuse -her, and followed her husband to her room, where she -was free to ask him what she must ask before she could -ever be quite as happy as she had been before.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Going up to the chair where Wilford was sitting before -the fire, and standing partly behind him, she said timidly, -“Will you answer me one thing truly?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Alone with Katy, Wilford felt all his old tenderness returning, -and drawing her into his lap he asked her what -it was she wished to know.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“<em>Did</em> you love anybody three or four years ago, or ever—that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>is, love them well enough to wish to make them -your wife?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy could feel how Wilford started, as he said, “What -put that idea into your head? Who has been talking to -you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Juno,” Katy answered. “She told me she believed -that it was some other love which kept you a bachelor -so long. Was it, Wilford?” and Katy’s lips quivered -in a grieved kind of way as she put the question.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Juno be——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford did not say what, for he seldom swore, and -never in a lady’s presence. So he said instead,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It was very unkind in Juno to distress you with matters -about which she knew nothing.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But did you?” Katy asked again. “Was there not a -Sybil Grey, or some one of that name?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>At the mention of Sybil Grey, Wilford looked relieved, -and answered her at once.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, there was a Sybil Grey, Mrs. Judge Grandon now, -and a dashing widow. Don’t sigh so wearily,” he continued, -as Katy drew a gasping breath. “Knowing she -was a widow I chose you, thus showing which I preferred. -Few men live to be thirty without more or less fancies, -which under some circumstances might ripen into something -stronger, and I am not an exception. I never loved -Sybil Grey, nor wished to make her my wife. I admired -her very much. I admire her yet, and among all my -acquaintances there is not one upon whom I would care -to have you make so good an impression as upon her, nor -one whose manner you could better imitate.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, will she call? Shall I see her?” Katy asked, beginning -to feel alarmed at the very thought of Sybil Grey, -with all her polish and manner.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She is spending the winter in New Orleans with her -late husband’s relatives. She will not return till spring,” -Wilford replied. “But do not look so distressed, for I -tell you solemnly that I never loved another as I love you. -Do you believe me?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” and Katy’s head drooped upon his shoulder.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was satisfied with regard to Sybil Grandon, only hoping -she would not have to meet her when she came home. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>But the picture. Whose was that? Not Sybil’s certainly, -else Juno would have known. The picture troubled her, -but she dared not speak of it, Wilford had seemed so -angry at Juno. Still she would probe him a little further, -and so she continued,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I do believe you, and if I ever see this Sybil I will try -to imitate her; but tell me, if after her, there was among -your friends <em>one</em> better than the rest, one almost as dear -as I am, one whom you sometimes remember even now—is -she living, or is she dead?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford thought of that humble grave far off in St. -Mary’s churchyard, and he answered quickly,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If there ever was such an one, she certainly is <em>not</em> living. -Are you satisfied?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy answered that she was, but perfect confidence in -her husband’s affection had been terribly shaken, and -Katy’s heart was too full to sleep even after she had retired. -Visions of Sybil Grey, blended with visions of -another whom she called the “dead fancy,” flitted before -her mind, as she lay awake, while hour after hour went -by, until tired nature could endure no longer, and just -as the great city was waking up and the rattle of wheels -was beginning to be heard upon the pavements, she fell -away to sleep.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XIV.<br> <span class='large'>EXTRACTS FROM BELL CAMERON’S DIARY.</span></h2> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>New York</span>, December.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c011'>After German Philosophy and Hamilton’s Metaphysics, -it is a great relief to have introduced into the family -an entirely new element—a character the dissection of -which is at once a novelty and a recreation. It is absolutely -refreshing, and I find myself returning to my books -with increased vigor after an encounter with that unsophisticated, -innocent-minded creature, our sister-in-law -Mrs. Wilford Cameron. Such pictures as Juno and I -used to draw of the stately personage who was one day coming -to us as Wilford’s wife, and of whom even mother was to -stand in awe. Alas, how hath our idol fallen! And still -I rather like the little creature, who, the very first night, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>nearly choked mother to death, giving her lace streamers -a most uncomfortable twitch, and actually kissing <em>father</em>—a -thing I have not done since I can remember. But -then the Camerons are all a set of icicles, encased in a -refrigerator at that. If we were not, we should thaw out, -when Katy leans on us so affectionately and looks up at -us so wistfully, as if pleading for our love. Wilford does -wonders; he used to be so grave, so dignified and silent, -that I never supposed he would bear having a wife meet -him at the door with cooing and kisses, and climbing into -his lap right before us all. Juno says it makes her sick, -while mother is dreadfully shocked; and even Will sometimes -seems annoyed, gently shoving her aside and telling -her he is tired.</p> - -<p class='c011'>After all, it is a query in my mind whether it is not -better to be like Katy than like Sybil Grandon, about -whom Juno was mean enough to tell her the first day of -her arrival.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Very pretty, but shockingly insipid,” is Juno’s verdict -upon Mrs. Wilford, while mother says less, but looks a -great deal more, especially when she talks about “my -folks,” as she did to Mrs. Gen. Reynolds the first time she -called. Mother and Juno were so annoyed, while Will -looked like a thunder-cloud, when she spoke of Uncle -Ephraim saying so and so. He was better satisfied with -Katy in Europe, where he was not known, than he is here, -where he sees her with other people’s eyes. One of his -weaknesses is a too great reverence for the world’s opinion, -as held and expounded by our very fashionable mother, and -as in a quiet kind of way she has arrayed herself against -poor Katy, while Juno is more open in her acts and sayings, -I predict that it will not be many months before he -comes to the conclusion that he has made a <i><span lang="fr">mésalliance</span></i>, -a thing of which no Cameron was ever guilty.</p> - -<p class='c011'>I wonder if there is any truth in the rumor that Mrs. -Gen. Reynolds once taught a district school, and if she -did, how much would that detract from the merits of her -son, Lieutenant Bob. But what nonsense to be writing -about him. Let me go back to Katy, to whom Mrs. Gen. -Reynolds took at once, laughing merrily at her <em>naïve</em> -speeches, as she called them—speeches which made Will -<span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>turn black in the face, they betrayed so much of rustic -life and breeding. I fancy that he has given Katy a few -hints, and that she is beginning to be afraid of him, for -she watches him constantly when she is talking, and she -does not now slip her hand into his as she used to when -guests are leaving and she stands at his side; neither is -she so demonstrative when he comes up from the office at -night, and there is a look upon her face which was not -there when she came. They are “<em>toning</em> her down,” -mother and Juno, and to-morrow they are actually going -to commence a systematic course of training preparatory -to her début into society, said début to occur on the night -of the ——, when Mrs. Gen. Reynolds gives the party talked -about so long. I was present when they met in solemn -conclave to talk it over, mother asking Will if he had any -objections to Juno’s instructing his wife with regard to -certain things of which she was ignorant. Will’s forehead -knit itself together at first, and I half hoped he would veto -the whole proceeding, but after a moment he replied,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, provided Katy is willing. Her feelings must not -be hurt.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Certainly not,” mother said. “Katy is a dear little -creature, and we all love her very much, but that does -not blind us to her deficiencies, and as we are anxious -that she should fill that place in society which Mrs. Wilford -Cameron ought to fill, it seems necessary to tone her -down a little before her first appearance at a party.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>To this Will assented, and then Juno went on to enumerate -her deficiencies, which, as nearly as I can remember, -are these: She laughs too much and too loud; is too enthusiastic -over novelties; has too much to say about Silverton -and “my folks;” quotes Uncle Ephraim and sister -Helen too often, and is even guilty at times of mentioning -a certain Aunt Betsy, who must have floated with the ark, -and snuffed the breezes of Ararat. She does not know -how to enter, or cross, or leave a room properly, or receive -an introduction, or, in short, to do anything according to -New York ideas, as understood by the Camerons, and so -she is to be taught—<em>toned down</em>, mother called it—dwelling -upon her high spirit as something vulgar, if not absolutely -wicked. How father would have sworn, for he calls -<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>her his little sunbeam, and says he never should have -gained so fast if she had not come with her sunny face, -and lively, merry laugh, to cheer his sick room. Katy has -a fast friend in him. But mother and Juno—well, I shall -be glad if they do not annihilate her altogether, and I am -surprised that Will allows it. I wonder if Katy is really -happy with us. She says she is, and is evidently delighted -with New York life, clapping her hands when the invitation -to Mrs. Reynolds’s party was received, and running -with it to Wilford as soon as he came home. It is her -first big party, she says, she having never attended any except -that little sociable in Boston, and those insipid -school-girl affairs at the seminary. I may be conceited—Juno -thinks I am—but really and truly, Bell Cameron’s -private opinion of herself is that at heart she is better -than the rest of her family, and so I pity this little sister -of ours, while at the same time I am exceedingly anxious -to be present whenever Juno takes her in hand, for I like -to see the fun. Were she at all bookish, I should avow -myself her champion, and openly defend her; but she is -not, and so I give her into the hands of the Philistines, -hoping they will, at least, spare her hair, and not worry -her life out on that head. It is very becoming to her, and -several young ladies have whispered their intention of -trying its effect upon themselves, so that Katy may yet -be a leader of the fashion.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XV.<br> <span class='large'>TONING DOWN.—BELL’S DIARY CONTINUED.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Such fun as it was to see mother and Juno training -Katy, showing her how to enter the parlor, how to arrange -her dress, how to carry her hands and feet, and how -to sit in a chair—Juno going through with the performance -first, and then requiring Katy to imitate her. Had -I been Katy I should have rebelled, but she is far too -sweet-tempered and anxious to please, while I suspect that -fear of my lord Wilford had something to do with it, for -when the drill was over, she asked so earnestly if we -thought he would be ashamed of her, and there were tears -in her great blue eyes as she said it. Hang Wilford! Hang -<span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>the whole of them; I am not sure I shall not yet espouse -her cause myself, or else tell father, who will do it so much -better.</p> - -<p class='c011'><em>Dec. —th.</em>—Another drill, with Juno commanding officer, -while the poor little <em>private</em> seemed completely worried -out. This time there were open doors, but so absorbed -were mother and Juno as not to hear the bell, and -just as Juno was saying, “Now imagine me Mrs. Gen. -Reynolds, to whom you are being presented,” while Katy -was bowing almost to the floor, who should appear but -Mark Ray, stumbling square upon that ludicrous rehearsal, -and, of course, bringing it to an end. No explanation was -made, nor was any needed, for Mark’s face showed that he -understood it, and it was as much as he could do to keep -from roaring with merriment; I am sure he pitied Katy, -for his manner towards her was very affectionate and kind, -and when she left the room he complimented her highly, -repeating many things he had heard in her praise from -those who had seen her both in the street and here at home. -Juno’s face was like a thunder-cloud, for she is as much -in love with Mark Ray as she was once with Dr. Grant, -and is even jealous of his praise of Katy. Glad am I that -I never yet saw the man who could make me jealous, or for -whom I cared a pin. There’s Bob Reynolds up at West -Point. I suppose I do think his epaulettes very becoming -to him, but his hair is too light, and he cannot raise -whiskers big enough to cast a shadow on the wall, while -I know he looks with contempt upon females who write, -even though their writings never see the light of day; -thinks them strong-minded, self-willed, and all that. He -is expected to be present at the party, but I shall not go. -I prefer to stay at home and finish that article entitled, -“Women of the Present Century,” suggested to my mind -by my sister Katy, who stands for the picture I am drawing -of a pretty woman, with more heart than brains, contrasting -her with such an one as Juno, her opposite.</p> - -<p class='c011'><em>January 10.</em>—The last time I wrote in my journal was -just before the party, which is over now, the long talked -of affair at which Katy was the reigning belle. I don’t -know <em>how</em> it happened, but happen it did, and Juno’s -glory faded before that of her rival, whose ringing laugh -<span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>frequently penetrated to every room, and made more than -one look up in some surprise. But when Mrs. Humphreys -said, “It’s that charming little Mrs. Cameron, the -prettiest creature I ever saw, her laugh is so refreshing -and genuine,” the point was settled, and Katy was free -to laugh as loudly as she pleased.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She did look beautifully, in lace and pearls, with her -short hair curling in her neck. She would not allow us to -put so much as a bud in her hair, showing, in this respect, -a willfulness we never expected; but as she was perfectly -irresistible, we suffered her to have her way, and when she -was dressed, sent her in to father, who had asked to see -her. And now comes the strangest thing in the world.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You are very beautiful, little daughter,” father said, -“I almost wish I was going with you to see the sensation -you are sure to create.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then straight into his lap climbed Katy, <em>father’s</em> lap, -where none of us ever sat, I am sure, and began to coax -him to go, telling him she should appear better if he were -there, and that she should need him when Wilford left -her, as of course he must a part of the time. And father -actually dressed himself and went. But Katy did not -need him after the people began to understand that Mrs. -Wilford Cameron was the rage. Even Sybil Grey in her -palmiest days never received such homage as was paid to -the little Silverton girl, whose great charm was her perfect -enjoyment of everything, and her perfect faith in what -people said to her. Juno was nothing and I worse than -nothing, for I <em>did</em> go after all, wearing a plain black silk, -with high neck and long sleeves, looking, as Juno said, -like a Sister of Charity.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Lieut. Bob was there, his light hair lighter than ever, -and his chin as smooth as my hand. He likes to dance -and I do not, but somehow he persisted in staying where -I was, notwithstanding that I said my sharpest things -in hopes to get rid of him. He left me at last to dance -with Katy, who makes up in grace and airiness what she -lacks in knowledge. Once upon the floor she did not lack -for partners, but I verily believe danced every set, growing -prettier and fairer as she danced, for hers is a complexion -which does not get red and blowsy with exercise.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>Mark Ray was there too, and I saw him smile comically -when Katy met the people with that bow she was -making at the time he came so suddenly upon us. Mark -is a good fellow, and I really think we have him to thank -in a measure for Katy’s successful début. He was the -first to take her from Wilford, walking with her up and -down the hall by way of reassuring her, and once as they -passed me I heard her say,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I feel so timid here—so much afraid of doing something -wrong—something countrified.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Never mind,” he answered. “Act yourself just as -you would were you at home in Silverton, where you are -known. That is far better than affecting a manner not -natural to you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>After that Katy brightened wonderfully. The stiffness -which at first was perceptible passed off, and she was -Katy Lennox, queening it over all the city belles, drawing -after her a host of gentlemen, and between the sets holding -a miniature court at one end of the room, where -the more desirable of the guests crowded around, flattering -her until her little head ought to have been turned if it -was not. To do her justice she bore her honors well, and -when we were in the carriage and father complimented -her upon her success, she only said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If I pleased you all I am glad.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>So many calls as we had the next day, and so many -invitations as there are now on our table for Mrs. Wilford -Cameron, while our opera box between the scenes -is packed with beaux, until one would suppose Wilford -might be jealous; but Katy takes it so quietly and modestly, -seeming only gratified for his sake, that I really -believe he enjoys it more than she does. At all events -he persists in her going even when she would rather stay -at home, so if she is spoiled the fault will rest with him.</p> - -<p class='c011'><em>February —th.</em>—Poor Katy! Dissipation is beginning -to wear upon her, for she is not accustomed to our late -hours, and sometimes falls asleep while Esther is dressing -her. But go she must, for Wilford wills it so, and -she is but an automaton to do his bidding.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Why can’t mother let her alone, when everybody seems -so satisfied with her? Somehow she does not believe that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>people are as delighted as they pretend, and so she keeps -training and tormenting her until I do not wonder that -Katy sometimes hates to go out, lest she shall unconsciously -be guilty of an impropriety. I pitied her last night -when, after she was ready for the opera, she came into -my room where I was indulging in the luxury of a loose -dressing-gown, with my feet on the sofa. At first I think -she liked Juno best, but latterly she has taken to me, and -now sitting down before the fire into which her blue eyes -looked with a steady stare, she said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I wish I might stay here with you to-night. I have -heard this opera before, and it will be so tiresome. I -get so sleepy while they are singing, for I never care to -watch the acting. I did at first when it was new, but now -it seems insipid to see them make believe, while the theatre -is worse yet,” and she gave a weary yawn.</p> - -<p class='c011'>In less than three months she had exhausted fashionable -life, and I looked at her in astonishment, asking what -would please her if the opera did not. What would she -like?</p> - -<p class='c011'>Turning her eyes full upon me, she exclaimed,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I do like it some, I suppose, only I get so tired. I -like to ride, I like to skate, I like to shop, and all that, but -oh, you don’t know how I want to go home to mother and -Helen. I have not seen them for so long; but I am going -in the spring—going in May. How many days are there -in March and April? Sixty-one,” she continued; “then -I may safely say that in eighty days I shall see mother, -and all the dear old places. It is not a grand home like -this. You, Bell, might laugh at it; Juno would, I am -sure, but you do not know how dear it is to me, or how I -long for a sight of the huckleberry hills and the rocks -where Helen and I used to play.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Just then Will called to say the carriage was waiting, -and Katy was driven away, while I sat thinking of her, -and the devoted love with which she clings to her home and -friends, wondering if it were the kindest thing which could -have been done, transplanting her to our atmosphere, so -different from her own.</p> - -<p class='c011'><em>March 1st.</em>—As it was in the winter, so it is now; Mrs. -Wilford Cameron is the rage—the bright star of society, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>which quotes and pets and flatters, and even laughs at her -by turns; and Wilford, though still watchful, lest she -should do something <i><span lang="fr">outré</span></i>, is very proud of her, insisting -upon her accepting invitations, sometimes two for one -evening, until the child is absolutely worn out, and said to -me once when I told her how well she was looking and how -pretty her dress was, “Yes, pretty enough, but I am so -tired. If I could lie down on mother’s bed, in a shilling -calico, just as I used to do!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mother’s bed seems at present to be the height of her -ambition—the thing she most desires; and as Juno fancies -it must be the <em>feathers</em> she is sighing for, she wickedly -suggests that Wilford either buy a feather bed for his wife, -or else send to Aunty Betsy for the one which was to be -Katy’s setting out! They go to housekeeping in May, and -on Madison Square, too. I think Wilford would quite as -soon remain with us, for he does not fancy change; but -Katy wants a home of her own, and I never saw anything -more absolutely beautiful than her face when father said -to Wilford that No.—— Madison Square was for sale, advising -him to secure it. But when mother intimated that -there was no necessity for the two families to separate at -present—that Katy was too young to have the charge of a -house—there came into her eyes a look of such distress -that it went straight to father’s heart, and calling her to -him, he said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Tell me, sunbeam, what is your choice—to stay with -us, or have a home of your own?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy was very white, and her voice trembled as she -replied,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You have been kind to me here, and it is very pleasant; -but I guess—I think—I’m sure—I should like the -housekeeping best. I am not so young either. Nineteen -in July, and when I go home next month I can learn -so much of Aunt Betsy and Aunt Hannah.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mother looked at Wilford then; but he was looking into -the fire with an expression anything but favorable to that -visit home, fixed now for April instead of May. But Katy -has no discernment, and believes she is actually going to -learn how to make apple dumplings and pumpkin pies. In -spite of mother the house is bought, and now she is gone -<span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>all day deciding how it shall be furnished, always leaving -Katy out of the question, as if she were a cipher, and only -consulting Wilford’s choice. They will be happier alone, I -know. Mrs. Gen. Reynolds says that it is the way for -young people to live; that her son’s wife shall never come -home to her, for of course their habits could not be alike; -and then she looked queerly at me, as if she knew I was -thinking of Lieutenant Bob and who his wife might be.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sybil Grandon is coming in April or May, and Mrs. -Reynolds wonders <em>will</em> she flirt as she used to do. Just -as if Bob would care for a widow! There is more danger -from Will, who thinks Mrs. Grandon a perfect paragon, -and who is very anxious that Katy may appear well -before her, saying nothing and doing nothing which shall -in any way approximate to Silverton and the <em>shoes</em> which -Katy told Esther she used to bind when a girl. Will need -not be disturbed, for Sybil Grandon was never half as -pretty as Katy, or half as much admired. Neither need -Mrs. Gen. Reynolds fret about Bob, as if he would care for -her. Sybil Grandon indeed!</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XVI.<br> <span class='large'>KATY.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Much which Bell had written of Katy was true. She -had been in New York nearly four months, drinking deep -draughts from the cup of folly and fashion held so constantly -to her lips; but she cloyed of it at last, and what -at first had been so eagerly grasped, began, from daily -repetition, to grow insipid and dull. To be the belle of -every place, to know that her dress, her style, and even -the fashion of her hair was copied and admired, was gratifying -to her, because she knew it pleased her husband, -who was never happier or prouder than when, with Katy -on his arm, he entered some crowded parlor and heard the -buzz of admiration as it circled round, while Katy smiled -and blushed like a little child, wondering at the attentions -lavished upon her, and attributing them mostly to her -husband, whose position she understood, marveling more -and more that he should have chosen her to be his wife. -That he had so honored her made her love him with a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>strange kind of grateful, clinging love, which as yet would -acknowledge no fault in him, no wrong, no error; and if -ever a shadow did cloud her heart she was the one to -blame, not Wilford; he was right—he had idol she worshiped—he -the one for whose sake she tried to drop her -country ways and conform to the rules his mother and -sister taught, submitting with the utmost good nature to -what Bell called the <em>drill</em>, but never losing that natural, -playful, airy manner which so charmed the city people and -made her the reigning belle. As Marian Hazelton had predicted, -others than her husband had spoken words of -praise in Katy’s ear; but such was her nature that the -shafts of flattery glanced aside, leaving her unharmed, so -that her husband, though sometimes disquieted, had no -cause for jealousy, enjoying Katy’s success far more than -she did herself, urging her out when she would rather have -stayed at home, and evincing so much annoyance if she -ventured to remonstrate, that she gave it up at last and -floated on with the tide.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mrs. Cameron had at first been greatly shocked at Katy’s -want of propriety, looking on aghast when she wound her -arms around Wilford’s neck, or sat upon his knee; but to -the elder Cameron the sight was a pleasant one, bringing -back sunny memories of a summer-time years ago, when -<em>he</em> was young, and a fair bride had for a few brief weeks -made this earth a paradise to him. But fashion had entered -his Eden—that summer time was gone, and only the -dun leaves of autumn lay where the buds which promised -so much had been. The girlish bride was a stately matron -now, doing nothing amiss, but making all her acts -conform to a prescribed rule of etiquette, and frowning -majestically upon the frolicsome, impulsive Katy, who had -crept so far into the heart of the eccentric man that he -always found the hours of her absence long, listening intently -for the sound of her bounding footsteps, and feeling -that her coming to his household had infused into his -veins a better, healthier life than he had known for years. -Katy was very dear to him, and he felt a thrill of pain -when first the <em>toning down</em> process commenced. He had -heard them talk about it, and in his wrath he had hurled -a cut-glass goblet upon the marble hearth, breaking it in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>atoms, while he called them a pair of precious fools, and -Wilford a bigger one because he suffered it. So long as -his convalescence lasted, he was some restraint upon his -wife, but when he was well enough to resume his duties -in his Wall Street office, there was nothing in the way, and -Katy’s education progressed accordingly. For Wilford’s -sake Katy would do anything, and she submitted to much -which would otherwise have been excessively annoying. -But she was growing tired now, and it told upon her -face, which was whiter than when she came to New York, -while her figure was, if possible, slighter and more airy; -but this only enhanced her loveliness, Wilford thought, -and so he paid no heed to her complaints of weariness, but -kept her in the circle which welcomed her so warmly, and -would have missed her so much.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Little by little it had come to Katy that she was not -quite as comfortable in her husband’s family as she would -be in a house of her own. The constant watch kept over -her by Mrs. Cameron and Juno irritated and fretted her, -making her wonder what was the matter, and why she -should so often feel lonely and desolate when surrounded -by every luxury which wealth could purchase. “It is <em>his -folks</em>,” she always said to herself when cogitating upon the -subject. “Alone with Wilford I shall feel as light and -happy as I did in Silverton.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And so Katy caught eagerly at the prospect of a release -from the restraint of No.——, seeming so anxious that Wilford, -almost before he was aware of it himself, became the -owner of one of the most desirable situations on Madison -Square. Of all the household after Katy, Juno was perhaps -the only one glad of the new house. It would be a -change for herself, for she meant to spend much of her -time on Madison Square, where everything was to be on -the most magnificent style. Fortunately for Katy, she -knew nothing of Juno’s intentions and built castles of her -new home, where mother could come with Helen and Dr. -Grant. Somehow she never saw Uncle Ephraim, nor his -wife, nor Aunt Betsy there. She knew how out of place -they would appear, and how they would annoy Wilford; -but surely to her mother and Helen there could be no objection, -and when she first went over the house she designated -<span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>this room as mother’s, and another one as Helen’s, -thinking how each should be fitted up with direct reference -to their tastes, Helen’s containing a great many books, -while her mother’s should have easy-chairs and lounges, -with a host of drawers for holding things. And Wilford -heard it all, making no reply, but considering how he could -manage best so as to have no scene, for he had not the -slightest intention of inviting either Mrs. Lennox or Helen -to visit him, much less to become a part of his household. -That he did not marry Katy’s relatives was a fact as fixed -as the laws of the Medes and Persians, and Katy’s anticipations -were answering no other purpose than to divert -her mind for the time being, keeping her bright and cheerful.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Very pleasant indeed were the pictures Katy drew of -the new house where Helen was to come, but pleasanter -far were her pictures of that visit to Silverton, to occur in -April. Poor Katy! how much she thought about that visit -when she should see them all and go with Uncle Ephraim -down into the meadows, making believe she was Katy Lennox -still—when she could climb the ladder in the barn -after new-laid eggs, or steal across the fields to Linwood, -talking with Morris as she used to talk in the days which -seemed so long ago. Morris she feared was not liking her -as well as of old, thinking her very frivolous and silly, for -he had only written her one short note in reply to the letter -she had sent, telling him of the parties she had attended, -and the gay, happy life she led, for to him she would not -then confess that in her cup of joy there was a single -bitter dreg. All was bright and fair, she said, and Morris -had replied that he was glad, “But do not forget that -<em>death</em> can find you even amid your splendor, or that after -death the judgment comes, and then what shall it profit -you if you gain the whole world and lose your own soul.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>These words had rung in Katy’s ears for many a day, -following her to the dance and to the opera, where even -the music was drowned by the echo of the words, “lose -your own soul.” But the sting grew less and less, till -Katy no longer felt it, and now was only anxious to talk -with Morris and convince him that she was not as thoughtless -as he might suppose, that she still remembered his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>teachings, and the little church in the valley, preferring -it to the handsome, aristocratic house where she went with -the Camerons once on every Sunday.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“One more week and then it is April,” she said to -Wilford one evening after they had retired to their room, -and she was talking of Silverton. “I guess we’d better -go about the tenth. Shall you stay as long as I do?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford bit his lip, and after a moment replied,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have been talking with mother, and we think April -is not a good time for you to be in the country; it is so -wet and cold, and I want you here to help order our furniture.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, Wilford!” and Katy’s voice trembled, for from -past experience she knew that for Wilford to object to -her plans was equivalent to a refusal, and her heart -throbbed with disappointment as she tried to listen while -Wilford urged many reasons why she should not go, convincing -her at last that of all times for visiting Silverton, -spring was the worst; that summer or autumn were better, -and that it was her duty to remain where she was until -such time as he saw fit for her to do otherwise.</p> - -<p class='c011'>This was the meaning of what he said, and though his -manner was guarded, and his words kind, they were very -conclusive, and with one gasping sob Katy gave up Silverton, -charging it more to Mrs. Cameron than to Wilford, -and writing next day to Helen that she could not -come just then, but that after she was settled they might -surely expect her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>With a bitter pang Helen read this letter to the three -women who had anticipated Katy’s visit so much, and -each of whom cried quietly over her disappointment, while -Uncle Ephraim went back to his work that afternoon with -a heavy heart, for now his labor was not lightened by -thoughts of Katy’s being there so soon.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Please God she may come to us sometime,” he said, -pausing beneath the butternut in the meadow, and remembering -just how Katy looked on that first day of her return -from Canandaigua, when she sat on the flat stone -while he piled up his hay and talked with her of different -paths through life, one of which she must surely tread.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She had said, “I will choose the straight and pleasant,” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>and some would think she had; but Uncle Ephraim was -not so sure, and leaning against a tree, he asked silently -that whether he ever saw his darling again or not, God -would care for her and keep her unspotted from the -world.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XVII.<br> <span class='large'>THE NEW HOUSE.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>It was a cruel thing for Wilford Cameron to try to -separate Katy from the hearts which loved her so much; -and, as if he felt reproached, there was an increased tenderness -in his manner towards her, particularly as he saw -how sad she was for a few days after his decision. But -Katy could not be sorry long, and in the excitement of -settling the new house her spirits rallied, and her merry -laugh trilled like a bird through the rooms where the workmen -were so busy, and where Mrs. Cameron was the real -superintendent, though there was sometimes a show of -consulting Katy, who nevertheless was a mere cipher in -the matter. In everything the mother had her way, until -it came to the room designed for Helen, and which Mrs. -Cameron was for converting into a kind of smoking or -lounging room for Wilford and his associates. Katy must -not expect him to be always as devoted to her as he had -been during the winter, she said. He had a great many -bachelor friends, and now that he had a house of his own, -it was natural that he should have some place where they -could spend an hour or so with him without the restraint -of ladies’ society, and this was just the room—large, airy, -quiet, and so far from the parlors that the odor of the -smoke could not reach them.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy had submitted to much without knowing that she -was submitting; but something Bell had dropped that -morning had awakened a suspicion that possibly she was -being ignored, and the wicked part of Helen would have -enjoyed the look in her eye as she said, not to Mrs. Cameron, -but to Wilford, “I have from the very first decided -this chamber for Helen, and I cannot give it up for a -smoking room. You never had one at home. Why did -you not, if it is so necessary?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>Wilford could not tell her that his mother would as -soon have brought into her house one of Barnum’s shows, -as to have had a room set apart for smoking, which she -specially disliked; neither could he at once reply at all, -so astonished was he at this sudden flash of spirit. Mrs. -Cameron was the first to rally, and in her usual quiet tone -she said, “I did not know that your sister was to form -a part of your household. When do you expect her?” and -her cold gray eyes rested steadily upon Katy, who never -before so fully realized the distance there was between her -husband’s friends and her own. But as the worm will turn -when trampled on, so Katy, though hitherto powerless to -defend herself, roused in Helen’s behalf, and in a tone as -quiet and decided as that of her mother-in-law, replied, -“She will come whenever I write for her. It was arranged -from the first. Wasn’t it, Wilford?” and she turned to -her husband, who, unwilling to decide between a wife he -loved and a mother whose judgment he considered infallible, -affected not to hear her, and stole from the room, -followed by Mrs. Cameron, so that Katy was left mistress -of the field.</p> - -<p class='c011'>After that no one interfered in her arrangement of -Helen’s room, which, with far less expense than Mrs. -Cameron would have done, she fitted up so cosily that -Wilford pronounced it the pleasantest room in the house, -while Bell went into ecstasies over it, and even Juno might -have unbent enough to praise it, were it not for Mark Ray, -who, from being tacitly claimed by Juno, was frequently -admitted to their counsels, and had asked the privilege of -contributing to Helen’s room a handsome volume of German -poetry, such as he fancied she might enjoy. So long -as Mark’s attentions were not bestowed in any other quarter -Juno was comparatively satisfied, but the moment he -swerved a hair’s breadth from the line she had marked out, -her anger was aroused; and now, remembering his commendations -of Helen Lennox, she hated her as cordially as -one jealous girl can hate another whom she has not seen, -making Katy so uncomfortable, without knowing what was -the matter, that she hailed the morning of her exit from -No.—— as the brightest since her marriage.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was a very happy day for Katy, and when she first -<span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>sat down to dinner in her own home, her face shone with -a joy which even the presence of her mother-in-law could -not materially lessen. She would rather have been alone -with Wilford, it is true, but as her choice was not consulted -she submitted cheerfully, proudly taking her rightful -place at the table, and doing the honors so well that -Mrs. Cameron, in speaking of it to her daughters, acknowledged -that Wilford had little to fear if Katy always appeared -as much at ease as she did that day. A thought -similar to this passed through the mind of Wilford, who -was very observant of such matters, and that night, after -his mother was gone, he warmly commended Katy, but -spoiled the pleasure his commendations would have given -by telling her next, as if one thought suggested the other, -that Sybil Grandon had returned, that he saw her on -Broadway, accepting her invitation to a seat in her carriage -which brought him to his door. She had made many -inquiries concerning Katy, expressing a great curiosity to -see her, and saying that as she drove past the house that -morning, she was strongly tempted to waive all ceremony -and run in, knowing she should be pardoned for the sake -of Auld Lang Syne, when she was privileged to take liberties -with the Camerons. All this Wilford repeated to -Katy, but he did not tell her how at the words Auld Lang -Syne, Sybil had turned her fine eyes upon him with an expression -which made him color, for he knew she was referring -to the time when her name and his were always coupled -together.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy had dreaded the return of Sybil Grandon, of whom -she had heard so much, and now that she had come, she -felt for a moment a terror of meeting her which she tried -to shake off, succeeded at last, for perfect faith in Wilford -was to her a strong shield of defence, and her only trouble -was a fear lest she should fall in the scale of comparison -which might be instituted between herself and Mrs. -Grandon, who after a few days ceased to be a bugbear, -Wilford never mentioning her again, and Katy only hearing -of her through Juno and Bell, the first of whom went into -raptures over her, while the latter styled her a silly, coquettish -widow, who would appear much better to have -worn her weeds a little longer, and not throw herself quite -<span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>so soon into the market. That she should of course meet -her some time, Katy knew, but she would not distress herself -till the time arrived, and so she dismissed her fears, -or rather lost them in the excitement of her new dignity -as mistress of a house.</p> - -<p class='c011'>In her girlhood Katy had evinced a taste for housekeeping, -which now developed so rapidly that she won the -respect of all the servants, from the man who answered the -bell to the accomplished cook, hired by Mrs. Cameron, and -who, like most accomplished cooks, was sharp and cross and -opinionated, but who did not find it easy to scold the blithe -little woman who every morning came flitting into her -dominions, not asking what they would have for dinner, as -she had been led to suppose she would, but <em>ordering</em> it with -a matter of course air, which amused the usually overbearing -Mrs. Phillips. But when the little lady, rolling her -sleeves above her dimpled elbows and donning the clean -white apron which Phillips was reserving for afternoon, -announced her intention of surprising Wilford, with a pudding -such as Aunt Betsy used to make, there were signs -of rebellion, Phillips telling her bluntly that she couldn’t -be bothered—that it was not a lady’s place in the kitchen -under foot—that the other Mrs. Cameron never did it, and -would not like it in Mrs. Wilford.</p> - -<p class='c011'>For a moment Katy paused and looked straight at Mrs. -Phillips; then said, quietly, “I have only six eggs here—the -recipe is ten. Bring me four more, please.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was something in the blue eyes which compelled -obedience, and the dessert progressed without another word -of remonstrance. But when the door bell rang, and word -came down that there were ladies in the parlor—Juno, -with some one else—Phillips would not tell her of the -<em>flour</em> on her hair; and as Katy, after casting aside her -apron and putting down her sleeves, only glanced hastily -at herself in the hall mirror as she passed it, she appeared -in the parlor with this mark upon her curls, and greatly -to her astonishment was presented to “Mrs. Sybil -Grandon,” Juno explaining, that as Sybil was anxious to -see her, and they were passing the house, she had presumed -upon her privilege as a sister and brought her in.</p> - -<p class='c011'>For a moment the room turned dark, it was so sudden, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>so unexpected, and she so unprepared; but Sybil’s familiar -manner quieted her, and she was able at last to look -fully at her visitor, finding her <em>not</em> as handsome as she -expected, nor as young, but in all other respects she had -not perhaps been exaggerated. Cultivated and self-possessed, -she was very pleasing in her manner, making Katy -feel wholly at ease by a few well-timed compliments, which -had the merit of seeming genuine, so perfect was she in -the art of deception.</p> - -<p class='c011'>To Katy she was very gracious, admiring her house, admiring -herself, admiring everything, until Katy wondered -how she could ever have dreaded to meet her, laughing and -chatting as familiarly as if the fashionable woman were -not criticising every movement, and every act, and every -feature of her face, wondering most at the <em>flour</em> upon her -hair!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Juno wondered, too, but knowing Katy’s domestic propensities, -suspected the truth, and feigning some errand -with Phillips, she excused herself for a moment and descended -to the kitchen, where she was not long in hearing -about Katy’s “queer ways, coming where she was not -needed, and making country puddings after some heathenish -aunt’s rule.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Was it Aunt Betsy?” Juno asked, her face betokening -its disgust when told that she was right, and her -manner on her return to the parlor was very frigid towards -Katy, who had discovered the flour on her hair, and was -laughing merrily over it, telling Sybil how it happened—how -cross Phillips was—and lastly, how “our folks” often -made the pudding, and that was why she wished to surprise -Wilford with it.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a sarcastic smile upon Sybil’s lip as she wished -Mrs. Cameron success and then departed, leaving Katy to -finish the dessert, which, when ready for the table, was certainly -very inviting, and would have tempted the appetite -of any man who had not been listening to gossip not wholly -conducive to his peace of mind.</p> - -<p class='c011'>On his way home Wilford had stopped at his fathers, -where Juno was relating the particulars of her call upon -his wife, and as she did not think it necessary to stop for -him, he heard of Katy’s misdoings, and her general appearance -<span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>in the presence of Sybil Grandon, whom she entertained -with a description of “our folks’” favorite dishes, -together with Aunt Betsy’s recipes. This was the straw -too many, and since his marriage Wilford had not been as -angry as he was while listening to Juno, who reported -Sybil’s verdict on his wife, “A domestic little body and -very pretty.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford did not care to have his wife domestic; he did -not marry her for that, and in a mood anything but favorable -to the light, delicate dessert Katy had prepared with -so much care, he went to his luxurious home, where Katy -ran as usual to meet him, her face brimming with the -surprise she had in store for him, and herself so much excited -that she did not at first observe the cloud upon his -brow, as he moodily answered her rapid questions. When -the important moment arrived, and the dessert was brought -on, he promptly declined it, even after her explanation -that she made it herself, urging him to try it for the sake -of pleasing her, if nothing more. But Wilford was not -hungry then, and even had he been, he would have chosen -anything before a pudding made from a recipe of Betsy -Barlow, so the dessert was untasted even by Katy herself, -who, knowing now that something had gone wrong, sat -fighting back her tears until the servant left the room, -when she timidly asked, “What is it, Wilford? What -makes you seem so——” She would not say <em>cross</em>, and so -substituted “queer,” while Wilford plunged at once into -the matter by saying, “Juno tells me she called here this -afternoon with Mrs. Grandon.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, I forgot to mention it,” Katy answered, feeling -puzzled to know why that should annoy her husband; -but his next remarks disclosed the whole, and Katy’s tears -flowed fast as Wilford asked what she supposed Mrs. -Grandon thought, to see his wife looking as if fresh from -the flour barrel, and to hear her talk about Aunt Betsy’s -recipes and “<em>our folks</em>.” “That is a bad habit -of yours, Katy,” he continued, “one of which I wish you to break -yourself, if possible. I have never spoken to you directly -on the subject before, but it annoys me exceedingly, inasmuch -as it is an indication of low breeding.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was no answer from Katy, whose heart was too -<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>full to speak, and so Wilford went on, “Our servants were -selected by mother with a direct reference to your youth -and inexperience, and it is not necessary for you to frequent -the kitchen, or, indeed, to go there oftener than once -a week. Let them come to you for orders, not you go to -them. Neither need you speak quite so familiarly to them, -treating them almost as if they were your equals. Try to -remember your true position—that whatever you may have -been you are now Mrs. Wilford Cameron, equal to any -lady in New York.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>They were in the library now, and the soft May breeze -came stealing through the open window, stirring the fleecy -curtains and blowing across the tasteful bouquet which -Katy had arranged; but Katy was too wretched to care for -her surroundings. It was the first time Wilford had ever -spoken to her in just this way, and his manner hurt her -more than his words, making her feel as if she were an -ignorant, ill-bred creature, whom he had raised to a position -she did not know how to fill. It was cruel thus to -repay her attempts to please, and so, perhaps, Wilford -thought, as with folded arms he sat looking at her weeping -so bitterly upon the sofa; but he was too indignant to make -any concession then, and he suffered her to weep in silence -until he remembered that his mother had requested him to -bring her round that evening, as they were expecting a -few of Juno’s friends, and among them Sybil Grandon. -If Katy went he wished her to look her best, and he unbent -so far as to try to check her tears. But Katy could -not stop, and she wept so passionately that Wilford’s anger -subsided, leaving only tenderness and pity for the wife he -soothed and caressed, until the sobbing ceased, and Katy -lay passively in his arms, her face so white, and the dark -rings about her eyes showing so distinctly that Wilford did -not press her when she declined his mother’s invitation. -He could go, she said, urging so many reasons why he -should that, for the first time since their marriage, he left -her alone, and went where Sybil Grandon smiled her sunniest -smile, and put forth her most persuasive powers to keep -him at her side, expressing so much regret that he did not -bring “his charming little wife, who completely won her -heart, she was so child-like and simple-hearted, laughing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>so merrily when she discovered the flour on her hair, but -not seeming to mind it in the least. Really, she did not -see how it happened that he was fortunate enough to win -such a domestic treasure. Where did he find her?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>If Sybil Grandon meant this to be complimentary, it -was not received as such. Wilford, almost grating his -teeth with vexation as he listened to it, and feeling doubly -mortified with Katy, whom he found waiting for him, -when at a late hour he left the society of Sybil Grandon -and repaired to his home.</p> - -<p class='c011'>To Katy the time of his absence had seemed an age, -for her thoughts had been busy with the past, gathering -up every incident connected with her married life since -she came to New York, and deducing from them the conclusion -that “Wilford’s folks” were ashamed of her, and -that Wilford himself might perhaps become so if he were -not already. That would be worse than death itself, and -the darkest hours she had ever known were those she spent -alone that night, sobbing so violently as to bring on a -racking headache, which showed itself upon her face and -touched Wilford at once.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sybil Grandon was forgotten in those moments of contrition, -when he ministered so tenderly to his suffering -wife, whom he felt that he had wronged. But he could -not tell her so then. It was not natural for him to confess -his errors. There had always been a struggle between his -duty and his pride when he had done so, and now the -latter conquered, especially as Katy, grown more calm, -began to take the censure to herself, lamenting her short-comings, -and promising to do better, even to the imitating -of Sybil Grandon, if that would make him forget the past -and love her as before.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford could accord forgiveness far more graciously -than he could ask it, and so peace was restored, and -Katy’s face next day looked bright and happy when seen -in her new carriage, which took her down Broadway to -Stewart’s, where she encountered Sybil Grandon, and with -her Juno Cameron.</p> - -<p class='c011'>From the latter Katy instinctively shrank, but she could -not resist the former, who greeted her so familiarly that -Katy readily forgave her the pain of which she had been -<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>the cause, and spoke of her to Wilford without a pang -when he came home to dinner. Still she could not overcome -her dread of meeting her, and she grew more and -more averse to mingling in society, where she might do -many things to mortify her husband or his family, and -thus provoke a scene she hoped never again to pass through.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, if Helen were only here!” she thought, as she -began to experience a sensation of loneliness she had never -felt before.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Helen was not there, nor coming there at present. -One word from Wilford had settled that, convincing Katy -that it was better to wait until the autumn, inasmuch as -they were going so soon to Saratoga and Newport, places -which Katy dreaded, after she knew that Mrs. Cameron -and Juno were to be of the party, and probably Sybil -Grandon. Katy did not dislike the latter, but she was -never easy in her presence, while she could not deny to -herself that since Sybil’s return Wilford had not been -quite the same as before. In company he was more attentive -than ever, but at home he was sometimes moody and -silent, while Katy strove in vain to ascertain the cause.</p> - -<p class='c011'>They were not as happy in the new home as she had -expected to be, but the fault did not lie with Katy. She -performed her part and more, taking upon her young -shoulders the whole of the burden which her husband -should have helped her to bear. The easy, indolent life -Wilford had led so long as a petted son of a partial mother -unfitted him for care, and he was as much a boarder in his -own home as he had even been in the hotels in Paris, -thoughtlessly requiring of Katy more than he should have -required, so that Bell was not far from right when in her -journal she described her sister-in-law as “a little servant -whose feet were never supposed to be tired, and whose -wishes were never consulted.” It is true Bell had put it -rather strongly, but the spirit of what she said was right, -Wilford seldom considering Katy, or allowing her wishes -to interfere with his own plans; while accustomed to every -possible attention from his mother, he exacted the same -from his wife, whose life was not one of unmixed happiness, -notwithstanding that every letter home bore assurances -to the contrary.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XVIII.<br> <span class='large'>MARIAN HAZELTON.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>The last days of June had come, and Wilford was -beginning to make arrangements for removing Katy from -the city before the warmer weather. To this he had been -urged by Mark Ray’s remarking that Katy was not looking -as well as when he first saw her, one year ago. “She -has grown thin and pale,” he said. “Had Wilford -remarked it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford had not. She complained much of headache, -but that was only natural. Still he wrote to the Mountain -House that afternoon to secure rooms for himself -and wife, and then at an earlier hour than usual went -home to tell her of the arrangement. Katy was out -shopping, Esther said, and had not yet returned, adding,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“There is a note for her up stairs, left by a woman who -I guess came for work.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>That a woman should come for work was not strange, -but that she should leave a note seemed rather too familiar; -and when on going to the library he saw it upon the table, -he took it in his hand and examined the superscription -closely, holding it up to the light and forgetting to open -it in his perplexity and the train of thought it awakened.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“They are singularly alike,” he said, and still holding -the note in his hand he opened a drawer of his writing -desk, which was always kept locked, and took from it a -<em>picture</em> and a bit of soiled paper, on which was written, -“I am <em>not</em> guilty, Wilford, and God will never forgive the -wrong you have done to me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was no name or date, but Wilford knew whose -hand had penned those lines, and he sat comparing them -with the “Mrs. Wilford Cameron” which the strange -woman had written. Then opening the note, he read that, -having returned to New York, and wishing employment -either as seamstress or dressmaker, Marian Hazelton had -ventured to call upon Mrs. Cameron, remembering her -promise to give her work if she should desire it.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>“Who is Marian Hazelton?” Wilford asked himself as -he threw down the missive. “Some of Katy’s country -friends, I dare say. Seems to me I have heard that name. -She certainly writes as Genevra did, except that this Hazelton’s -is more decided and firm. Poor Genevra!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a pallor about Wilford’s lips as he said this, -and taking up the picture he gazed for a long time upon -the handsome, girlish face, whose dark eyes seemed to -look reproachfully upon him, just as they must have looked -when the words were penned, “God will never forgive -the wrong you have done to me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Genevra was mistaken,” he said. “At least if God -has not forgiven, he has prospered me, which amounts -to the same thing;” and without a single throb of gratitude -to Him who had thus prospered him, Wilford laid -Genevra’s picture and Genevra’s note back with the withered -grass and flowers plucked from Genevra’s grave, -just as Katy’s ring was heard and Katy herself came -in.</p> - -<p class='c011'>As thoughts of Genevra always made Wilford kinder -towards his wife, so now he kissed her white cheek, noticing -that, as Mark had said, it was whiter than last -year in June. But mountain air would bring back the -roses, he thought, as he handed her the note.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, yes, from Marian Hazelton,” Katy said, glancing -first at the name and then hastily reading it through.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Who is Marian Hazelton?” Wilford asked, and Katy -replied by repeating all she knew of Marian, and how she -chanced to know her at all. “Don’t you remember Helen -wrote that she fainted at our wedding, and I was so sorry, -fearing I might have overworked her?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford did remember something about it, and then -dismissing Marian from his mind, he told Katy of his -plan for taking her to the Mountain House a few weeks -before going to Saratoga.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Would you not like it?” he asked, as she continued -silent, with her eyes fixed upon the window opposite.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” and Katy drew a long and weary breath. “I -shall like any place where there are birds, and rocks, and -trees, and real grass, such as grows of itself in the country; -but Wilford,” and Katy crept close to him now, “if I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>might go to Silverton, I should get strong so fast! You -don’t know how I long to see home once more. I dream -about it nights and think about it days, knowing just -how pleasant it is there, with the roses in bloom and the -meadows so fresh and green. May I go, Wilford? May -I go home to mother?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Had Katy asked for half his fortune, just as she asked -to go home, Wilford would have given it to her; but -Silverton had a power to lock all the softer avenues of -his heart, and so he answered that the Mountain House -was preferable, that the rooms were engaged, and that as -he should enjoy it so much better he thought they would -make no change.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy did not cry, nor utter a word of remonstrance; -she was learning that quiet submission was better than -useless opposition, and so Silverton was again given up. -But there was one consolation. Seeing Marian Hazelton -would be almost as good as going home, for had she not -recently come from that neighborhood, bringing with her -the odor from the hills and freshness from the woods? -Perhaps, too, she had lately seen Helen or Morris at -church, and had heard the music of the organ which -Helen played, and the singing of the children just as it -sometimes came to Katy in her dreams, making her start -in her sleep and murmur snatches of the sacred songs -which Dr. Morris had taught. Yes, Marian could tell -her of all this, and very impatiently Katy waited for the -morning when she started for No.—— Fourth Street, with -the piles of sewing intended for Marian.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was a fault of Marian’s not to remain long contented -in any place. Tiring of the country, she had returned to -the city, and thinking she might succeed better alone, had -hired a room far up the narrow stairway of a high, sombre-looking -building, and then from her old acquaintances, -of whom she had several in the city, she had solicited work. -More than once she had passed the handsome house on -Madison Square where Katy lived, walking slowly, and -contrasting it with her <em>one</em> room, which was not wholly -uninviting, for where Marian went there was always an -air of comfort; and Katy, as she crossed the threshold, -uttered an exclamation of delight at the cheerful, airy -<span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>aspect of the apartment, with its bright ingrain carpet, -its simple shades of white, its chintz-covered lounge, its -one rocking-chair, its small parlor stove, and its pots of -flowers upon the broad window sill.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh Marian,” she exclaimed, tripping across the floor, -and impulsively throwing her arms around Miss Hazelton’s -neck, “I am so glad to meet some one from home. It -seems almost like Helen I am kissing,” and her lips -again met those of Marian Hazelton, amid her joy at -finding Katy unchanged, wondered what the Camerons -would say to see their Mrs. Wilford kissing a poor seamstress -whom they would have spurned.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Katy did not care for <em>Camerons</em> then, or even -think of them, as in her rich basquine and pretty hat, -with emeralds and diamonds sparkling on her fingers, -she sat down by Marian.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Tell me of Silverton; you don’t know how I want to -go there; but Wilford does not think it best, at present. -Next fall I am surely going, and I picture to myself just -how it will look: Morris’s garden, full of the autumnal -flowers—the ripe peaches in our orchard, the grapes -ripening on the wall, and the long shadows on the grass, -just as I used to watch them, wondering what made -them move so fast, and where they could be going. Will -it be unchanged, Marian? Do places seem the same when -once we have left them?” and Katy’s eager eyes looked -wistfully at Marian, who replied, “Not always—not often, -in fact; but in your case they may. You have not been -long away.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Only a year,” Katy said. “I was as long as that in -Canandaigua; but this past year is different. I have -seen so much, and lived so much, that I feel ten years -older than I did last spring, when you and Helen made -my wedding dress. Darling Helen! When did you see -her last?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I was there five weeks ago,” Marian replied; “I saw -them all, and told them I was coming to New York.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do they miss me any? Do they talk of me? Do they -wish me back again?” Katy asked, and Marian replied, -“They talked of little else, that is your own family. Dr. -Morris, I think, did not mention your name. He has -<span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>grown very silent and reserved,” and Marian’s eyes were -fixed inquiringly upon Katy, as if to ascertain how much -she knew of the cause for Morris’s reserve.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Katy had no suspicion, and only replied, “Perhaps -he is vexed that I do not write to him oftener, but -I can’t. I think of him a great deal, and respect him -more than any living man, except, of course, Wilford; -but when I try to write, something comes in between me -and what I wish to say, for I want to convince him that -I am <em>not</em> as frivolous as he thinks I am. I have <em>not</em> forgotten -the Sunday-school, nor the church service; but in -the city it is so hard to be good, and the service and -music seem all for show, and I feel so hateful when I see -Juno and Wilford’s mother putting their heads down on -velvet cushions, knowing as I do that they both are -thinking either of their own bonnets or those just in -front.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Are you not a little uncharitable?” Marian asked, -laughing in spite of herself at the picture Katy drew of -fashion trying to imitate religion in its humility.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Perhaps so,” Katy answered. “I grow bad from looking -behind the scenes, and the worst is that I do not care,” -and then Katy went back again to the farm-house asking -numberless questions and reaching finally the <em>business</em> -which had brought her to Marian’s room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There were spots on Marian’s neck, and her lips were -white, as she grasped the bundles tossed into her lap—the -yards and yards of lace and embroidery, linen, and -cambric, which she was expected to make for the wife of -Wilford Cameron; and her voice was husky as she asked -directions or made suggestions of her own.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s because she has no such joy in expectation. I -should feel so, too, if I were thirty and unmarried,” Katy -thought, as she noticed Marian’s agitation, and tried to -divert her mind by talking of Europe and the places she -had visited.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“By the way, you were born in England? Were you -ever at Alnwick?” Katy asked, and Marian replied, “Once, -yes. I’ve seen the castle and the church. Did you go -there—to St. Mary’s, I mean?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, yes, and I was never tired of that old churchyard. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>Wilford liked it, too, and we wandered by the hour -among the sunken graves and quaint headstones.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do you remember any of the names upon the stones? -Perhaps I may know them?” Marian asked; but Katy -did not remember any, or if she did, it was not “Genevra -Lambert, aged 22.” And so Marian asked her no more -questions concerning Alnwick, but talked instead of London -and other places, until three hours went by, and down -in the street the coachman chafed and fretted at the long -delay, wondering what kept his mistress in that neighborhood -so long. Had she friends, or had she come on some -errand of mercy? The latter most likely, he concluded, -and so his face was not quite so cross when Katy at last -appeared, looking at her watch and exclaiming at the -lateness of the hour.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy was very happy that morning, for seeing Marian -had brought Silverton near to her, and airy as a bird she -ran up the steps of her own dwelling, where the door -opened as by magic, and Wilford himself confronted her, -asking, with the tone which always made her heart beat, -where she had been, and he waiting for her two whole -hours. “Surely it was not necessary to stop so long with -a seamstress,” he continued when she tried to explain. -“Ten minutes would suffice for directions,” and he could -not imagine what attraction there was in Miss Hazelton -to keep her there three hours, and then the real cause of -his vexation came out. He had come expressly for the -carriage to take her and Sybil Grandon to a picnic up -the river, whither his mother, Juno and Bell, had already -gone. Mrs. Grandon must wonder why he stayed so long, -and perhaps give up going. Could Katy be ready soon? -and Wilford walked rapidly up and down the parlor with -a restless motion of his hands which always betokened -impatience. Poor Katy! how the brightness of the morning -faded, and how averse she felt to joining that picnic, which -she knew had been in prospect for some time, and had -fancied she should enjoy! But not to-day, with that look -on Wilford’s face, and the feeling that he was vexed. -Still she could think of no reasonable excuse, and so an -hour later found her driving into the country with Sybil -Grandon, who received her apologies with as much good-natured -<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>grace as if she too had not worked herself into -a passion at the delay, for Sybil had been very cross and -impatient; but all this vanished when she met Wilford -and saw that he was disturbed and irritated. Soft, and -sweet, and smooth was she both in word and manner, so -that by the time the grove was reached Wilford’s ruffled -spirits had been soothed, and he was himself again, ready -to enjoy the pleasures of the day as keenly as if no harsh -word had been said to Katy, who, silent and unhappy, -listened to the graceful badinage between Sybil and her -husband, thinking how differently his voice had sounded -when addressing her only a little while before.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Pray put some animation into your face, or Mrs. -Grandon will think we have been quarreling,” Wilford -whispered, as he lifted his wife from the carriage, and -with a great effort Katy tried to be gay and natural.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But all the while she was fighting back her tears and -wishing she were away. Even Marian’s room, looking into -the dingy court, was preferable to that place, and she was -glad when the long day came to an end, and with a fearful -headache she was riding back to the city.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The next morning was dark and rainy; but in spite of -the weather Katy found her way to Marian’s room, this -time taking the —— avenue cars, which left her independent -as regarded the length of her stay. About Marian there -was something more congenial than about her city friends, -and day after day found her there, watching while Marian -fashioned into shape the beautiful little garments, the -sight of which had a strangely quieting influence upon -Katy, sobering her down and maturing her more than all -the years of her life had done. Those were happy hours -spent with Marian Hazelton, and Katy felt it keenly when -Wilford at last interfered, telling her she was growing -quite too familiar with that sewing woman, and her calls -must be discontinued, except, indeed, such as were necessary -to the work in progress.</p> - -<p class='c011'>With one great gush of tears, when there was no one -to see her, Katy gave Marian up, writing her a note, in -which were sundry directions for the work, which would -go on even after she had left for the Mountain House, -as she intended doing the last of June. And Marian -<span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>guessed at more than Katy meant she should, and with -a bitter sigh laid it in her basket, and then resumed the -work, which seemed doubly monotonous now that there -was no more listening for the little feet tripping up the -stairs, or for the bird-like voice which had brought so -much of music and sunshine to her lonely room.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XIX.<br> <span class='large'>SARATOGA AND NEWPORT.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>For three weeks Katy had been at the Mountain House, -growing stronger every day, until she was much like the -Katy of one year ago. But their stay among the Catskills -was ended, and on the morrow they were going to Saratoga, -where Mrs. Cameron and her daughters were, and -where, too, was Sybil Grandon, the reigning belle of the -United States. So Bell had written to her brother, bidding -him hasten on with Katy, as she wished to see “that chit -of a widow in her proper place.” And Katy had been -weak enough for a moment to feel a throb of satisfaction -in knowing how effectually Sybil’s claims to belle-ship -would be put aside when she was once in the field; -even glancing at herself in the mirror as she leaned on -Wilford’s shoulder, and feeling glad that mountain air -and mountain exercise had brought the roses back to her -white cheeks and the brightness to her eyes. But Katy -wept passionate tears of repentance for that weakness, -when an hour later she read the letter which Dr. Grant -had sent in answer to one she had written from the Mountain -House, confessing her short-comings, and lamenting -that the evils and excesses which shocked her once did -not startle her now. To this letter Morris had replied -as a brother might write to an only sister, first expressing -pleasure at her happiness, and then reminding her of -that other life to which this is only a preparation, and beseeching -her so to use the good things of this world, given -her in such profusion, as not to lose the life eternal.</p> - -<p class='c011'>This was the substance of Morris’s letter, which Katy -read with streaming eyes, forgetting Saratoga as Morris’s -solemn words of warning and admonition rang in her -ears, and shuddering as she thought of losing the life -<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>eternal, of going where Morris would never come, nor -any of those she loved the best, unless it were Wilford, -who might reproach her with having dragged him there -when she could have saved him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Keep yourself unspotted from the world,” Morris had -said, and she repeated it to herself, asking “how shall I -do that? how can one be good and fashionable too?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then laying her head upon the rock where she was -sitting, Katy tried to pray as she had not prayed in -months, asking that God would teach her what she ought -to know and keep her unspotted from the world. But at -the Mountain House it is easier to pray that one be kept -from temptation than it is at Saratoga, which this summer -was crowded to overflowing, its streets presenting a -fitting picture of Vanity Fair, so full were they of show -and gala dress. At the United States, where Mrs. Cameron -stopped, two rooms, for which an enormous price was paid, -had been reserved for Mr. and Mrs. Wilford Cameron, and -this of itself would have given them a certain éclat, even -if there had not been present many who remembered the -proud, fastidious bachelor, and were proportionately anxious -to see his wife. <em>She came, she saw, she conquered</em>; -and within three days after her arrival Katy Cameron -was the acknowledged belle of Saratoga, from the United -States to the Clarendon. And Katy, alas, was not quite -the same as she who on the mountain ridge had sat with -Morris’s letter in her hand, praying that its teachings -might not be forgotten. Saratoga seemed different to her -from New York, and she plunged into its gaieties, never -pausing, never tiring, and seldom giving herself time to -think; much less to pray, as Morris had bidden her do. -And Wilford, though hardly able to recognize the usually -timid Katy in the brilliant woman who led rather than -followed, was sure of her faith to him, and so was only -proud and gratified to see her bear off the palm from -every competitor, while Juno, though she quarreled with -the shadow into which she was so completely thrown, -enjoyed the éclat cast upon their party by the presence of -Mrs. Wilford, who had passed beyond her criticism. Sybil -Grandon, too, stood back in wonder that a simple country -girl should win and wear the laurels she had so long -<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>claimed as her own; but as there was no help for it she -contented herself as best she could with the admiration -she did receive, and whenever opportunity occurred, said -bitter things of Mrs. Wilford, whose parentage and low -estate were through her pretty generally known. But it -did not matter there what Katy <em>had been</em>; the people took -her for what she <em>was now</em>, and Sybil’s glory faded like -the early dawn in the coming of the full day.</p> - -<p class='c011'>As it had been at Saratoga, so it was at Newport. Urged -on by Mrs. Cameron and Bell, who enjoyed her notoriety, -Katy plunged into the mad excitement of dancing and -driving and coqueting, until Wilford himself became uneasy, -locking her once in her room, where she was sleeping -after dinner, and conveniently forgetting to release her -until after the departure at evening of some young men -from Cambridge, whose attentions to the Ocean House -belle had been more strongly marked than was altogether -agreeable to him. Of course it was a mistake—the locking -of the door—and a great oversight in him not to have -remembered it sooner, he said to Katy, by way of apology; -and Katy, with no suspicion of the truth, laughed merrily -at the joke, repeating it downstairs to the old dowagers, -who shrugged their shoulders meaningly and whispered -to each other that it might be well if more young wives -were locked into their rooms and thus kept out of -mischief.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Though flattered, caressed, and admired, Katy was not -doing herself much credit at Newport; but save Wilford, -there was no one to raise a warning voice, until Mark Ray -came down for a few days’ respite from the heated city, -where he had spent the entire summer, taking charge -of the business which belonged as much to Wilford as to -himself. But Wilford had a wife; it was more necessary -that he should leave, Mark had argued; his time would -come by and by. And so he had remained at home until -the last of August, when he appeared suddenly at the -Ocean House one night when Katy, in her airy robes and -child-like simplicity, was breaking hearts by the score. -Like others, Mark was charmed, and not a little proud -for Katy’s sake, to see her thus appreciated; but when one -day’s experience had shown him more, and given him a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>look behind the scenes, he trembled for her, knowing how -hard it would be for her to come out of that sea of dissipation -as pure and spotless as she went in.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If I were her brother I would warn her that her -present career is not one upon which she will look back -with pleasure when the excitement is over,” he said to -himself; “but if Wilford is satisfied it is not for me to -interfere. It is surely nothing to me what Katy Cameron -does,” he kept repeating to himself; but as often as -he said it there came up before him a pale, anxious face, -shaded with Helen Lennox’s bands of hair, and Helen -Lennox’s voice whispered to him: “Save Katy, for my -sake,” and so next day, when Mark found himself alone -with Katy, while most of the guests were at the beach, he -questioned her of her life at Saratoga and Newport, and -gradually, as he talked, there crept into Katy’s heart a -suspicion that he was not pleased with her account, or -with what he had seen of her since his arrival.</p> - -<p class='c011'>For a moment Katy was indignant, but when he said -to her kindly: “Would Helen be pleased?” her tears -started at once, and she attempted an excuse for her weak -folly, accusing Sybil Grandon as the first cause of the ambition -for which she hated herself.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She had been held up as my pattern,” she said, half -bitterly, and forgetting to whom she was talking—“she, -the one whom I was to imitate; and when I found that -I could go beyond her, I yielded to the temptation, and -exulted to see how far she was left behind. Besides that,” -she continued, “is it no gratification, think you, to let -Wilford’s proud mother and sister see the poor country -girl, whom ordinarily they would despise, stand where they -cannot come, and even dictate to them if she chooses so -to do? I know it is wrong—I know it is wicked—but I -like the excitement, and so long as I am with these people -I shall never be any better. Mark Ray, you don’t know -what it is to be surrounded by a set who care for nothing -but fashion and display, and how they may outdo each -other. I hate New York society. There is nothing there -but husks.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy’s tears had ceased, and on her white face there -was a new look of womanhood, as if in that outburst -<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>she had changed, and would never again be just what she -was before.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Say,” she continued, “do <em>you</em> like New York society?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not always—not wholly,” Mark answered; “and still -you misjudge it greatly, for all are not like the people -you describe. Your husband’s family represent one extreme, -while there are others equally high in the social -scale who do not make fashion the rule of their lives—sensible, -cultivated, intellectual people, of whose acquaintance -one might be glad—people whom I fancy your sister -Helen would enjoy. I have only met her twice, but my -impression is that <em>she</em> would not find New York distasteful.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mark did not know why he had dragged Helen into -that conversation, unless it were that she seemed very near -to him as he talked with Katy, who replied:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, Helen finds good in all. She sees differently -from what I do, and I wish so much that she was here.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why not send for her?” Mark asked, casting about in -his mind whether in case Helen came, he, too, could tarry -for a week and leave that business in Southbridge, which -he must attend to ere returning to the city.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It would be a study to watch Helen Lennox there at -Newport, and in imagination Mark was already her sworn -knight, shielding her from criticism, and commanding -for her respect from those who respected him, when Katy -tore his castle down by answering impulsively:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I doubt if Wilford would let me send for her, nor -does it matter, as I shall not remain much longer. I -do not need her now, since you have shown me how -foolish I have been. I was angry at first, but now I thank -you for it, and so will Helen. I shall tell her when I -am in Silverton. I am going there from here and oh, -I so wish it was to-day.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The guests were beginning to return from the beach -by this time, and as Mark had said all he had intended -saying, he left Katy with Wilford, who had just come in -and joined a merry party of Bostonians only that day arrived. -That night at the Ocean House the guests missed -something from their festivities; the dance was not so exhilarating -or the small-talk between so lively, while more -<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>than one white-kidded dandy swore mentally at the innocent -Wilford, whose wife declined to join in the gayeties, -and in a plain white muslin, with only a pond lily in her -hair, kept by her husband’s side, notwithstanding that he -bade her leave him and accept some of her numerous -invitations to join the giddy dance. This sober phase of -Katy did not on the whole please Wilford as much as -her gayer ones had done. All he had ever dreamed of the -sensation his bride would create was more than verified. -Katy had fulfilled his highest expectations, reaching a -point from which, as she had said to Mark, she could -dictate to his mother, if she chose, and he did not care -to see her relinquish it.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Katy remained true to herself. Dropping her -girlish playfulness, she assumed a quiet, gentle dignity, -which became her even better than her gayer mood had -done, making her ten times more popular and more sought -after, until she begged to go away, persuading Wilford -at last to name the day for their departure, and then, -never doubting for a moment that her destination was -Silverton, she wrote to Helen that she should be home -on such a day, and as they would come by way of Providence -and Worcester, they would probably reach West -Silverton at ten o’clock, A. M.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Wilford,” she added in a postscript, “has gone down -to bathe, and as the mail is just closing, I shall send this -letter without his seeing it. Of course it can make no -difference, for I have talked all summer of coming, and -he understands it.”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XX.<br> <span class='large'>MARK RAY AT SILVERTON.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>The last day of summer was dying out in a fierce storm -of rain which swept in sheets across the Silverton hills, -hiding the pond from view, and beating against the windows -of the farm-house, whose inmates were nevertheless -unmindful of the storm save as they hoped the morrow -would prove bright and fair, such as the day should be -which brought them back their Katy. Nearly worn out -with constant reference was her letter, the mother catching -<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>it up from time to time to read the part referring -to herself, where Katy had told how blessed it would be -“to rest again on mother’s bed,” just as she had so often -wished to do, “and hear mother’s voice;” the deacon spelling -out by his spluttering tallow candle, with its long, -smoky wick, what she had said of “darling old Uncle -Eph,” and the rides into the fields; Aunt Betsy, too, reading -mostly from memory the words: “Good old Aunt -Betsy, with her skirts so limp and short, tell her she will -look handsomer to me than the fairest belle at Newport;” -and as often as Aunt Betsy read it she would ejaculate: -“The land! what kind of company must the child have -kept?” wondering next if Helen had never written of -the <em>hoop</em>, for which she paid a dollar, and which was -carefully hung in her closet, waiting for the event of to-morrow, -while the hem of her pongee had been let down -and one breadth gored to accommodate the hoop. On the -whole, Aunt Betsy expected to make a stylish appearance -before the little lady of whom she stood in awe, always -speaking of her to the neighbors as “My niece, Miss Cammen, -from New York,” and taking good care to report what -she had heard of “Miss Cammen’s” costly dress and the -grandeur of her house, where the furniture of the best -chamber cost over fifteen hundred dollars.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What could it be?” Aunt Betsy had asked in her simplicity, -feeling an increased respect for Katy, and consenting -the more readily to the change in her pongee, as -suggested to her by Helen.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But that was for to-morrow when Katy came; to-night -she only wore a dotted brown, whose hem just reached the -top of her “bootees,” as she went to strain the milk brought -in by Uncle Ephraim, while Helen took her position near -the window, looking drearily out upon the leaden clouds, -and hoping it would brighten before the morrow. Like -the others, Helen had read Katy’s letter many times, -dwelling longest upon the part which said: “I have been -so bad, so frivolous and wicked here at Newport, that it -will be a relief to make you my confessor, depending, as -I do, upon your love to grant me absolution.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>From a family in Silverton, who had spent a few days -at a private house in Newport, Helen had heard something -<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>of her sister’s life; the lady had seen her once driving a -tandem team down the avenue, with Wilford at her side -giving her instructions. Since then there had been some -anxiety felt for her at the farm-house, and more than Dr. -Grant had prayed that she might be kept unspotted from the -world; but when her letter came, so full of love and self-reproaches, -the burden was lifted, and there was nothing -to mar the anticipations of the event for which they had -made so many preparations, Uncle Ephraim going to the -expense of buying at auction a half-worn covered buggy, -which he fancied would suit Katy better than the corn-colored -wagon in which she used to ride. To pay for this -the deacon had parted with the money set aside for the -“<em>great coat</em>” he so much needed for the coming winter, -his old gray having done him service for fifteen years. -But his comfort was nothing compared with Katy’s happiness, -and so, with his wrinkled face beaming with delight, -he had brought home his buggy, putting it carefully in -the barn, and saying no one should ride in it till Katy -came. With untiring patience the old man mended up his -harness, for what he had heard of Katy’s driving had impressed -him strongly with her powers of horsemanship, -and raised her somewhat in his respect. Could he have -afforded it Uncle Ephraim in his younger days would -have been a horse jockey, and even now he liked nothing -better than to make Old Whitey run when alone in the -strip of woods between his house and the head of the -pond.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Katy inherits her love of horses from me,” he said -complacently; and with a view of improving Whitey’s -style and mettle, he took to feeding him on oats, talking -to him at times, and telling him who was coming.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Dear, simple-hearted Uncle Ephraim! the days which -he must wait seemed long to him as they did to the other -members of his family. But they were all gone now,—Katy -would be home on the morrow, and with the shutting -in of night the candles were lighted in the sitting-room, -and Helen sat down to her work, wishing it was to-night -that Katy was coming. As if in answer to her wish there -was the sound of wheels, which stopped before the house, -and dropping her work Helen ran quickly to the door, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>just as from under the dripping umbrella held by a driver -boy, a tall young man sprang upon the step, nearly upsetting -her, but passing an arm around her shoulders in -time to keep her from falling.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I beg pardon for this assault upon you,” the stranger -said; and then turning to the boy he continued: “It’s -all right, you need not wait.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>With a chirrup and a blow the horse started forward, -and the mud-bespattered vehicle was moving down the -road ere Helen had recovered her surprise at recognizing -Mark Ray, who shook the rain-drops from his hair, and -offering her his hand said in reply to her involuntary -exclamation: “I thought it was Katy,” “Shall I infer then -that I am the less welcome?” and his bright, saucy eyes -looked laughingly into hers. Business had brought him -to Southbridge, he said, and it was his intention to take -the cars that afternoon for New York, but having been -detained longer than he expected, and not liking the looks -of the hotel arrangements, he had decided to presume -upon his acquaintance with Dr. Grant, and spend the -night at Linwood. “But,” and again his eyes looked -straight at Helen, “it rained so hard and the light from -your window was so inviting that I ventured to stop, so -here I am, claiming your hospitality until morning, if -convenient; if not, I will find my way to Linwood.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was something in this pleasant familiarity which -won Uncle Ephraim at once, and he bade the young man -stay, as did Aunt Hannah and Mrs. Lennox, who now for -the first time was presented to Mark Ray. Always capable -of adapting himself to the circumstances around him, -Mark did so now with so much ease and courteousness as -to astonish Helen, and partly thaw the reserve she had assumed -when she found the visitor was from the hated -city.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Are you expecting Mrs. Cameron?” he asked, adding, -as Helen explained that she was coming to-morrow, “That -is strange. Wilford wrote decidedly that he should be in -New York to-morrow. Possibly, though, he does not intend -himself to stop.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I presume not,” Helen replied, a weight suddenly lifting -from her heart at the prospect of not having to entertain -<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>the formidable brother-in-law who, if he stayed long, -would spoil all her pleasure.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Thus at her ease on this point, she grew more talkative, -half wishing that her dress was not a shilling-calico, -or her hair combed back quite so straight, giving her that -severe look which Morris had said was unbecoming. It -was very smooth and glossy, and Sybil Grandon would have -given her best diamond to have had in her own natural -right the heavy coil of hair bound so many times around -the back of Helen’s head, and ornamented with neither -ribbon, comb, nor bow. Only a single geranium leaf, with -a white and scarlet blossom, was fastened just below the -ear, and on the side where Mark could see it best, admiring -its effect and forgetting the arrangement of the hair -in his admiration of the well-shaped head, bending so industriously -over the work which Helen had resumed—not -crocheting, nor yet embroidery, but the very homely work -of darning Uncle Ephraim’s socks, a task which Helen -always did, and on that particular night. Helen knew it -was not delicate employment, and there was a moment’s -hesitancy as she wondered what Mark would think—then, -with a grim delight in letting him see that she did not -care, she resumed her darning-needle, and as a kind of -penance for the flash of pride in which she had indulged, -selected from the basket the very coarsest, ugliest sock -she could find, stretching out the huge fracture at the heel -to its utmost extent, and attacking it with a right good -will, while Mark, with a comical look on his face, sat -watching her. She knew he was looking at her, and her -cheeks were growing very red, while her hatred of him -was increasing, when he said, abruptly: “You follow my -mother’s custom, I see. She used to mend my socks on -Tuesday nights.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Your mother mend socks!” and Helen started so suddenly -as to run the point of her darning-needle a long -way into her thumb, the wound bringing a stream of blood -which she tried to wipe away with her handkerchief.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Bind it tightly round. Let me show you, please,” -Mark said, and ere she was aware of what she was doing, -Helen was quietly permitting the young man to wind her -handkerchief around her thumb which he held in his hand, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>pressing it until the blood ceased flowing, and the sharp -pain had abated.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Perhaps Mark Ray liked holding that small, warm hand, -even though it were not as white and soft as Juno’s; at -all events he did hold it until Helen drew it from him with -a quick, sudden motion, telling him it would do very -well, and she would not trouble him. Mark did not look -as if he had been troubled, but went back to his seat and -took up the conversation just where the needle had -stopped it.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My mother did not always mend herself, but she -caused it to be done, and sometimes helped. I remember -she used to say a woman should know how to do everything -pertaining to a household, and she carried out her theory -in the education of my sister.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Have you a sister?” Helen asked, now really interested, -and listening intently while Mark told her of his -only sister Julia, now Mrs. Ernst, whose home was in New -Orleans, though she at present was in Paris, and his -mother was there with her. “After Julia’s marriage, nine -years ago, mother went to live with her,” he said, “but -latterly, as the little Ernsts increase so fast, she wishes for -a more quiet home, and this winter she is coming to New -York to keep house for me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Helen thought she might like Mark’s mother, who, he -told her, had been twice married, and was now Mrs. -Banker, and a widow. She must be different from Mrs. -Cameron; and Helen let herself down to another degree -of toleration for the man whose mother taught her daughter -to mend the family socks. Still there was about her a -reserve, which Mark wondered at, for it was not thus that -ladies were accustomed to receive his advances. He did -not guess that Wilford Cameron stood between him and -Helen’s good opinion; but when, after the family came in, -the conversation turned upon Katy and her life in New -York, the secret came out in the sharp, caustic manner -with which she spoke of New York and its people.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s Will and the Camerons,” Mark thought, blaming -Helen less than he would have done, if he, too, had not -known something of the Cameron pride.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was a novel position in which Mark found himself -<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>that night, an inmate of a humble farm-house, where he -could almost touch the ceiling with his hand, and where -his surroundings were so different from what he had been -accustomed to; but, unlike Wilford Cameron, he did not -wish himself away, nor feel indignant at Aunt Betsy’s -old-fashioned ways, or Uncle Ephraim’s grammar. He -noticed Aunt Betsy’s oddities, it is true, and noticed Uncle -Ephraim’s grammar; but the sight of Helen sitting there, -with so much dignity and self-respect, made him look -beyond all else, straight into her open face and clear brown -eyes, where there was nothing obnoxious or distasteful. -Her language was correct, her manner, saving a little stiffness, -lady-like and refined: and Mark enjoyed his situation -as self-invited guest, making himself so agreeable that -Uncle Ephraim forgot his hour of retiring, nor discovered -his mistake until, with a loud yawn, Aunt Betsy told him -that it was half-past nine, and she was “desput sleepy.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Owing to Helen’s influence there had been a change of -the olden custom, and instead of the long chapter, through -which Uncle Ephraim used to plod so wearily, there were -now read the Evening Psalms. Aunt Betsy herself joined -in the reading, which she mentally classed with the -“quirks,” but confessed to herself that it “was most as -good as the Bible.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>As there were only Prayer Books enough for the family, -Helen, in distributing them, purposely passed Mark by, -thinking he might not care to join them. But when the -verse came round to Helen he quickly drew his chair near -to hers, and taking one side of her book, performed his -part, while Helen’s face grew red as the blossoms in -her hair, and her hand, so near to Mark’s, trembled visibly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“A right nice chap, and not an atom stuck up,” was -Aunt Betsy’s mental comment, and then, as he often will -do, Satan followed the saintly woman even to her knees, -making her wonder if “Mr. Ray hadn’t some notion after -Helen.” She hoped not, for she meant that Morris should -have Helen, “though if ’twas to be it was, and she should -not go agin it;” and while Aunt Betsy thus settled the -case, Uncle Ephraim’s prayer ended, and the conscience-smitten -woman arose from her knees with the conviction -that “the evil one had got the better of her once,” mentally -<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>asking pardon for her wandering thoughts and promising -to do better.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mark was in no haste to retire, and when Uncle Ephraim -offered to conduct him to his room, he frankly answered -that he was not sleepy, adding, as he turned to Helen: -“Please let me stay until Miss Lennox finishes her socks. -There are several pairs yet undarned. I will not detain -you, though,” he continued, bowing to Uncle Ephraim, -who, a little uncertain what to do, finally departed, as did -Aunt Hannah and his sister, leaving Helen and her mother -to entertain Mark Ray. It had been Mrs. Lennox’s first -intention to retire also, but a look from Helen kept her, -and she sat down by that basket of socks, while Mark -wished her away. Awhile they talked of Katy and New -York, Mark laboring to convince Helen that its people -were not all heartless and fickle, and at last citing his -mother as an instance.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You would like mother, Miss Lennox. I hope you -will know her some time,” he said, and then they talked -of books, Helen forgetting that Mark was city-bred in -the interest with which she listened to him, while Mark -forgot that the girl who appreciated and understood his -views almost before they were expressed, was country born, -and clad in homely garb, with no ornaments save those -of her fine mind and the sparkling face turned so fully -towards him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mark Ray is not like Wilford Cameron,” Helen said -to herself, when as the clock was striking eleven she bade -him good night and went up to her room, and opening her -window she leaned her hot cheek against the wet casement, -and looked out upon the night, now so beautiful and -clear, for the rain was over, and up in the heavens the -bright stars were shining, each one bearing some resemblance -to Mark’s eyes as they kindled and grew bright with -his excitement, resting always kindly on her—on Helen, -who leaning thus from the window, felt stealing over her -that feeling which, once born, can never be quite forgotten.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Helen did not recognize the feeling, for it was a strange -one to her. She was only conscious of a sensation half -pleasurable, half sad, of which Mark Ray had been the -cause, and which she tried in vain to put aside. And then -<span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>there swept over her a feeling of desolation such as she -had never experienced before, a shrinking from living all -her life in Silverton, as she fully expected to do, and laying -her head upon the little stand, she cried passionately.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“This is weak, this is folly,” she suddenly exclaimed, -as she became conscious of acting as Helen Lennox was -not wont to act, and with a strong effort she dried her tears -and crept quietly to bed just as Mark was falling into his -first sleep and dreaming of smothering.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Helen would not have acknowledged it, and yet it was -a truth not to be denied, that she stayed next morning a -much longer time than usual before her glass, arranging -her hair, which was worn more becomingly than on the -previous night, and which softened the somewhat too intellectual -expression of her face, and made her seem more -womanly and modest. Once she thought to wear the light -buff gown in which she looked so well, but the thought -was repudiated as soon as formed, and donning the same -dark calico she would have worn if Mark had not been -there, she finished her simple toilet and went down stairs, -just as Mark came in at the side door, his hands full of -water lilies, and his boots bearing marks of what he had -been through to get them.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Early country air is healthful,” he said, “and as I -do not often have a chance to try it, I thought I would -improve the present opportunity. So I have been down by -the pond, and spying these lilies I persevered until I -reached them, in spite of mud and mire. There is no -blossom I like so well. Were I a young girl I would always -wear one in my hair, as your sister did one night at -Newport, and I never saw her look better. Just let me -try the effect on you;” and selecting a half-opened bud, -Mark placed it among Helen’s braids as skillfully as if -hair-dressing were one of his accomplishments. “The effect -is good,” he continued, turning her blushing face to -the glass and asking if it were not.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” Helen stammered, seeing more the saucy eyes -looking over her head than the lily in her hair. “Yes, -good enough, but hardly in keeping with this old dress,” -and vanity whispered the wish that the <em>buff</em> had really -been worn.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>“Your dress is suitable for morning, I am sure,” Mark -replied, turning a little more to the right the lily, and -noticing as he did so how very white and pretty was the -neck and throat seen above the collar.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mark liked a pretty neck, and he was glad to know that -Helen had one, though why he should care was a puzzle. -He could hardly have analyzed his feelings then, or told -what he did think of Helen. He only knew that by her -efforts to repel him she attracted him the more, she was -so different from any young ladies he had known—so different -from Juno, into whose hair he had never twined a -water lily. It would not become her as it did Helen, he -thought, as he sat opposite her at the table, admiring his -handiwork, which even Aunt Betsy observed, remarking -that “Helen was mightily spruced up for morning,” a -compliment which Helen acknowledged with a painful -blush, while Mark began a disquisition upon the nature of -lilies generally, which lasted until breakfast was ended.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was arranged that Mark should ride to the cars with -Uncle Ephraim when he went for Katy, and as this gave -him a good two hours of leisure, he spoke of Dr. Grant, -asking Helen if she did not suppose he would call round. -Helen thought it possible, and then remembering how -many things were to be done that morning, she excused -herself from the parlor, and repairing to the platform -out by the back door, where it was shady and cool, she -tied on a broad check apron, and rolling her sleeves above -her elbows, was just bringing the churn-dasher to bear -vigorously upon the thick cream she was turning into -butter, when, having finished his cigar, Mark went out -into the yard, and following the winding path came suddenly -upon her. Helen’s first impulse was to stop, but -with a strong nerving of herself she kept on while Mark, -coming as near as he dared, said to her: “Why do you do -that? Is there no one else?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No,” Helen answered; “that is, we keep no servant, -and my young arms are stronger than the others.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And <em>mine</em> are stronger still,” Mark laughingly rejoined, -as he put Helen aside and plied the dasher himself, -in spite of her protestations that he would certainly -ruin his clothes.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>“Tie that apron round me, then,” he said, with the -utmost nonchalance, and Helen obeyed, tying her check -apron around the young man’s neck, who felt her hands -as they touched his hair, and knew that they were brushing -queer fancies into his brain—fancies which made him -wonder what his mother would think of Helen, or what -she would say if she knew just how he was occupied that -morning, absolutely churning cream until it turned to -butter, for Mark persisted until the task was done, standing -by while Helen gathered up the golden lumps, and -admiring her plump, round arms quite as much as he had -her neck.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She would be a belle like her sister, though of a different -stamp, he thought, as he again bent down his head -while she removed the apron and disclosed more than one -big spot upon his broadcloth. Mark assured her that it -did not matter; his coat was nearly worn out, and any -way he never should regret that he had <em>churned</em> once in -his life, or forget it either; and then he asked if Helen -would be in New York the coming winter, talking of the -pleasure it would be to meet her there, until Helen began -to feel what she never before had felt, a desire to visit -Katy in her own home.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Remember if you come that I am your debtor for -numerous hospitalities,” he said, when he at last bade her -good-bye and sprang into the covered buggy, which Uncle -Ephraim had brought out in honor of Katy’s arrival.</p> - -<hr class='c014'> - -<p class='c011'>Old Whitey was hitched at a safe distance from all possible -harm. Uncle Ephraim had returned from the store -near by, laden with the six pounds of crush sugar and the -two pounds of real old Java he had been commissioned -to purchase with a view to Katy’s taste, and now upon -the platform at West Silverton his stood, with Mark Ray, -waiting for the arrival of the train just appearing in view -across the level plain.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s fifteen months since she went away,” he said, and -Mark saw that the old man’s form trembled with the excitement -of meeting her again, while his eyes scanned -<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>eagerly every window and door of the cars now slowly stopping -before him. “There, there!” and he laid his hand -nervously on Mark’s shoulder, as a white, jaunty feather -appeared in view; but that was not Katy, and the dim eyes -ran again along the whole line of the cars, from which -so many were alighting.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Katy did not come, and with a long breath of wonder -and disappointment the deacon said: “Can it be she -is asleep? Young man, you are spryer than I. Go -through the cars and find her.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mark knew there was plenty of time, and so he made -the tour of the cars, but found, alas, no Katy.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She’s not there,” was the report carried to the poor -old man, who tremblingly repeated the words: “Not -there, not come!” while over his aged face there broke -a look of touching sadness, which Mark never forgot, remembering -it always just as he remembered the big tear -drops which from his seat by the window he saw the old -man wipe away with his coat-sleeve, as whispering softly -to Whitey of his disappointment he unhitched the horse -and drove away alone.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Maybe she’s writ. I’ll go and see,” he said, and -driving to their regular office he found a letter directed -by Wilford Cameron, but written by Katy; but he could -not read it then, and thrusting it into his pocket he went -slowly back to the home where the tempting dinner was -prepared and the family waiting so eagerly for him. Even -before he reached them they knew of the disappointment, -for from the garret window Helen had watched the road -by which he would come, and when the buggy appeared -in sight she saw he was alone.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a mistake; Katy had missed the train, she -said to her mother and aunts, who hoped she might be -right. But Katy had not missed the train, as was indicated -by the letter which Uncle Ephraim without a word -put into Helen’s hand, leaning on old Whitey’s neck while -she read aloud the attempt at an explanation which Katy -had hurriedly written, a stain on the paper where a tear -had fallen, attesting her distress at the bitter disappointment.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Wilford did not know of the other letter,” she said, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>“and had made arrangements for her to go back with him -to New York, inasmuch as the house was already opened -and the servants there wanting a <em>head</em>; besides that, Wilford -had been absent so long that he could not possibly -stop at Silverton himself, and as he would not think of -living without her, even for a few days, there was no alternative -but for her to go with him on the boat directly -to New York. I am sorry, oh, so sorry, but indeed I am -not to blame,” she added in conclusion, and this was the -nearest approach there was to an admission that anybody -was to blame for this disappointment which cut so cruelly, -making Uncle Ephraim cry, as out in the barn he hung -away the mended harness and covered the new buggy, -which had been bought for naught.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I might have had the overcoat, for Katy will never -come home again, never. God grant that it’s the Cameron -pride, not hers that kept her from us,” the old man said, -as on the hay he knelt down and prayed that Katy had not -learned to despise the home where she was so beloved.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Katy will never come to us again,” seemed the prevailing -opinion at Silverton, where more than Uncle Ephraim -felt a chilling doubt at times as to whether she really -wished to come or not. If she did, it seemed easy of accomplishment -to those who knew not how perfect and complete -were the fetters thrown around her, and how unbending -the will which governed hers. Could they have seen -the look in Katy’s face when she first understood that she -was not going to Silverton, their hearts would have bled -for the thwarted creature who fled up the stairs to her own -room, where Esther found her twenty minutes later, cold -and fainting upon the bed, her face as white as ashes, and -her hands clenched so tightly that the nails left marks -upon the palms.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It was not strange that the poor child should faint—indeed, -it was only natural that nature should give way -after so many weeks of gayety, and she very far from -being strong,” Mrs. Cameron said to Wilford, who was -beginning to repent of his decision, and who but for that -remark perhaps might have revoked it.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Indeed, he made an attempt to do so when, as consciousness -came back, Katy lay so pale and still before him; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>but Katy did not understand him, or guess that he wished -her to meet him more than half the way, and so the verdict -was unchanged, and in a kind of bewilderment, Katy wrote -the hurried letter, feeling less actual pain than did its -readers, for the disappointment had stunned her for a -time, and all she could remember of the passage home on -that same night when Mark Ray sat with Helen in the -sitting-room at Silverton, was that there was a fearful -storm of rain mingled with lightning flashes and thunder -peals, which terrified the other ladies, but brought to her -no other sensation save that it would not be so very hard -to perish in the dark waters dashing so madly about the -vessel’s side.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXI.<br> <span class='large'>A NEW LIFE.</span></h2> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r c015'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>New York, December 16, 18—.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘TO MISS HELEN LENNOX, <span class='sc'>Silverton, Mass</span>:</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c005'>“Your sister is very ill. Come as soon as possible.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>W. Cameron</span>.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c011'>This was the purport of a telegram received at the farm-house -toward the close of a chill December day, and -Helen’s heart almost stopped its beating as she read it -aloud, and then looked in the white, scared faces of those -around her. Katy was very ill—dying, perhaps—or Wilford -had never telegraphed. What could it be? What -was the matter? Had it been somewhat later, they would -have known; but now all was conjecture, and in a half-distracted -state, Helen made her hasty preparations for the -journey of the morrow, and then sent for Morris, hoping -he might offer some advice or suggestion, for her to carry -to that sick room in New York.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Perhaps you will go with me,” Helen said. “You -know Katy’s constitution. You might save her life.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Morris shook his head. If he was needed they -might send and he would come, but not without; and so -next day he carried Helen to the cars, saying to her as they -were waiting for the train, “I hope for the best, but it -may be Katy will die. If you think so, tell her, oh, tell -<span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>her, of the better world, and ask if she is prepared? I -cannot lose her in Heaven.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And this was all the message Morris sent, though his -heart and prayers went after the rapid train which bore -Helen safely onward, until Hartford was reached, where -there was a long detention, so that the dark wintry night -had closed over the city ere Helen reached it, timid, anxious, -and wondering what she should do if Wilford was not -there to meet her. “He will be, of course,” she kept repeating -to herself, looking around in dismay, as passenger -after passenger left, seeking in stages and street cars a -swifter passage to their homes.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I shall soon be all alone,” she said, feeling some relief -as the car in which she was seated began at last to -move, and she knew she was being taken whither the others -had gone, wherever that might be.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is Miss Helen Lennox here?” sounded cheerily in her -ears as she stopped before the depot, and Helen uttered -a cry of joy, for she recognized the voice of Mark Ray, -who was soon grasping her hand, and trying to reassure -her, as he saw how she shrank from the noise and clamor -of New York, heard now for the first time. “Our carriage -is here,” he said, and in a moment she found herself -in a close-covered vehicle, with Mark sitting opposite, tucking -the warm blanket around her, asking if she were cold, -and paying those numberless little attentions so gratifying -to one always accustomed to act and think for herself.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Helen could not see Mark’s face distinctly; but full of -fear for Katy, she fancied there was a sad tone in his -voice, as if he were keeping back something he dreaded -to tell her; and then, as it suddenly occurred to her that -Wilford should have met her, not Mark, her great fear -found utterance in words, and leaning forward so that her -face almost touched Mark’s she said, “Tell me, Mr. Ray, -is Katy dead?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not dead, oh no, nor very dangerous, my mother hopes; -but she kept asking for you, and so my—that is, Mr. -Cameron sent the telegram.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was an ejaculatory prayer of thankfulness, and -then Helen continued, “Is it long since she was taken -sick?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>“Her little daughter will be a week old to-morrow,” -Mark replied; while Helen, with an exclamation of surprise -she could not repress, sank back into the corner, faint -and giddy with the excitement of this fact, which invested -little Katy with a new dignity, and drew her so much -nearer to the sister who could scarcely wait for the carriage -to stop, so anxious was she to be where Katy was, to kiss -her dear face once more, and whisper the words of love -she knew she must have longed to hear.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Awe-struck, bewildered and half terrified, Helen looked -up at the huge brown structure, which Mark designated -as “the place.” It was so lofty, so grand, so like the Camerons, -and so unlike the farm-house far away, that Helen -trembled as she followed Mark into the rooms flooded -with light, and seeming to her like fairy land. They were -so different from anything she had imagined, so much -handsomer than even Katy’s descriptions had implied, that -for the moment the sight took her breath away, and she -sank passively into the chair Mark brought for her, himself -taking her muff and tippet, and noting, as he did so, -that they were not mink, nor yet Russian sable, but well-worn, -well-kept fitch, such as Juno would laugh at and -criticise. But Helen’s dress was a matter of small moment -to Mark, and he thought more of the look in her -dark eyes than of all the furs in Broadway, as she said to -him, “You are very kind, Mr. Ray. I cannot thank you -enough.” This remark had been wrung from Helen by -the feeling of homesickness which swept over her, as she -thought how really alone she should be there, in her -sister’s house, on this first night of her arrival, if it were -not for Mark, thus virtually taking the place of the brother-in-law, -who should have been there to greet her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He was with Mrs. Cameron,” the servant said, and -taking out a card Mark wrote down a few words, and -handing it to the servant who had been looking curiously -at Helen, he continued standing until a step was heard -on the stairs and Wilford came quietly in.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was not a very loving meeting, but Helen was civil -and Wilford was polite offering her his hand and asking -some questions about her journey.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I was intending to meet you myself,” he said, “but -<span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>Mrs. Cameron does not like me to leave her, and Mark -kindly offered to take the trouble off my hands.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He was looking pale and anxious, while there was on -his face the light of a new joy, as if the little life begun -so short a time ago had brought an added good to him, -softening his haughty manner and making him even endurable -to the prejudiced sister watching him so closely.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Does Phillips know you are here?” he asked, answering -his own query by ringing the bell and bidding Esther, -who appeared, tell Phillips that Miss Lennox had arrived, -and wished for supper, explaining to Helen that since -Katy’s illness they had dined at three, as that accommodated -them the best.</p> - -<p class='c011'>This done and Helen’s baggage ordered to her room, he -seemed to think he had discharged his duty as host, and -as Mark had left he began to grow fidgety, for a tête-à-tête -with Helen was not what he desired. He had said to -her all he could think to say, for it never once occurred -to him to inquire after the deacon’s family. He had asked -for Dr. Grant, but his solicitude went no further, and the -inmates of the farm-house might have been dead and buried -for aught he knew to the contrary. The omission was not -made purposely, but because he really did not feel enough -of interest in people so widely different from himself even -to ask for them, much less to suspect how Helen’s blood -boiled as she detected the omission and imputed it to intended -slight, feeling glad when he excused himself, saying -he must go back to Katy, but would send his mother -down to see her. <em>His mother.</em> Then <em>she</em> was there, the -one whom Helen dreaded most of all, whom she had invested -with every possible terror, hoping now that she -would not be in haste to come down. She might have -spared herself anxiety on this point, as the lady in question -was not anxious to meet a person who, could she have -had her way, would not have been there at all.</p> - -<p class='c011'>From the first moment of consciousness after the long -hours of suffering Katy had asked for Helen, rather than -her mother.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Send for Helen; I am so tired, and she could always -rest me,” was her reply, when asked by Wilford what he -could do for her. “Send for Helen; I want her so -<span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>much,” she had said to Mrs. Cameron, when she came, repeating -the wish until a consultation was held between -the mother and son, touching the propriety of sending -for Helen. “She would be of no use whatever, and might -excite our Katy. Quiet is highly important just now,” -Mrs. Cameron had said, thus veiling under pretended concern -for Katy her aversion to the girl whose independence -in declining her dressmaker had never been forgiven, and -whom she had set down in her mind as rude and ignorant.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If her coming would do Katy harm she ought not to -come,” Wilford thought, while Katy in her darkened room -moaned on—</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Send for sister Helen; please send for sister Helen.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>At last, on the fourth day, Mrs. Banker, Mark Ray’s -mother, came to the house, and in consideration of the -strong liking she had evinced for Katy ever since her arrival -in New York, and the great respect felt for her by -Mrs. Cameron, she was admitted to the chamber and heard -the plaintive pleadings, “Send for sister Helen,” until -her motherly heart was touched, and as she sat with her -son at dinner she spoke of the young girl-mother moaning -so for Helen.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Whether it was Mark’s great pity for Katy, or whether -he was prompted by some more selfish motive, we do not -profess to say, but that he was greatly excited was very -evident from his manner as he exclaimed:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why not send for Helen, then? She is a splendid -girl, and they idolize each other. Talk of <em>her</em> injuring -Katy, that’s all a humbug. She is just fitted for a nurse. -Almost the sight of her would cure one of nervousness, she -is so calm and quiet.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This was what Mark said, and the next morning Mrs. -Banker’s carriage stood at the door of No.—— Madison -Square, while Mrs. Banker herself was talking to Wilford -in the library, and urging that Helen be sent for at once.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It may save her life. She is more feverish to-day than -yesterday, and this constant asking for her sister will wear -her out so fast,” she added, and that last argument prevailed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Helen was sent for, and now sat waiting in the parlor -for the coming of Mrs. Cameron. Wilford did not mean -<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>Katy to hear him as he whispered to his mother that Helen -was below; but she did, and her blue eyes flashed brightly -as she started from her pillow, exclaiming:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am so glad, so glad! Kiss me, Wilford, because I -am so glad. Does she know? Have you told her? Wasn’t -she surprised, and will she come up quick?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>They could not quiet her at once, and only the assurance -that unless she were more composed, Helen should not -see her that night, had any effect upon her; but when they -told her that, she lay back upon her pillow submissively, -and Wilford saw the great tears dropping from her hot -cheeks, while the pallid lips kept softly whispering -“Helen.” Then the sister love took another channel, and -she said:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She has not been to supper, and Phillips is always -cross at extras. Will somebody see to it. Send Esther to -me, please. Esther knows and is good-natured.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mother will do all that is necessary. She is going -down,” Wilford said; but Katy had quite as much fear -of leaving Helen to “mother” as to Phillips, and insisted -upon Esther until the latter came, receiving numerous injunctions -as to the jam, the sweetmeats, the peaches, and -the cold ham Helen must have, each one being remembered -as her favorite.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wholly unselfish, Katy thought nothing of herself or -the effort it cost her to care for Helen; but when it was -over and Esther was gone, she seemed so utterly exhausted -that Mrs. Cameron did not leave her, but stayed at her bedside, -until the extreme paleness was gone, and her eyes -were more natural. Meanwhile the supper, which as Katy -feared had made Phillips cross, had been arranged by -Esther, who conducted Helen to the dining-room, herself -standing by and waiting upon her because the one whose -duty it was had gone out for the evening, and Phillips -had declined the “honor,” as she styled it.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a homesick feeling tugging at Helen’s heart -while she tried to eat, and only the certainty that Katy -was not far away kept her tears back. To her the very -grandeur of the house made it desolate, and she was so -glad it was Katy who lived there and not herself as she -went up the soft carpeted stairway, which gave back no -<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>sound, and through the marble hall to the parlor, where, -by the table on which her cloak and furs were lying, a -lady stood, as dignified and unconscious as if she had not -been inspecting the self-same <em>fur</em> which Mark Ray had -observed, but not, like him, thinking it did not matter, -for it did matter very materially with her, and a smile -of contempt had curled her lip as she turned over the tippet -which Phillips would not have worn.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I wonder how long she means to stay, and if Wilford -will have to take her out,” she was thinking, just as Helen -appeared in the door and advanced into the room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>By herself, it was easy to slight Helen Lennox, but in -her presence Mrs. Cameron found it very hard to appear -as cold and distant as she had meant to do, for there -was something about Helen which commanded her respect, -and she went forward to meet her, offering her hand and -saying cordially:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Miss Lennox, I presume—my daughter Katy’s sister?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Helen had not expected this, and the warm flush which -came to her cheeks made her very handsome, as she returned -Mrs. Cameron’s greeting, and then asked more particularly -for Katy than she had yet done. For a while -they talked together, Mrs. Cameron noting carefully every -item of Helen’s attire, as well as the purity of her language -and her perfect repose of manner after the first stiffness -had passed away.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Naturally a lady as well as Katy; there must be good -blood somewhere, probably on the Lennox side,” was Mrs. -Cameron’s private opinion, while Helen, after a few moments, -began to feel far more at ease with Mrs. Cameron -than she had done in the dining-room with Esther waiting -on her, and the cross Phillips stalking once through the -room for no ostensible purpose except to get a sight of -her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Helen wondered at herself, and Mrs. Cameron wondered -too, trying to decide whether it were ignorance, conceit, -obtuseness, or what, which made her so self-possessed when -she was expected to appear so different.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Strong-minded,” was her final decision, as she said -at last, “We promised Katy she should see you to-night. -Will you go now?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>Then the color left Helen’s face and lips and her limbs -shook perceptibly, for the knowing she was soon to meet -her sister unnerved her; but by the time the door of Katy’s -room was reached she was herself again, and there was -no need for Mrs. Cameron to whisper, “Pray do not excite -her.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy heard her coming, and it required all Wilford’s -and the nurse’s efforts to keep her quiet.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Helen, Helen, darling, darling sister!” she cried, as -she wound her arms around Helen’s neck, and laid her -golden head on Helen’s bosom, sobbing in a low, mournful -way which told Helen more how she had been longed -for than did the weak voice which whispered, “I’ve wanted -you so much, oh Helen; you don’t know how much I’ve -missed you all the years I’ve been away. You will not -leave me now,” and Katy clung closer to the dear sister -who gently unclasped the clinging arms and put back upon -the pillow the quivering face, which she kissed so tenderly, -whispering in her own old half soothing, half commanding -way, “Be quiet now, Katy. It’s best that you should. No, -I will not leave you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Next to Dr. Grant Helen had more influence over Katy -than any living being, and it was very apparent now, for, -as if her presence had a power to soothe, Katy grew very -quiet, and utterly wearied out, slept for a few moments -with Helen’s hand fast locked in hers. When she awoke -the tired look was gone, and turning to her sister she said, -“Have you seen my baby?” while the young mother-love -which broke so beautifully over her pale face, made it the -face of an angel.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It seems so funny that it is Katy’s baby,” Helen said, -taking the puny little thing, which with its wrinkled face -and red, clinched fists was not very attractive to her, save -as she looked at it with Katy’s eyes.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She did not even kiss it, but her tears dropped upon its -head as she thought how short the time since up in the -old garret at home she had dressed rag dolls for the Katy -who was now a mother. And still in a measure she was -the same, hugging Helen fondly when she said good night, -and welcoming her so joyfully in the morning when she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>came again, telling her how just the sight of her sitting -there by baby’s crib did her so much good.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I shall get well so fast,” she said; and she was right, -for Helen was worth far more to her than all the physician’s -powders, and Wilford was glad that Helen came, -even if she did sometimes shock him with her independent -ways, upsetting all his plans and theories with regard to -Katy, and meeting him on other grounds with an opposition -as puzzling as it was new to him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>To Mrs. Cameron Helen was a study; she seemed to -care so little for what others might think of her, evincing -no hesitation, no timidity, when told the second day after -her arrival that Mrs. Banker was in the parlor, and had -asked to see Miss Lennox. Mrs. Cameron did not suspect -how under that calm, unmoved exterior, Helen was hiding -a heart which beat painfully as she went down to meet -the mother of Mark Ray, going first to her own room -to make some little change in her toilet, and wishing that -her dress was more like the dress of those around her—like -Mrs. Cameron’s, or even <em>Esther’s</em> and the fashionable -nurse’s. One glance she gave to the brown silk, Wilford’s -gift, but her good sense told her that the plain merino -she wore was more suitable to the sick room where she -spent her time, and so with a fresh collar and cuffs, and -another brush of her hair, she went to Mrs. Banker, forgetting -herself in her pleasure at finding in the stranger -a lady so wholly congenial and familiar, whose mild, dark -eyes rested so kindly on her, and whose pleasant voice had -something motherly in its tone, putting her at her ease, -and making her appear at her very best.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mrs. Banker was pleased with Helen, and she felt a kind -of pity for the young girl thrown so suddenly among -strangers, without even her sister to assist her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Have you been out at all?” she asked, and upon -Helen’s replying that she had not, she answered, “That is -not right. Accustomed to the fresh country air, you will -suffer from too close confinement. Suppose you ride with -me. My carriage is at the door, and I have a few hours’ -leisure. Tell your sister I insist,” she continued, as Helen -hesitated between inclination and what she fancied was her -duty.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>To see New York with Mrs. Banker was a treat indeed, -and Helen’s heart bounded high as she ran up to Katy’s -room with the request.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, go by all means,” Katy said. “It is so kind in -Mrs. Banker, and so like her, too. I meant that Wilford -should have driven with you to-day, and spoke to him -about it, but Mrs. Banker will do better. Tell her I thank -her so much for her thoughtfulness,” and with a kiss Katy -sent Helen away, while Mrs. Cameron, after twisting her -rings nervously for a moment, said to Katy:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Perhaps your sister will do well to wear your furs. -Hers are small, and common fitch.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, certainly. Take them to her,” Katy answered, -knowing intuitively the feeling which had prompted this -suggestion from her mother-in-law, who hastened to -Helen’s room with the rich sable she was to wear in place -of the old fitch.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Helen appreciated the difference at once between her -furs and Katy’s and felt a pang of mortification as she -saw how old and poor and <em>dowdy</em> hers were beside the -others. But they were her own—the best she could afford. -She would not begin by borrowing, and so she declined -the offer, and greatly to Mrs. Cameron’s horror -went down to Mrs. Banker clad in the despised furs, which -Mrs. Cameron would on no account have had beside her -on Broadway in an open carriage. Mrs. Banker noticed -them, too, but the eager, happy face, which grew each moment -brighter as they drove down the street, more than -made amends; and in watching that and pointing out the -places which they passed, Mrs. Banker forgot the furs and -the coarse straw hat whose strings of black had undeniably -been dyed. Never in her life had Helen enjoyed a ride as -she did that pleasant winter day, when her kind friend -took her wherever she wished to go, showing her Broadway -in its glory from Union Square to Wall Street, where -they encountered Mark in the bustling crowd. He saw -them, and beckoned to them, while Helen’s face grew red, -as, lifting his hat to her, he came up to the carriage, and -at his mother’s suggestion took a seat just opposite, asking -where they had been, and jocosely laughing at his mother’s -taste in selecting such localities as the Five Points, the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>Tombs and Barnum’s Museum, when there were so many -finer places to be seen.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Helen felt the hot blood pricking the roots of her hair -for the Five Points, the Tombs and Barnum’s Museum -had been her choice as the points of which she had heard -the most. So when Mark continued:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You shall ride with me, Miss Lennox, and I will -show you something worth your seeing,” she frankly answered:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Your mother is not in fault, Mr. Ray. She asked -me where I wished to go, and I mentioned these places; -so please attribute it wholly to my country breeding, and -not to your mother’s lack of taste.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was something in the frank speech which won -Mrs. Banker’s heart, while she felt an increased respect -for the young girl, who, she saw, was keenly sensitive, -even with all her strength of character.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You were right to commence as you have,” she said, -“for now you have a still greater treat in store, and Mark -shall drive you to the Park some day. I know you will -like that.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Helen could like anything with that friendly voice to -reassure her, and leaning back she was thinking how pleasant -it was to be in New York, how different from what -she had expected, when a bow from Mark made her look -up in time to see that they were meeting a carriage, in -which sat Wilford, with two gayly dressed ladies, both of -whom gave her a supercilious stare as they passed by, -while the younger of the two half turned her head, as if -for a more prolonged gaze.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mrs. Grandon and Juno Cameron,” Mrs. Banker said, -making some further remark to her son, while Helen felt -that the brightness of the day had changed, for she could -not be unconscious of the look with which she had been -regarded by these two fashionable ladies, and again her -<em>furs</em> came up before her, bringing a felling of which she -was ashamed, especially as she had fancied herself above -all weakness of the kind.</p> - -<p class='c011'>That night at the dinner, from which Mrs. Cameron -was absent, Wilford was unusually gracious, asking “if -<span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>she had enjoyed her ride, and if she did not find Mrs. -Banker a very pleasant acquaintance.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford felt a little uncomfortable at having suffered -a stranger to do for Katy’s sister what should have been -done by himself. Katy had asked him to drive with Helen, -but he had found it very convenient to forget it, and take -a seat instead with Juno and Mrs. Grandon, the latter -of whom complimented “Miss Lennox’s fine intellectual -face,” after they had passed, and complimented it the more -as she saw how it vexed Juno, who could see nothing “in -those bold eyes and that masculine forehead,” just because -their <i><span lang="fr">vis-à-vis</span></i> chanced to be Mark Ray. Juno was not -pleased with Helen’s first appearance in the street, but -nevertheless she called upon her next day, with Sybil Grandon -and her sister Bell. To this she was urged by Sybil, -who, having a somewhat larger experience of human -nature, foresaw that Helen would be popular just because -Mrs. Banker had taken her up, and who, besides, had conceived -a capricious fancy to patronize Miss Lennox. But -in this she was foiled, for Helen was not to <em>be</em> patronized, -and she received her visitors with that calm, assured manner -so much a part of herself.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Diamond cut diamond,” Bell thought, as she saw how -frigidly polite both Juno and Helen were, each recognizing -in the other something antagonistic, which could not harmonize.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Had Juno never cared for Dr. Grant, or suspected Helen -of standing between herself and him, and had Mark Ray -never stopped at Silverton, or been seen on Broadway with -her, she might have judged her differently, for there was -something attractive in Helen’s face and appearance as -she sat talking to her guests, with as much quiet dignity -as if she had never mended Uncle Ephraim’s socks or made -a pound of butter among the huckleberry hills. Bell was -delighted, detecting at once traces of the rare mind which -Helen Lennox possessed, and wondering to find it so.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I hope we shall see each other often,” she said, at -parting. “I do not go out a great deal myself—that is, -not so much as Juno—but I shall be always glad to welcome -you to my <em>den</em>. You may find something there to -interest you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>This was Bell’s leave-taking, while Sybil’s was, if possible, -more friendly, for she took a perverse kind of pleasure -in annoying Juno, who wondered “what she or Bell -could see to like in that awkward country girl, who she -knew had on one of Katy’s cast-off collars, and whose wardrobe -was the most ordinary she ever saw; <em>fitch furs</em>, think -of that!” and Juno gave a little pull at the fastenings of -her rich ermine collar, showing so well over her velvet -basquine.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Fitch furs or not, they rode with Mark Ray on Broadway,” -Bell retorted, with a wicked look in her eye, which -roused Juno to a still higher pitch of anger, so that by -the time the carriage stopped at No.——, the young lady -was in a most unamiable frame of mind as regarded both -Helen Lennox and the offending Mark.</p> - -<p class='c011'>That evening there was at Mrs. Reynolds’s a little company -of thirty or more, and as Mark was present, Juno -seized the opportunity of ascertaining, if possible, his -real opinion of Helen Lennox, joking him first about his -having taken her to ride so soon, and insinuating that he -must have a <em>penchant</em> for every new and pretty face.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Then you think her pretty? You have called on -her?” Mark replied, his manner evincing so much pleasure -that Juno bit her lip to keep down her wrath, and flashing -upon him her scornful eyes, replied: “Yes, Sybil -and Bell insisted that I should. Of myself I would -never have done it, for I have now more acquaintances -than I can attend to, and do not care to increase the list. -Besides that, I do not imagine that Miss Lennox can in -any way add to my happiness, brought up as she has been -among the woods and hills, you know.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, I have been there—to her home, I mean,” Mark -rejoined, and Juno continued:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Only for a moment, though. You should have stayed, -like Will, to appreciate it fully. I wish you could hear -him describe the feather beds on which he slept—that is, -describe them before he decided to take Katy; for after -that he was chary of his remarks, and the feathers by -some marvelous process were changed into hair, for what -he knew or cared.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mark hesitated a moment, and then said, quietly:</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>“I have stayed there all night, and have tested that -feather bed, but found nothing disparaging to Helen, who -was as much a lady in the farm-house as here in the city.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a look of withering scorn on Juno’s face as -she replied,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Pray, how long since you took to visiting Silverton -so frequently—becoming so familiar as to spend the -night?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was no mistaking the jealousy which betrayed -itself in every tone of Juno’s voice as she stood before -Mark, a fit picture of the enraged goddess whose name -she bore. Soon recollecting herself, however, she changed -her mode of attack, and said, laughingly,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Seriously, though, this Miss Lennox seems a very -nice girl, and is admirably fitted, I think, for the position -she is to fill—that of a <em>country physician’s wife</em>,” and in -the black eyes there was a wicked sparkle as Juno saw -that her meaning was readily understood, Mark looking -quickly at her, and asking if she referred to Dr. Grant.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Certainly; I imagine that was settled as long ago as -we met him in Paris. Once I thought it might have -been our Katy, but was mistaken. I think the doctor -and Miss Lennox well adapted to each other.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was for a moment a dull, heavy pain at Mark’s -heart, caused by that little item of information which -made him so uncomfortable. On the whole he did not -doubt it, for everything he could recall of Morris had a -tendency to strengthen the belief. Nothing could be more -probable, thrown together as they had been, without other -congenial society, and nothing could be more suitable.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“They <em>are</em> well matched,” Mark thought, as he walked -listlessly through Mrs. Reynolds’s parlors, seeing only -one face, and <em>that</em> the face of Helen Lennox, with the lily -in her hair, just as it looked when she tied the apron -about his neck and laughed at his appearance.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Helen was not the ideal which in his boyhood Mark -had cherished of the one who was to be his wife, for that -was of a woman more like Juno, with whom he had always -been on the best of terms, giving her some reason -for believing herself the favored one; but ideals change -as years go on, and Helen Lennox had more attractions -<span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>for him now than the most dashing belle of his acquaintance.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I do not believe I am in love with her,” he said to -himself when, after his return from Mrs. Reynolds’s he -sat for a long time before the fire in his dressing-room, -cogitating upon what he had heard, and wondering why -it should affect him so much. “Of course I am not,” he -continued, feeling the necessity of reiterating the assertion -by way of making himself believe it. “She is not at all -what I used to imagine the future Mrs. Mark Ray to be. -Half my friends would say she had no style, no beauty, -and perhaps she has not. Certainly she does not look -just like the ladies at Mrs. Reynolds’s to-night, but give -her the same advantages and she would surpass them all.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And then Mark Ray went off into a reverie, in which -he saw Helen Lennox his wife, and with the aids by which -he would surround her, rapidly developing into as splendid -a woman as little Katy Cameron, who did not need to be -developed, but took all hearts at once by that natural, -witching grace so much a part of herself. It was a very -pleasant picture which Mark painted upon the mental -canvas; but there came a great blur blotting out its brightness -as he remembered Dr. Grant.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But it shall not interfere with my being just as kind -to her as before. She will need some attendant here, and -Wilford will be glad to shove her off his hands. He is -so infernal proud,” Mark said, and taking a fresh cigar -he finished his reverie with the magnanimous resolve that -were Helen a hundred times engaged she should be his -especial care during her sojourn in New York.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXII.<br> <span class='large'>HELEN IN SOCIETY.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>It was three days before Christmas, and Katy was talking -confidentially to Mrs. Banker, whom she had asked to -see the next time she called.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I want so much to surprise her,” she said, speaking in -a whisper, “and you have been so kind to us both that -I thought it might not trouble you very much if I asked -you to make the selection for me, and see to the engraving. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>Wilford gave me fifty dollars, all I needed, as I had -fifty more of my own, and now that I have a baby, I am -sure I shall never again care to go out.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” Mrs. Banker said, thoughtfully, as she rolled up -the bills, “you wish me to get as heavy bracelets as I can -find—for the hundred dollars.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” Katy replied, “I think that will please her, -don’t you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mrs. Banker did not reply at once, for she felt certain -that the hundred dollars could be spent in a manner more -satisfactory to Helen. Still she hardly liked to interfere, -until Katy, observing her hesitancy, asked again if she did -not think Helen would be pleased.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, pleased with anything you choose to give her, -but—excuse me, dear Mrs. Cameron, if I speak as openly -as if I were the mother of you both. Bracelets are suitable -for you who have everything else, but is there not something -your sister needs more? Now, allowing me to suggest, -I should say, buy her some <em>furs</em>, and let the bracelets -go. In Silverton her furs were well enough, but here, as -the sister of Mrs. Wilford Cameron, she is deserving of -better.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy understood Mrs. Banker at once, her cheeks reddening -as there flashed upon her the reason <em>why</em> Wilford -had never yet been in the street with Helen, notwithstanding -that she had more than once requested it.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You are right,” she said. “It was thoughtless in me -not to think of this myself. Helen shall have the furs, -and whatever else is necessary. I am so glad you reminded -me of it. You are as kind as my own mother,” and Katy -kissed her friend fondly as she bade her good-bye, charging -her a dozen times not to let Helen know the surprise in -store for her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was little need of this caution, for Mrs. Banker -understood human nature too well to divulge a matter -which might wound one as sensitive as Helen. Between -the latter and herself there was a strong bond of friendship, -and to the kind patronage of this lady Helen owed -most of the attentions she had as yet received from her -sister’s friends, while Mark Ray did much toward lifting -her to the place she held in spite of the common country -<span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>dress, which Juno unsparingly criticised, and which, in -fact, kept Wilford from taking her out as his wife so -often asked him to do. And Helen, too, keenly felt the -difference between herself and those with whom she came -in contact, crying over it more than once, but never dreaming -of the surprise in store for her, when on Christmas -morning she went as usual to Katy’s room, finding her -alone, her face all aglow with excitement, and her bed -a perfect show-case of dry goods, which she bade Helen examine -and say how she liked them.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford was no niggard with his money, and when Katy -had asked for more it had been given unsparingly, even -though he knew the purpose to which it was to be applied.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, Katy, Katy, why did you do it?” Helen cried, -her tears falling like rain through the fingers she clasped -over her eyes.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You are not angry?” Katy said, in some dismay, as -Helen continued to sob without looking at the handsome -furs, the stylish hat, the pretty cloak, and rich patterns -of blue and black silk, which Mrs. Banker had selected.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, oh no!” Helen replied. “I know it was all -meant well; but there is something in me which rebels -against taking this from Wilford, and placing myself under -so great obligation to him.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It was a pleasure for him to do it,” Katy said, trying -to reassure her sister, until she grew calm enough to examine -and admire the Christmas gifts upon which no expense -had been spared. Much as we may ignore dress, -and sinful as is an inordinate love for it, there is yet -about it an influence for good, when the heart of the -wearer is right, holding it subservient to all higher, holier -affections. At least Helen Lennox found it so, when clad -in her new garments, she drove with Mrs. Banker, or -returned Sybil Grandon’s call, feeling that there was about -her nothing for which Katy need to blush, or even Wilford, -who was not afraid to be seen with her now, and -Helen, while knowing the reason of the change, did not -feel like quarreling with him for it, but accepted with a -good-natured grace all that made her life in New York -so happy. With Bell Cameron she was on the best of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>terms; while Sybil Grandon, always going with the tide, -professed for her an admiration, which, whether fancied -or real, did much toward making her popular; and when, -as the mistress of her brother’s house, she issued cards -of invitation for a large party, she took especial pains to -insist upon Helen’s attending, even if Katy was not able. -But from this Helen shrank. She could not meet so many -strangers alone, she said, and so the matter was dropped, -until Mrs. Banker offered to chaperone her, when Helen -began to waver, changing her mind at last and promising -to go.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Never since the days of <em>her</em> first party had Katy been -so wild with excitement as she was in helping to dress -Helen, who scarcely knew herself when, before the mirror, -with the blaze of the chandelier falling upon her, she saw -the picture of a young girl arrayed in rich pink silk, with -an overskirt of lace, and the light pretty cloak, just thrown -upon her uncovered neck, where Katy’s pearls were shining.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What would they say at home if they could only see -you?” Katy exclaimed, throwing back the handsome cloak -so as to show more of the well-shaped neck, gleaming so -white beneath it.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Aunt Betsy would say I had forgotten half my dress,” -Helen replied, blushing as she glanced at the arms, which -never since her childhood had been thus exposed to view, -except at such times as her household duties had required -it.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Even this exception would not apply to the low neck, -at which Helen had long demurred, yielding finally to -Katy’s entreaties, but often wondering what Mark Ray -would think, and if he would not be shocked. Mark Ray -had been strangely blended with all Helen’s thoughts as she -submitted herself to Esther’s practiced hands, and when -the hair-dresser, summoned to her aid, asked what flowers -she would wear, it was a thought of him which led her -to select a single water lily, which looked as natural as -if its bed had really been the bosom of Fairy Pond.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Nothing else? Surely mademoiselle will have these -few green leaves?” Celine had said, but Helen would -have nothing save the lily, which was twined tastefully -<span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span>amid the heavy braids of the brown hair, whose length -and luxuriance had thrown the hair-dresser into ecstasies -of delight, and made Esther lament that in these days of -false tresses no one would give Miss Lennox credit for what -was wholly her own.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You will be the belle of the evening,” Katy said as -she kissed her sister good night and then ran back to her -baby, while Wilford, yielding to her importunities that -he should not remain with her, followed Mrs. Banker’s -carriage in his own private conveyance, and was soon set -down at Sybil Grandon’s door.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Meanwhile, at the elder Cameron’s there had been a -discussion touching the propriety of their taking Helen -under their protection, instead of leaving her for Mrs. -Banker to chaperone, Bell insisting that it ought to be done, -while the father swore roundly at Juno, who would not -“be bothered with that country girl.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You would rather leave her wholly to Mark Ray and -his mother, I suppose,” Bell said, adding, as she saw the -flush on Juno’s face, “You know you are dying of jealousy, -and nothing annoys you so much as to hear people talk -of Mark’s attentions to <em>Miss Lennox</em>.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do they talk?” Mrs. Cameron asked quickly, while in -her gray eyes there gleamed a light far more dangerous -and threatening to Helen than Juno’s open scorn.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mrs. Cameron had long intended Mark Ray for her -daughter, and accustomed to have everything bend to her -wishes, she had come to consider the matter as certain, -even though he had never proposed in words. He had -done everything else, she thought, attending Juno constantly, -and frequenting their house so much that it was a -standing joke for his friends to seek him there when he -was not at home or at his office. Latterly, however, there -had been a change, and the ambitious mother could not -deny that since Helen’s arrival in New York Mark had -visited them less frequently and stayed a shorter time, while -she had more than once heard of him at her son’s in company -with Helen. Very rapidly a train of thought passed -through her mind; but it did not manifest itself upon -her face, which was composed and quiet as she decided -with Juno that Helen should not trouble them. With -<span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>the utmost care Juno arrayed herself for the party, thinking -with a great deal of complacency how impossible it was -for Helen Lennox to compete with her in point of dress.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She is such a prude, I dare say she will go in that -blue silk, with the long sleeves and high neck, looking -like a Dutch doll,” she said to Bell, as she shook back -the folds of her rich crimson, and turned her head to see -the effect of her wide braids of hair.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am not certain that a high dress is worse than -bones,” Bell retorted, playfully touching Juno’s neck, -which, though white and gracefully formed, was shockingly -guiltless of flesh.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was an angry reply, and then, wrapping her -cloak about her, Juno went out to their carriage, and was -ere long one of the gay crowd thronging Sybil Grandon’s -parlors. Helen had not yet arrived, and Juno was hoping -she would not come, when there was a stir at the -door and Mrs. Banker appeared, and with her Helen -Lennox, but so transformed that Juno hardly knew her, -looking twice ere sure that the beautiful young lady, so -wholly self-possessed, was the country girl she affected -to despise.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Who is she?” was asked by many, who at once acknowledged -her claims to their attention, and as soon as -practicable sought her acquaintance, so that Helen suddenly -found herself the centre of a little court of which -she was the queen and Mark her sworn knight.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Presuming upon his mother’s chaperonage, he claimed -the right of attending her, and Juno’s glory waned as -effectually as it had done when Katy was the leading star -to which New York paid homage.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Juno had been annoyed then, but now fierce jealousy -took possession of her heart as she watched the girl -whom all seemed to admire, even Wilford feeling a thrill -of pride that the possession of so attractive a sister-in-law -reflected credit upon himself.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He was not ashamed of her now, nor did he retain a -single thought of the farm-house or Uncle Ephraim as -he made his way to her side, standing protectingly at her -left, just as Mark was standing at her right, and at last -asking her to dance.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>With a heightened color Helen declined, saying frankly,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have never learned.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You miss a great deal,” Wilford rejoined, appealing -to Mark for a confirmation of his words.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Mark did not heartily respond. He, too, had -solicited Helen as a partner when the dancing first commenced, -and her quiet refusal had disappointed him a -little, for Mark was fond of dancing, and though as a -general thing he disapproved of waltzes and polkas when -he was the looker-on, he felt that there would be something -vastly agreeable and exhilarating in clasping Helen -in his arms and whirling her about the room just as Juno -was being whirled by a young cadet, a friend of Lieutenant -Bob’s. But when he reflected that not his arm alone -would encircle her waist, or his breath touch her neck, he -was glad she did not dance, and professing a weariness -he did not feel, he declined to join the dancers on the -floor, but kept with Helen, enjoying what she enjoyed, -and putting her so perfectly at her ease that no one would -ever have dreamed of the curdy cheeses she had made, -or the pounds of butter she had churned. But Mark -thought of it as he secretly admired the neck and arms, -seen once before, on that memorable day when he assisted -Helen in the labors of the dairy. If nothing else had -done so, the lily in her hair would have brought that -morning to his mind, and once as they walked up and -down the hall he spoke of the ornament she had chosen, -and how well it became her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Pond lilies are my pets,” he said, “and I have kept -one of those I gathered when at Silverton. Do you remember -them?” and his eyes rested upon Helen with a -look which made her blush as she answered yes; but she -did not tell him of a little box at home, made of cones -and acorns, where was hidden a withered water lily, -which she could not throw away, even after its beauty -and fragrance had departed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Had she told him this, it might have put to flight the -doubts troubling Mark so much, and making him wonder -if Dr. Grant had really a claim upon the girl stealing -his heart so fast.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I mean to sound her,” he thought, and as Lieutenant -<span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>Bob passed by, making some jocose remark about his -offending all the fair ones by the course he was taking, -Mark said to Helen, who suggested returning to the parlor,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“As you like, though it cannot matter; a person known -to be engaged is above Bob Reynolds’s jokes.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Quiet as thought the blood stained Helen’s face and -neck, for Mark had made a most egregious blunder giving -her the impression that <em>he</em> was the engaged one referred -to, not herself, and for a moment she forgot the gay -scene around her in the sharpness of the pang with which -she recognized all that Mark Ray was to her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It was kind in him to warn me. I wish it had been -sooner,” she thought, and then with a bitter feeling of -shame she wondered how much he had guessed of her -real feelings, and who the betrothed one was. “Not -Juno Cameron,” she hoped, as after a few moments Mrs. -Cameron came up and, adroitly detaching Mark from -her side, took his place while he sauntered to a -group of ladies and was ere long dancing merrily with -Juno.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“They are a well-matched pair,” Mrs. Cameron said, -assuming a very confidential manner towards Helen, who -assented to the remark, while the lady continued, “There -is but one thing wrong about Mark Ray. He is a most -unscrupulous flirt, pleased with every new face, and this -of course annoys <em>Juno</em>.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Are they engaged?” came involuntarily from Helen’s -lips, while Mrs. Cameron’s foot beat the carpet with a -very becoming hesitancy, as she replied, “That was settled -in our family a long time ago. Wilford and Mark -have always been like brothers.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mrs. Cameron could not quite bring herself to a deliberate -falsehood, which, if detected, would reflect upon -her character as a lady, but she could mislead Helen, -and she continued, “It is not like us to bruit our affairs -abroad, and were my daughters ten times engaged the -world would be none the wiser. I doubt if even Katy -suspects what I have admitted; but knowing how fascinating -Mark can be, and that just at present he seems -to be pleased with you, I have acted as I should wish a -friend to act toward my own child. I have warned you -<span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>in time. Were it not that you are one of <em>our family</em>, I -might not have interfered, and I trust you not to repeat -even to Katy what I have said.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Helen nodded assent, while in her heart was a wild -tumult of feelings—flattered pride, disappointment, indignation, -and mortification all struggling for the mastery—mortification -to feel that she who had quietly ignored -such a passion as love when connected with herself, had, -nevertheless, been pleased with the attentions of one who -was only amusing himself with her, as a child amuses -itself with some new toy soon to be thrown aside—indignation -at him for vexing Juno at her expense—disappointment -that he should care for such as Juno, and -flattered pride that Mrs. Cameron should include her in -“our family.” Helen had as few weak points as most -young ladies, but she was not free from them all, and the -fact that Mrs. Cameron had taken her into a confidence -which even Katy did not share, was soothing to her ruffled -spirits, particularly as after that confidence, Mrs. Cameron -was excessively gracious to her, introducing her to many -whom she did not know before, and paying her numberless -little attentions, which made Juno stare, while the clear-seeing -Bell arched her eyebrows, and wondered for what -Helen was to be made a <em>cat’s paw</em> by her clever mother. -Whatever it was it did not appear, save as it showed itself -in Helen’s slightly changed demeanor when Mark again -sought her society, and tried to bring back to her face the -look he had left there. But something had come between -them, and the young man racked his brain to find the -cause of this sudden indifference in one who had been -pleased with him only a short half hour before.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s that confounded waltzing which disgusted her,” -he said, “and no wonder, for if ever a man looks like an -idiot, it is when he is kicking up his heels to the sound -of a fiddle, and whirling some woman whose skirts sweep -everything within the circle of a rod, and whose face -wears that die-away expression I have so often noticed. -I’ve half a mind to swear I’ll never dance again.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Mark was too fond of dancing to quit it at once, -and finding Helen still indifferent, he yielded to circumstances, -and the last she saw of him, as at a comparative -<span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>early hour she left the gay scene, he was dancing again -with Juno. It was a heavy blow to Helen, for she had -become greatly interested in Mark Ray, whose attentions -had made her stay in New York so pleasant. But -these were over now;—at least the excitement they brought -was over, and Helen, as she sat in her dressing-room at -home, and thought of the future as well as the past, felt -stealing over her a sense of desolation and loneliness such -as she had experienced but once before, and that on the -night when leaning from her window at the farm-house -where Mark Ray was stopping she had shuddered and -shrank from living all her days among the rugged hills -of Silverton. New York had opened an entirely new -world to her, showing her much that was vain and -frivolous, with much too that was desirable and good; and -if there had crept into her heart the thought that a life -with such people as Mrs. Banker and those who frequented -her house would be preferable to a life in Silverton, where -only Morris understood her, it was but the natural result -of daily intercourse with one who had studied to please -and interest as Mark Ray had done. But Helen had too -much good sense and strength of will, long to indulge in -what she would have called “love-sick regrets” in others, -and she began to devise the best course for her to adopt -hereafter, concluding finally to treat him much as she -had done, lest he should suspect how deeply she had been -wounded. Now that she knew of his engagement, it would -be an easy matter so to demean herself as neither to annoy -Juno nor vex him. Thoroughly now she understood why -Juno Cameron had seemed to dislike her so much.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It is natural,” she said, “and yet I honestly believe -I like her better for knowing what I do. There must be -some good beneath that proud exterior, or Mark would -never seek her.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Still, look at it from any point she chose, it seemed a -strange, unsuitable match, and Helen’s heart ached sadly -as she finally retired to rest, thinking what <em>might have -been</em> had Juno Cameron found some other lover more -like herself than Mark could ever be.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXIII.<br> <span class='large'>BABY’S NAME.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>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.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“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,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“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.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>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.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Many discussions had been held at the elder Cameron’s -concerning its name, Mrs. Cameron deciding finally that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>it should bear her own, <em>Margaret Augusta</em>, while Juno advocated -that of <em>Rose Marie</em>, 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 “<em>cussed nonsense</em>.” -“Better call it <em>Jemima</em>, a grand sight, than -saddle it with such a silly name as Rose Mah-<em>ree</em>, with a -roll to the <em>r</em>,” and with another oath the disgusted old man -departed, while Bell suggested that <em>Katy</em> might wish to -have a voice in naming her own child.</p> - -<p class='c011'>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.</p> - -<p class='c011'>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.</p> - -<p class='c011'>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 <em>Genevra</em>, and she had at once seized upon it as the -most delightful cognomen a person could well possess. -“<em>Genevra Cameron!</em>” 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 -<span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span>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, -“<em>Genevra Cameron!</em>” 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.</p> - -<p class='c011'>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 <em>Margaret Augusta</em>, 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.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>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.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Better,” Juno said; and now she touched Bell’s arm, -to have her see “how father was petting Katy.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>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?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Let your mother speak first,” Katy said, and thus -appealed to, Mrs. Cameron came up to Wilford and expressed -her preference for <em>Margaret</em>, as being a good -name, an aristocratic name, and her own.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, but not half so pretty and striking as Rose -Marie,” Juno chimed in.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Rose Mary! Thunder!” father Cameron exclaimed. -“Call her a <em>marygold</em>, or a <em>sunflower</em>, just as much. Don’t -<span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>go to being fools by giving a child a heathenish name. -Give us your opinion, Katy.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“<em>I</em> 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—<span class='sc'>Genevra</span>, 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.</p> - -<p class='c011'>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.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What put that fanciful name into your head?” Mrs. -Cameron asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>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 did. She could not, perhaps, have resisted him, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>but his manner was not very decided, and so she quietly -persisted, “Genevra or nothing,” until the others gave up -the contest, hoping she would feel differently after a few -days’ reflection. But Katy knew she shouldn’t, and Helen -could not overcome the exultation with which she saw her -little sister put the Camerons to rout and remain master -of the field.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“After all it does not matter,” Mrs. Cameron said to -her daughters, when, after Mrs. Wilford was gone, she -sat talking of Katy’s queer fancy and her obstinacy in -adhering to it. “It does not matter, and on the whole I -had as soon the christening would be postponed until -the child is more presentable than now. It will be prettier -by and by, and the dress will become it better. We -can afford to wait.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This heartless view of the case was readily adopted -by Juno, while Bell professed to be terribly shocked at -hearing them talk thus of a baptism, as if it were a -mere show and nothing more, wondering if the Saviour -thought of dress or personal appearance when the Hebrew -mothers brought their children to him. But little did -Mrs. Cameron or Juno care for the baptism except -as a display, and as both would be much prouder of a -fine-looking child, they were well content to wait until -such time as Katy should incline more favorably to their -Margaret or Rose Marie. To Helen is seemed highly -probable that after a private interview with Wilford Katy -would change her mind, and she felt a wickedly agreeable -degree of disappointment when, on the day following -the dinner party, she found her sister even more resolved -than ever upon having her own way. Like the Camerons, -she did not feel the necessity of haste,—time enough -by and by, when she would not have so much opposition -to encounter, she said; and as Wilford did not care, it -was finally arranged that they would wait awhile ere -they gave a cognomen to the little nameless child, only -known as Baby Cameron.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXIV.<br> <span class='large'>TROUBLE IN THE HOUSEHOLD.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>As soon as it was understood that Mrs. Wilford Cameron -was able to go out, there were scores of pressing invitations -from the gay world which had missed her so much, but -Katy declined them all on the plea that baby needed her -care. She was happier at home, and as a mother it was -her place to stay there. At first Wilford listened quietly, -but when he found it was her fixed determination to -abjure society entirely, he interfered in his cool, decisive -way, which always carried its point.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It was foolish to take that stand,” he said. “Other -mothers went and why should not she? She had already -stayed in too much. She was injuring herself, and”—what -was infinitely worse to Wilford—“she was losing her -good looks.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>As proof of this he led her to the glass, showing her -the pale, thin face and unnaturally large eyes, so distasteful -to him. Wilford Cameron was very proud of his -handsome house,—proud to know that everything there -was in keeping with his position and wealth, but when -Katy was immured in the nursery, the bright picture was -obscured, for it needed her presence to make it perfect, -and he began to grow dissatisfied with his surroundings, -while abroad he missed her quite as much, finding the -opera, the party or the reception, insipid where she was -not, and feeling fully conscious that Wilford Cameron, -without a wife, and that wife Katy, was not a man of half -the consequence he had thought himself to be. Even -Sybil Grandon did not think it worth her while to court -his attention, if Katy were not present, for unless some -one saw and felt her triumph it ceased directly to be one. -On the whole Wilford was not well pleased with society as -he found it this winter, and knowing where the trouble -lay, he resolved that Katy should no longer remain at -home, growing pale and faded and losing her good looks. -Wilford would not have confessed it, and perhaps was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>not himself aware of the fact, that Katy’s beauty was -quite as dear to him as Katy herself. If she lost it her -value was decreased accordingly, and so, as a prudent husband, -it behooved him to see that what was so very precious -was not unnecessarily thrown away. It did not take long -for Katy to understand that her days of quiet were at -an end,—that neither crib nor cradle could avail her longer. -Mrs. Kirby, selected from a host of applicants, was wholly -competent for Baby Cameron, and Katy must throw aside -the mother, which sat so prettily upon her, and become -again the belle. It was a sad trial, but Katy knew that -submission was the only alternative, and so when Mrs. -Banker’s invitation came, she accepted it at once, but -there was a sad look upon her face as she kissed her baby -for the twentieth time ere going to her dressing maid.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Never until this night had Helen realized how beautiful -Katy was when in full evening dress, and her exclamations -of delight brought a soft flush to Katy’s cheek, -while she felt a thrill of the olden vanity as she saw herself -once more arrayed in all her costly apparel. Helen -did not wonder at Wilford’s desire to have Katy with -him, and very proudly she watched her young sister as -Esther twined the flowers in her hair and then brought -out the ermine cloak she was to wear as a protection -against the cold.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford was standing by her, making a few suggestions, -and expressing his approbation in a way which -reminded Helen of that night before the marriage, when -Katy’s dress had been condemned, and of that sadder, bitterer -time, when she had poured her tears like rain into -that trunk returned. All she had thought of Wilford -then was now more than confirmed, but he was kind to -her and very proud of Katy, so she forced back her feelings -of disquiet, which, however, were roused again when -she saw the dark look on his face, as Katy, at the very -last, ran to the nursery to kiss baby good-bye, succeeding -this time in waking it, as was proven by the cry which -made Wilford scowl angrily and brought to his lips a -word of rebuke for Katy’s childishness.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The party was not so large as that at Sybil Grandon’s, -but it was more select, and Helen enjoyed it better, meeting -<span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>people who readily appreciated the peculiarities of -her mind, and who would have made her forget all else -around her if she had not been a guest at Mark Ray’s -house. It was the first time she had met him away from -home since the night at Mrs. Grandon’s, and as if forgetful -of her reserve, he paid her numberless attentions, -which, coming from the master of the house, were the -more to be valued.</p> - -<p class='c011'>With a quiet dignity Helen received them all, the -thought once creeping into her heart that <em>she</em> was preferred, -notwithstanding that engagement. But she soon -repudiated this idea as unworthy of her. She could not -be wholly happy with one who, to win her hand, had -trampled upon the affections of another, even if that other -were Juno Cameron.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And so she kept out of his way as much as possible, -watching her sister admiringly as she moved about with -an easy, assured grace, or floated like a snowflake through -the dance in which Wilford persuaded her to join, looking -after her with a proud, all-absorbing feeling, which -left no room for Sybil Grandon’s coquettish advances.</p> - -<p class='c011'>As if the reappearance of Katy had awakened all that -was weak and silly in Sybil’s nature, she again put forth -her powers of attraction, but met only with defeat. Katy, -and even Helen, was preferred before her,—both belles -of a different type; but both winning golden laurels from -those who hardly knew which to admire more—Katy, with -her pure, delicate beauty and charming simplicity, or -Helen, with her attractive face, and sober, quiet manner. -But Katy grew tired early. She could not endure what -she once did; and when she came to Wilford with a weary -look upon her face, and asked him to go home, he did -not refuse, though Mark, who was near, protested against -their leaving so soon.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Surely Miss Lennox might remain; the carriage could -be sent back for her; and he had hardly seen her at all.” -But Miss Lennox chose to go; and after her white cloak -and hood had passed through the door into the street, -there was nothing attractive for Mark in his crowded parlors, -and he was glad when the last guest had departed, -and he was left alone with his mother.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span>Operas, parties, receptions, dinners, matinees, morning -calls, drives, visits, and shopping; how fast one crowded -upon the other, leaving scarcely an hour of leisure to the -devotee of fashion who attended to them all. How astonished -Helen was to find what <em>high life</em> in New York implied, -and she ceased to wonder that so many of the young -girls grew haggard and old before their time, or that the -dowagers grew selfish and hard and scheming. She should -die outright, she thought, and she pitied poor little Katy, -who, having once returned to the world, seemed destined -to remain there, in spite of her entreaties and the excuses -she made for declining the invitations which poured in -so fast.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Baby was not well—Baby needed her,” was the plea -with which she met Wilford’s arguments, until the mention -of his child was sure to bring a scowl upon his face, -and it became a question in Helen’s mind, whether he -would not be happier if Baby had never come between -him and his ambition.</p> - -<p class='c011'>To hear Katy’s charms extolled, and know that he was -envied the possession of so rare a gem, feeling all the -while sure of her faith, was Wilford’s great delight, and -it is not strange that, without any very strong fatherly -feeling or principle of right in that respect, he should -be irritated by the little life so constantly interfering -with his pleasure and so surely undermining Katy’s health. -For Katy did not improve, as Wilford hoped she might; -and with his two hands he could span her slender waist, -while the beautiful neck and shoulders were no longer -worn uncovered, for Katy would not display her <em>bones</em>, -whatever the fashion might be. In this dilemma Wilford -sought his mother, and the result of that consultation -brought a more satisfied look to his face than it had -worn for many a day.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Strange he had never thought of it, when it was what -so many people did,” he said to himself, as he hurried -home. “It was the very best thing both for Katy and -the child, and would obviate every difficulty.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Next morning, as she sometimes did when more than -usually fatigued, Katy breakfasted in bed; while Wilford’s -face, as he sat opposite Helen at the table, had on it a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>look of quiet determination, such as she had rarely seen -there before. In a measure, accustomed to his moods, -she felt that something was wrong, and never dreaming -that he intended honoring her with his confidence, she -was wishing he would finish his coffee and leave, when, -motioning the servant from the room, he said abruptly, -and in a tone which roused Helen’s antagonistic powers -at once, it was so cool, so decided, “I believe you have -more influence over your sister than I have; at least, she -has latterly shown a willfulness in disregarding me and -a willingness to listen to you, which confirms me in this -conclusion——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well,” and Helen twisted her napkin ring nervously, -waiting for him to say more; but her manner disconcerted -him, making him a little uncertain as to what might -be hidden behind that rigid face, and a little doubtful as -to the expression it would put on when he had said all -he meant to say.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He did not expect it to wear a look as frightened and -hopeless as Katy’s did when he last saw it upon the pillow, -for he knew how different the two sisters were, and -much as he had affected to despise Helen Lennox, he -was afraid of her now. It had never occurred to him -before that he was somewhat uncomfortable in her presence—that -her searching brown eyes often held him in -check; but it came to him now, that his wife’s sister had -a <em>will</em> almost as firm as his own, and she was sure to -take Katy’s part. He saw it in her face, even though -she had no idea of what he meant to say.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He must explain sometime, and so at last he continued. -“You must have seen how opposed Katy is to complying -with my wishes, setting them at naught, when she knows -how much pleasure she would give me by yielding as she -used to do.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t know what you mean,” Helen replied, “unless -it is her aversion to going out, as that, I think, is the -only point where her obedience has not been absolute.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford did not like the words <em>obedience</em> and <em>absolute</em>; -that is, he did not like the <em>sound</em>. Their definition suited -him, but Helen’s enunciation was at fault, and he answered -quickly, “I do not require absolute obedience from -<span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span>Katy. I never did; but in this matter to which you refer, -I think she might consult my wishes as well as her own. -There is no reason for her secluding herself in the nursery -as she does. Do you think there is?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He put the question direct, and Helen answered it.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I do not believe Katy means to displease you, but -she has conceived a strong aversion for festive scenes, -and besides, baby is not healthy, you know, and like all -young mothers, she may be over-anxious, while I fancy -she has not the fullest confidence in the nurse, and this -may account for her unwillingness to leave the child -with her.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Kirby was all that was desirable,” Wilford replied. -“His mother had taken her from a genteel, respectable -house in Bond street, and he paid her an enormous price, -consequently she must be right;” and then came the story -that his mother had decided that neither Katy nor baby -would improve so long as they remained together; that -for both a separation was desirable; that she had recommended -sending the child into the country, where it would -be better cared for than it could be at home, with Katy -constantly undoing all Mrs. Kirby had done, waking it -from sleep whenever the fancy took her, and in short, -treating it much as she probably did her doll when she -was a little girl. With the child away, there would be -nothing to prevent Katy’s going out again and getting -back her good looks, which were somewhat impaired.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, she looks older than you do,” Wilford said, -thinking thus to conciliate Helen, who quietly replied,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“There is not two years difference between us, and I -have always been well, and kept regular hours until I -came here.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford’s compliment had failed, and more annoyed than -before, he asked, not what Helen thought of the arrangement, -but if she would influence Katy to act and think -rationally upon it; “at least, you will not make it worse,” -he said, and this time there was something deferential and -pleading in his manner.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Helen knew the matter was fixed,—that neither Katy’s -tears nor entreaties would avail to revoke the decision, -and so, though her whole soul rose in indignation against -<span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>a man who would deliberately send his nursing baby from -his roof because it was in his way, and was robbing his -bride’s cheek of its girlish bloom, she answered composedly,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I will do what I can, but I must confess it seems to -me an unnatural thing. I had supposed parents less -selfish than that.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford did not care what Helen had supposed, and -her opposition only made him more resolved. Still he -did not say so, and he tried to smile as he quitted the -table and remarked to her,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I hope to find Katy reconciled when I come home. -I think I had better not go up to her again, so tell her I -send a good-bye kiss by you. I leave her case in your -hands.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was a far more difficult case than either he or Helen -imagined, and the latter started back in alarm from the -white face which greeted her view as she entered Katy’s -room, and then with a moan hid itself in the pillow.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Wilford thought he would not come up, but he sent -a kiss by me,” Helen said, softly touching the bright, disordered -hair, all she could see of her sister.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It does not matter,” Katy gasped. “Kisses cannot -help me if they take baby away. Did he tell you?” and -she turned now partly towards Helen, who nodded affirmatively, -while Katy continued, “Had he taken a knife -and cut a cruel gash it would not have hurt me half so -badly. I could bear that, but my baby—oh, Helen, do -you think they will take her away?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was looking straight at Helen, who shivered as she -met an expression so unlike Katy, and so like to that a -hunted deer might wear if its offspring were in danger.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Say, do you think they will?” she continued, shedding -back with her thin hand the mass of tangled curls -which had fallen about her eyes.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Whom do you mean by <em>they</em>?” Helen asked, coming -near to her, and sitting down upon the bed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a resentful gleam in the blue eyes usually -so gentle, as Katy answered,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“<em>Whom</em> do I mean? <em>His folks</em>, of course! They have -been the instigators of every sorrow I have known since -<span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>I left Silverton. Oh, Helen! never, never marry anybody -who has <em>folks</em>, if you wish to be happy.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Helen could not repress a smile, though she pitied her -sister, who continued,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t mean father Cameron, nor Bell, for I believe -they love me. Father does, I know, and Bell has helped -me so often; but Mrs. Cameron and Juno, oh, Helen, you -will never know what <em>they</em> have been to me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Since Helen came to New York there had been so much -else to talk about that Katy had said comparatively little -of the Camerons. Now, however there was no holding -back on Katy’s part, and beginning with the first night -of her arrival in New York, she told what is already -known to the reader, exonerating Wilford in word, but -dealing out full justice to his mother and Juno, the former -of whom controlled him so completely.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I tried so hard to love her,” Katy said, “and if she -had given me ever so little in return I would have been -satisfied; but she never did—that is, when I hungered -for it most, missing you at home, and the loving care -which sheltered me in childhood. After the world took -me into favor she began to caress me, but I was wicked -enough to think it all came of selfishness. I know I am -hard and bad, for when I was sick, Mrs. Cameron was -really very kind, and I began to like her; but if she takes -baby away I shall surely die.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Where is baby to be sent?” Helen asked, and Katy -answered,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Up the river, to a house which Father Cameron owns, -and which is kept by a farmer’s family. I can’t trust -Kirby. I do not like her. She keeps baby asleep too long, -and acts so cross if I try to wake her, or hint that she -looks unnatural. I cannot give baby to her care, with no -one to look after her, though Wilford says I must.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy had never offered so violent opposition to any plan -as she did now to that of sending her child away.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I can’t, I can’t,” she repeated constantly, and Mrs. -Cameron’s call, made that afternoon, with a view to reconcile -the matter, only made it worse, so that Wilford, -on his return at night, felt a pang of self-reproach as he -saw the drooping figure holding his child upon its lap -<span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>and singing its lullaby in a plaintive voice, which told -how sore was its heart.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford did not mean to be either a savage or a brute. -On the contrary, he had made himself believe that he -was acting only for the good of both mother and child; -but the sight of Katy touched him, and he might have -given up the contest had not Helen, unfortunately, taken -up the cudgels in Katy’s defence, neglecting to conceal -the weapons, and so defeating her purpose. It was at the -dinner, from which Katy was absent, that she ventured -to speak, not <em>asking</em> that the plan be given up, but speaking -of it as an unnatural one, which seemed to her not -only useless, but cruel.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford did not tell her that her opinion was not desired, -but his manner implied as much, and Helen felt -the angry blood prickling through her veins, as she listened -to his reply, that it was neither unnatural nor cruel; -that many people did it, and his would not be an isolated -case.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Then, if it must be,” Helen said, “pray let it go to -Silverton, and I will be its nurse. Katy will not object -to that.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>In a very ironical tone Wilford thanked her for her -offer, which he begged leave to decline, intimating a preference -for settling his own matters according to his own -ideas. Helen knew that further argument was useless, -and wished herself at home, where there were no <em>wills</em> -like this, which, ignoring Katy’s tears and Katy’s pleading -face, would not retract one iota, or even stoop to -reason with the suffering mother, except to reiterate, “It -is only for your good, and every one with common sense -will say so.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Next morning Helen was surprised at Katy’s proposition -to drive round to Fourth street, and call on Marian.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have a strong presentiment that she can do me good,” -Katy said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Shall you tell <em>her</em>?” Helen asked, in some surprise; -and Katy replied, “Perhaps I may, I’ll see.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>An hour later, and Katy, up in Marian’s room, sat -listening intently, while Marian spoke of a letter received -a few days since from an old friend who had worked -<span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span>with her at Madam ——‘s, and to whom she had been -strongly attached, keeping up a correspondence with her -after her marriage and removal to New London, in Connecticut, -and whose little child had borne Marian’s name. -That child, born two months before Katy’s, <em>was dead</em>, -and the mother, finding her home so desolate, had written, -beseeching Marian to come to her for the remainder of -the winter.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was an eager look in Katy’s face, and her eyes -danced with the new idea which had suddenly taken possession -of her. She could <em>not</em> trust baby with Kirby up -the river, but she could trust her in New London with -Mrs. Hubbell, if Marian was there, and grasping the latter’s -arm, she exclaimed, “Is Mrs. Hubbell poor? Would -she do something for money, a great deal of money, I -mean?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>In a few moments Marian had heard Katy’s trouble, -and Katy’s wish that Mrs. Hubbell should take her child -in place of the little one dead. “Perhaps she would not -harbor the thought for a moment, but she misses her own -so much, it made me think she might take mine. Write -to her, Marian,—write to-day,—now, before I go,” Katy -continued, clasping Marian’s hand, with an expression -which, more than aught else, won Marian Hazelton’s consent -to a plan which seemed so strange.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, I will write,” she answered; “I will tell Amelia -what you desire.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But, Marian, you too must go, if baby does—I’ll trust -baby with you. Say, Marian, will you go with my darling?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was hard to refuse, with those great, wistful, pleading -eyes, looking so earnestly into hers; but Marian must -have time to consider. She had thought of going to New -London to open a shop, and if she did, she should board -with Mrs. Hubbell, and so be with the child. She would -decide when the answer came to the letter.</p> - -<p class='c011'>This was all the encouragement she would give; but it -was enough to change the whole nature of Katy’s feelings, -and her face looked bright and cheerful as she tripped -down the stairway, talking to Helen of what seemed to -both like a direct interposition of Providence, and what -<span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>she was sure would please Wilford quite as well as the -farm-house up the river.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Surely he will yield to me in this,” she said. Nor -was she wrong; for, glad of an opportunity to make some -concessions, and still in the main have his own way, Wilford -raised no objection to the plan as communicated to -him by Katy, when, at an earlier hour than usual he -came home to dinner, and with the harmony of his household -once more restored, felt himself a model husband, -as he listened to Katy’s plan of sending baby to New -London. On the whole, it might be better even than the -farm-house up the river, he thought, for it was further -away, and Katy could not be tiring herself with driving -out every few days, and keeping herself constantly uneasy -and excited. The distance between New York and New -London was the best feature of the whole; and he wondered -Katy had not thought of it as an objection. But -she had not, and but for the pain when she remembered -the coming separation, she would have been very happy -that evening, listening with Wilford and Helen to a new -opera brought out for the first time in New York.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Very differently from this was Marian’s evening passed, -and on her face there was a look such as Katy’s had -never worn, as she asked for guidance to choose the right, -to lay all self aside, and if it were her duty, to care for -the child she had never seen, but whose birth had stirred -the pulsations of her heart and made the old wound bleed -and throb with bitter anguish. And as she prayed there -crept into her face a look which told that self was sacrificed -at last, and Katy Cameron was safe with her.</p> - -<hr class='c014'> - -<p class='c011'>Mrs. Hubbell was willing—aye, more than that—was -glad to take the child, and the generous remuneration -offered would make them so comfortable in their little -cottage, she wrote to Marian, who hastened to confer by -note with Katy, adding in a postscript, “Is it still your -wish that I should go? If so, I am at your disposal.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It <em>was</em> Katy’s wish, and she replied at once, going next -to the nursery to talk with Mrs. Kirby. Dark were the -frowns and dire the displeasure of that lady when told -that, instead of going up the river, as she had hoped, she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span>was free to return to the “genteel and highly respectable -home on Bond street,” where Mrs. Cameron had found -her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Wait till the <em>Madam</em> comes, and then we’ll see,” she -thought, referring to Mrs. Cameron, and feeling delighted -when, that very day, she heard that lady’s voice in the -parlor.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Mrs. Cameron, though a little anxious with regard -to both Mrs. Hubbell’s and Marian’s antecedents, saw -that Wilford was in favor of New London, and so voted -accordingly, only asking that she might write to New -London with regard to Mrs. Hubbell and her fitness to -take charge of a child in whose veins Cameron blood was -flowing. To this Katy assented, and as the answer returned -to Mrs. Cameron’s letter was altogether favorable, -it was decided that Mrs. Hubbell should come to the city -at once for her little charge.</p> - -<p class='c011'>In a week’s time she arrived, seeming everything Katy -could ask for, and as Mrs. Cameron, too, approved her -heartily as a modest, well-spoken young woman, who -knew her place, it was arranged that she should return -home with her little charge on Saturday, thus giving Katy -the benefit of Sunday in which “to get over it and recover -her usual spirits,” Mrs. Cameron said. The fact -that Marian was going to New London within a week -after baby went, reconciled Katy to the plan, making her -even cheerful during the last day of baby’s stay at home. -But as the daylight waned and the night came on, a -shadow began to steal across her face, and her step was -slower as she went up the stairs to the nursery, while -only herself that night could disrobe the little creature -and hush it into sleep.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“’Tis the last time, you know,” she said to Kirby, who -went out, leaving the young mother and child alone.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mournfully sad and sweet was the lullaby Katy sang, -and Helen, who, in the hall, was listening to the low, sad -moaning,—half prayer, half benediction,—likened it to a -farewell between the living and dead. Half an hour later, -when she glanced into the room, lighted only by the moonbeams, -baby was sleeping in her crib, whilst Katy knelt -beside, her face buried in her hands, and her form quivering -<span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span>with the sobs she tried to smother as she softly -prayed that her darling might come back again; that -God would keep the little child and forgive the erring -mother, who had sinned so deeply since the time she used -to pray in her home among the hills of Massachusetts. -She was very white next morning, and to Helen she seemed -to be expanding into something more womanly, more mature, -as she disciplined herself to bear the pain welling -up so constantly from her heart, and at last overflowing -in a flood of tears, when Mrs. Hubbell was announced -as in the parlor below, waiting for her charge.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was Katy who made her baby ready, trusting her to -no one else, and repelling with a kind of fierce decision -all offers of assistance made either by Helen, Mrs. Cameron, -Bell, or the nurse, who were present, while Katy’s -hands drew on the little bright, soft socks of wool, tied -the hood of satin and lace, and fastened the scarlet cloak, -her tears falling fast as she met the loving, knowing look -the baby was just learning to give her, half smiling, half -cooing, as she bent her face down to it.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Please all of you go out,” she said, when baby was -ready—“Wilford and all. I would rather be alone.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>They granted her request, but Wilford stood beside the -open door, listening while the mother bade farewell to -her baby.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Darling,” she murmured, “what will poor Katy do -when you are gone, or what will comfort her as you have -done? Precious baby, my heart is breaking to give you -up; but will the Father in Heaven, who knows how much -you are to me, keep you from harm and bring you back -again? I’d give the world to keep you, but I cannot do -it, for Wilford says that you must go, and Wilford is your -father.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>At that moment Wilford Cameron would have given -half his fortune to have kept his child for Katy’s sake, -but it was now too late; the carriage was at the door, -and Mrs. Hubbell was waiting in the hall for the little -procession filing down the stairs. Mrs. Cameron and Bell, -Wilford and Katy, who carried the baby herself, her face -bent over it and her tears still dropping like rain. But it -was Wilford who took the baby to the carriage, going -<span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>with it to the train and seeing Mrs. Hubbell off; then, -on his way back, he drove round to his own house, which -even to him seemed lonely, with all the paraphernalia of -babyhood removed. Still, now that the worst was over, -he rather enjoyed it, for Katy was free from care; there -was nothing to hinder her gratifying his every wish, and -with his spirits greatly enlivened as he reflected how satisfactory -everything had been managed at the last, he proposed -taking both Helen and Katy to the theatre that night. -But Katy answered, “No, Wilford, not to-night; it seems -too much like baby’s funeral. I’ll go next week, but not -to-night.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>So Katy had her way, and among the worshipers who -next day knelt in Grace Church, with words of prayer -upon their lips, there was not one more in earnest than -she, whose only theme was, “My child, my darling child.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She did not get over it by Monday, as Mrs. Cameron -had predicted. She did not get over it at all, though -she went without a word where Wilford willed that she -should go, and was ere long a belle again, but nothing -had power to draw one look from her blue eyes, the look -which many observed, and which Helen knew sprang from -the mother-love, hungering for its child. Only once before -had Helen seen a look like this, and that had come -to Morris’s face on the sad night when she said to him, -“It might have been.” It had been there ever since, and -Helen felt that by the pangs with which that look was -born he was a better man, just as Katy was growing better -for that hunger in her heart. God was taking His own -way to purify them both, and Helen watched intently, -wondering what the end would be.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXV.<br> <span class='large'>AUNT BETSY GOES ON A JOURNEY.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Just through the woods, where Uncle Ephraim was -wont to exercise old Whitey, was a narrow strip of land, -extending from the highway to the pond, and fertile in -nothing except the huckleberry bushes, and the rocky ledges -over which a few sheep roamed, seeking for the short grass -<span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span>and stunted herbs, which gave them a meagre sustenance. -As a whole, it was comparatively valueless, but to Aunt -Betsy Barlow it was of great importance, as it was—<em>her -property</em>—the land on which she paid taxes willingly—the -real estate, the deed of which was lying undisturbed in -her hair trunk, where it had lain for years. Several dispositions -the good old lady had mentally made of this -property, sometimes dividing it equally between Helen and -Katy, sometimes willing it all to the former, and again, -when she thought of Mark Ray, leaving the <em>interest</em> of it -to some missionary society in which she was interested.</p> - -<p class='c011'>How, then, was the poor woman amazed and confounded -when suddenly there appeared a claimant to her property; -not the whole, but a part, and that part taking in -the big sweet apple-tree and the very best of the berry -bushes, leaving her nothing but rocks and bogs, a pucker -cherry-tree, a patch of tansy, and one small tree, whose -gnarly apples were not fit, she said, to feed the pigs.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Of course she was indignant, and all the more so because -the claimant was prepared to prove that the line -fence was not where it should be, but ran into his own -dominions for the width of two or three rods, a fact he -had just discovered by looking over a bundle of deeds, -in which the boundaries of his own farm were clearly -defined.</p> - -<p class='c011'>In her distress, Aunt Betsy’s first thoughts were turned -to <em>Wilford</em> as the man who could redress her wrongs, if -any one, and a long letter was written to him, in which -her grievances were told in detail and his advice solicited. -Commencing with “My dear Wilford,” closing with “Your -respected ant,” sealed with a wafer, stamped with her -thimble, and directed bottom side up, it nevertheless found -its way to No. —— Broadway, and into Wilford’s hands. -But with a frown and pish of contempt he tossed it into -the grate, and vain were all Aunt Betsy’s inquiries as to -whether there was any letter for her when Uncle Ephraim -came home from the office. Letters there were from Helen, -and sometimes one from Katy, but none from Wilford, -and her days were passed in great perplexity and distress, -until another idea took possession of her mind. She would -go to New York herself! She had never traveled over -<span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>half a dozen miles in the cars, it was true, but it was -time she had, and now that she had a new bonnet and -shawl, she could go to <em>York</em> as well as not!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wholly useless were the expostulations of the family, -for she would not listen to them, nor believe that she -would not be welcome at that house on Madison Square, -to which Mrs. Lennox had never been invited since Katy -was fairly settled in it. Much at first had been said of -her coming, and of the room she was to occupy; but all -that had ceased, and in the mother’s heart there had been -a painful doubt as to the reason of the silence, until -Helen’s letters enlightened her, telling her it was Wilford -who had built so high a wall between Katy and her -friends.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Far better than she used, did Mrs. Lennox understand -her son-in-law, and she shrank in horror from suffering -her aunt to go where she would be so serious an annoyance, -frankly telling her the reason for her objections, and -asking if she wished to mortify the girls</p> - -<p class='c011'>At this Aunt Betsy took umbrage at once.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She’d like to know what there was about her to mortify -anybody? Wasn’t her black silk dress made long and -full, and the old pongee fixed into a Balmoral, and hadn’t -she a bran new cap with purple ribbon, and couldn’t she -travel in her delaine, and didn’t she wear hoops always -now, except at cleanin’ house times? Didn’t she <em>nuss</em> -both the girls, especially Cather<em>ine</em>, carrying her in her arms -one whole night when she had the canker-rash, and everybody -thought she’d die? And when she swallered that -tin whistle, didn’t she spat her on the back and swing -her in the air till she came to and blew the whistle clear -across the room? Tell her that Cather<em>ine</em> would be -ashamed! She knew better!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then, as a doubt began to cross her own mind as to -Wilford’s readiness to entertain her at his house, she continued,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“At any rate, the <em>Tubbses</em>, who moved from Silverton -last fall, and who are living in such style on the Bowery, -wouldn’t be ashamed, and I can stop with them at first, -till I see how the land lies. They have invited me to -come, both Miss Tubbs and ’Tilda, and they are nice -<span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>folks, who belong to the Orthodox Church. Tom is in -town now, and if I see him I shall talk with him about -it, even if I never go.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Most devoutly did Mrs. Lennox and Aunt Hannah hope -that Tom would return to New York without honoring -the farm-house with a call; but, unfortunately for them, -he came that very afternoon, and instead of throwing -obstacles in Aunt Betsy’s way, urged her warmly to make -the proposed visit.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mother would be so glad to see an old neighbor,” -the honest youth said, “for she did not know many folks -in the city. <em>’Till</em> had made some flashy acquaintances, -of whom he did not think much, and they kept a few -boarders, but nobody had called, and mother was lonesome. -He wished Miss Barlow would come; she would -have no difficulty in finding them,” and on a bit of paper -he marked out the route of the Fourth Avenue cars, which -passed their door, and which Aunt Betsy would take after -arriving at the New Haven depot. “If he knew when -she was coming, he would meet her,” he said, but Aunt -Betsy could not tell; she was not quite certain whether -she should go at all, she was so violently opposed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Still she did not give it up entirely, and when, a few -days after Tom’s return to New York, there came a pressing -invitation from the daughter Matilda, or Mattie, as -she signed herself, the fever again ran high, and this -time with but little hope of its abating.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We shall be delighted, both mother and me,” Mattie -wrote. “I will show you all the lions of the city, and -when you get tired of us you can go up to Mrs. Cameron’s. -I know exactly where they live, and have seen her at the -opera in full dress, looking like a queen.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Over the last part of this letter Aunt Betsy pondered -for some time. “That as good an Orthodox as Miss -Tubbs should let her girl go to the opera, passed her. -She had wondered at Helen’s going, but then, she was a -’Piscopal, and them ’Piscopals had queer notions about -usin’ the world and abusin’ it.” Still, as Helen did <em>not</em> -attend the theatre, and <em>did</em> attend the opera, there must be -a difference between the two places, and into the old lady’s -heart there slowly crept the thought that possibly <em>she</em> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span>might try the opera, too, if Tilda Tubbs would go, and -promise never to tell the folks at Silverton.</p> - -<p class='c011'>This settled, Aunt Betsy began to devise the best means -of getting off with the least opposition. Both Morris and -her brother would be absent from town during the next -week, and she finally resolved to take that opportunity -for starting on her visit to New York, wisely concluding -to keep her own counsel until she was quite ready. Accordingly, -on the very day Morris and the deacon left -Silverton, she announced her intention so quietly and decidedly -that further opposition was useless, and Mrs. Lennox -did what she could to make her aunt presentable. -And Aunt Betsy did look very respectable, in her dark -delaine, with her hat and shawl, both Morris’s gift, and -both in very good taste. As for the black silk and the new -cap, they were carefully folded away, one in a box and -the other in a satchel she carried on her arm, and in one -compartment of which were sundry papers of fennel, caraway, -and catnip, intended for Katy’s baby, and which -could be sent to it from New York. There was also a -package of dried plums and peaches for Katy herself, and -a few cakes of yeast of her own make, better than any -they had in the city! Thus equipped, she one morning -took her seat in the Boston and New York train, which -carried her swiftly on towards Springfield.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If anybody can find their way in New York, it is -Betsy,” Aunt Hannah said to Mrs. Lennox, as the day -wore on and their thoughts went after the lone woman, -who, with satchel, umbrella and cap-box, was felicitating -in the luxury of a whole seat, and the near neighborhood -of a very nice young man, who listened with well-bred -interest while she told of her troubles concerning the -sheep-pasture, and how she was going to New York to -consult a first-rate lawyer.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Once she thought to tell who the lawyer was, and perhaps -enhance her own merits in the eyes of her auditor -by announcing herself as aunt to Mrs. Wilford Cameron, -of whom she had no doubt he had heard—nay, more, -whom he possibly knew, inasmuch as his home was in -New York, though he spent much of his time at West -Point, where he had been educated. But certain disagreeable -<span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span>remembrances of Aunt Hannah’s parting injunction, -“not to tell everybody in the cars that she was -Katy’s aunt,” kept her silent on that point, and so Lieutenant -Bob Reynolds failed to be enlightened with regard -to the relationship existing between the fastidious Wilford -Cameron of Madison Square, and the quaint old -lady whose very first act on entering the car had amused -him vastly. At a glance he saw that she was unused to -traveling, and as the car was crowded, he had kindly -offered his seat near the door, taking the side one under -the window, and so close to her that she gave him her -cap-box to hold while she adjusted her other bundles. This -done, and herself comfortably settled, she was just remaking -that she liked being close to the door, in case of -a fire, when the conductor appeared, extending his hand -officially towards her as the first one convenient. For an -instant Aunt Betsy scanned him closely, thinking she -surely had never seen him before, but as he seemed to -claim acquaintance, she could not find it in her kind -heart to ignore him altogether, and so she grasped the -offered hand, which she tried to shake, saying apologetically,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Pretty well, thank you, but you’ve got the better of -me, as I don’t justly recall your name.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Instantly the eyes of the young man under the window -met those of the conductor with a look which changed the -frown gathering in the face of the latter into a comical -smile, as he withdrew his hand and shouted,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ticket, madam, your ticket!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“For the land’s sake, have I got to give that up so -quick, when it’s at the bottom of my satchel,” Aunt Betsy -replied, somewhat crest-fallen at her mistake, and fumbling -in her pocket for the key, which was finally produced, -and one by one the paper parcels of fennel, caraway, -and catnip, dried plums, peaches and yeast cakes, -were taken out, until at the very bottom, as she had said, -the ticket was found, the conductor waiting patiently, -and advising her, by way of avoiding future trouble, to -pin the card to her shawl, where it could be seen.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“A right nice man,” was Aunt Betsy’s mental comment, -but for a long time there was a red spot on her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span>cheeks as she felt that she had made herself ridiculous, -and hoped the <em>girls</em> would never hear of it.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The young man helped to reassure her, and in telling -him her troubles she forgot her chagrin, feeling very -sorry that he was going on to Albany, and so down -the river to West Point. West Point was associated in -Aunt Betsy’s mind with that handful of noble men who -within the walls of Sumter were then the centre of so -much interest, and at parting with her companion she -said to him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Young man, you are a soldier, I take it, from your -havin’ been to school at West Point. Maybe you’ll never -have to use your learning, but if you do, stick to the -old flag. Don’t you go against that, and if an old -woman’s prayers for your safety can do any good, be -sure you’ll have mine.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She raised her hand reverently, and Lieutenant Bob -felt a kind of awe steal over him as if he might one day -need that benediction, the first perhaps given in the -cause then so terribly agitating all hearts both North -and South.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ll remember what you say,” he answered, and then -as a new idea was presented he took out a card, and -writing a few lines upon it, bade her hand it to the conductor -just as she was getting into the city.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Without her glasses Aunt Betsy could not read, and -thinking it did not matter now, she thrust the card into -her pocket, and bidding her companion good-by, took -her seat in the other train. Lonely and a very little -homesick she began to feel; for her new neighbors were -not as willing to talk as Bob had been, and she finally -relapsed into silence, which resulted in a quiet sleep, -from which she awoke just as they were entering the -long, dark tunnel, which she would have likened to Purgatory, -had she believed in such a place.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I didn’t know we ran into cellars,” she said faintly; -but nobody heeded her, or cared for the anxious timid-looking -woman, who grew more and more anxious, until -suddenly remembering the card, she drew it from her -pocket, and the next time the conductor appeared handed -it to him, watching him while he read that “Lieut. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span>Robert Reynolds would consider it as a personal favor -if he would see the bearer safely into the Fourth Avenue -cars.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Surely there is a Providence which watches over all; -and Lieutenant Reynolds’s thoughtfulness was not a mere -chance, but the answer to the simple trust Aunt Betsy -had that God would take her safely to New York. The -conductor knew Lieutenant Bob, and attended as faithfully -to his wishes as if it had been a born princess instead -of Aunt Betsy Barlow whom he led to a street car, -ascertaining the number on the Bowery where she wished -to stop, and reporting to the conductor, who bowed in -acquiescence, after glancing at the woman, and knowing -intuitively that she was from the country. Could she -have divested herself wholly of the fear that the conductor -would forget to put her off at the right place, -Aunt Betsy would have enjoyed that ride very much; -and as it was, she looked around with interest, thinking -New York a mightily cluttered-up place, and wondering -if all the folks were in the streets; then, as a lady in -flaunting robes took a seat beside her, crowding her into -a narrow space, the good old dame thought to show that -she did not resent it, by an attempt at sociability, asking -if she knew “Miss Peter Tubbs, whose husband kept a -store on the Bowery?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have not that honor,” was the haughty reply, the -lady drawing up her costly shawl and moving a little -away from her interlocutor, who continued, “I thought -like enough you might have seen ’Tilda, or Mattie as -she calls herself now. She is a right nice girl, and Tom -is a very forrard boy.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>To this there was no reply; and as the lady soon left -the car, Aunt Betsy did not make another attempt at -conversation, except to ask once how far they were from -the Bowery, adding, as she received a civil answer, “You -don’t know Mr. Peter Tubbs?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>That worthy man was evidently a stranger to the occupants -of that car, which stopped at last upon a crossing, -the conductor pointing back a few doors to the right, -and telling her that was her number.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I should s’pose he might have driv right up, instead -<span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span>of leaving me here,” she said, looking wistfully after the -retreating car. “Coats, and trowsers, and jackets! I -wonder if there is nothing else to be seen here,” she continued, -as her eye caught the long line of clothing so -conspicuously displayed in that part of the Bowery. -“’Taint no great shakes,” was the feeling struggling into -Aunt Betsy’s mind, as with Tom’s outline map in hand -she peered at the numbers of the doors, finding the right -one, and ringing the bell with a force which brought -Mattie at once to the rescue.</p> - -<p class='c011'>If Mattie was not glad to see her guest, she seemed to -be, which answered every purpose for the tired woman, -who followed her into the dark, narrow hall, and up the -narrow stairs, through a still darker hall, and into the -front parlor, which looked out upon the Bowery.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mrs. Tubbs was glad to see Aunt Betsy. She did not -take kindly to city life, and the sight of a familiar face, -which brought the country with it, was very welcome to -her. Mattie, on the contrary, liked New York, and there -was scarcely a street where she had not been, with Tom -for a protector; while she was perfectly conversant with -all the respectable places of amusement—with their different -prices and different grades of patrons. She knew -where Wilford Cameron’s office was, and also his house, -for she had walked by the latter many a time, admiring -the elegant curtains, and feasting her eyes upon the -glimpses of inside grandeur, which she occasionally obtained -as some one came out or went in. Once she had seen Helen -and Katy enter their carriage, which the colored coachman -drove away, but she had never ventured to accost them. -Katy would not have known her if she had, for the -family had come to Silverton while she was at Canandaigua, -and as, after her return to Silverton, until her marriage, -Mattie had been in one of the Lawrence factories, they had -never met. With Helen, however, she had a speaking -acquaintance; but she had never presumed upon it in -New York, though to some of her young friends she had -told how she once sat in the same pew with Mrs. Wilford -Cameron’s sister when she went to the “Episcopal meeting,” -and the consideration which this fact procured for -her from those who had heard of Mrs. Wilford Cameron, of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span>Madison Square, awoke in her the ambition to know more -of that lady, and, if possible, gain an entrance to her -dwelling. To this end she favored Aunt Betsy’s visit, -hoping thus to accomplish her object, for, of course, when -Miss Barlow went to Mrs. Cameron’s, she was the proper -person to go with her and point the way. This was the -secret of Mattie’s letter to Aunt Betsy, and the warmth -with which she welcomed her to that tenement on the -Bowery, over a clothing store, and so small that it is -not strange Aunt Betsy wondered where they all slept, -never dreaming of the many devices known to city housekeepers, -who can change a handsome parlor into a kitchen -or sleeping room, and <i><span lang="la">vice versa</span></i>, with little or no trouble. -But she found it out at last, lifting her hands in speechless -amazement, when, as the hour for retiring came, what -she had imagined the parlor bookcase was converted into -a comfortable bed, on which her first night in New -York was passed in comfort if not in perfect quiet.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The next day had been set apart by Mattie for showing -their guest the city, and possibly calling on Mrs. -Wilford; but the poor old lady, unused to travel and excitement, -was too tired to go out, and stayed at home the -entire day, watching the crowds of people in the street, -and occasionally wishing herself back in the clean, bright -kitchen, where the windows looked out upon woods and -fields instead of that never-ceasing rush which made her -dizzy and faint. On the whole she was as nearly homesick -as she well could be, and so when Mattie asked if -she would like to go out that evening, she caught eagerly -at the idea, as it involved a change, and again the -opera came before her mind, in spite of her attempts to -thrust it away.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Did ’Tilda know if Katy went to the opera now? -Did she s’pose she would be there to-night? Was it far -to the show? What was the price?—and was it a very -wicked place?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>To all these queries Mattie answered readily. She -presumed Katy would be there, as it was a new opera. -It was not so very far. Distance in the city was nothing, -and it was not a wicked place; but over the price -Mattie faltered. Tickets for Aunt Betsy, herself and Tom, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span>who of course must go with them, would cost more than -her father had to give. The theatre was preferable, as -that came within their means, and she suggested Wallack’s, -but from that Aunt Betsy recoiled as from Pandemonium -itself.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Catch <em>her</em> at a theatre—a deacon’s sister, looked up -to for a sample, and who run once for Vice-President of -the Sewing Society in Silverton! It was too terrible to -think of.” But the opera seemed different. Helen went -there; it could not be very wrong, particularly as the -tickets were so high, and taking out her purse, Aunt -Betsy counted its contents carefully, holding the bills -thoughtfully for a moment, while she seemed to be balancing -between what she knew was safe and what she -feared might be wrong, at least in the eyes of Silverton.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But Silverton will never know it,” the tempter -whispered, “and it is worth something to see the girls in -full dress.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This last decided it, and Aunt Betsy generously offered -“to pay the fiddler, provided ’Tilda would never let it -get to Silverton, that Betsy Barlow was seen inside a -play-house!” To Mrs. Tubbs it seemed impossible that -Aunt Betsy could be in earnest, but when she found she -was, she put no impediments in her way; and so, conspicuous -among the crowd of transient visitors who that -night entered the Academy of Music was Aunt Betsy -Barlow, chaperoned by Miss Mattie Tubbs, and protected -by Tom, a shrewd, well-grown youth of seventeen, who -passed for some years older, and consequently was a -sufficient escort for the ladies under his charge. It was -not his first visit there, and he managed to procure a seat -which commanded a good view of several private boxes, -and among them that of Wilford Cameron. This Mattie -pointed out to the excited woman gazing about her in -a maze of bewilderment, and half doubting her own -identity with the Betsy Barlow who, six weeks before, if -charged with such a sin as she was now committing, -would have exclaimed, “Is thy servant a dog, to do this -thing?” Yet here she was, a deacon’s sister, a candidate -for the Vice-Presidency of the Silverton Sewing Society, -a woman who, for sixty-three years and a half, had led a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>blameless life, frowning upon all worldly amusements -and setting herself for a burning light to others—here -she was in her black dress, her best shawl pinned across -her chest, and her bonnet tied in a square bow which -reached nearly to her ears. Here she was, in that huge -building, where the lights were so blinding, and the -crowd so great that she shut her eyes involuntarily, while -she tried to realize what she could be doing.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’m in for it now, anyhow, and if it is wrong may -the good Father forgive me,” she said softly to herself, -just as the orchestra struck up, thrilling her with its -ravishing strains, and making her forget all else in her -rapturous delight.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was very fond of music, and listened eagerly, -beating time with both her feet, and making her bonnet -go up and down until the play commenced and she saw -stage dress and stage effect for the first time in her life. -This part she did not like; “they mumbled their words -so nobody could understand more than if they spoke a -heathenish tongue,” she thought, and she was beginning -to yawn when a nudge from Mattie and a whisper, -“There they come,” roused her from her stupor, and -looking up she saw both Helen and Katy entering their -box, and with them Mark Ray and Wilford Cameron.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Very rapidly Katy’s eyes swept the house, running -over the sea of heads below, but failing to see the figure -which, half rising from its seat, stood gazing upon her, -the tears running like rain over the upturned face, and -the lips murmuring, “Darling Katy! blessed child! She’s -thinner than when I see her last, but oh! so beautiful -and grand! Precious lambkin! It isn’t wicked now for -me to be coming here, where I can see her face -again.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was all in vain that Mattie pulled her dress, bidding -her sit down as people were staring at her. Aunt Betsy -did not hear, and if she had she would scarcely have -cared for those who, following her eyes, saw the beautiful -young ladies, behind whom Wilford and Mark were -standing, but never dreamed of associating them with the -“crazy thing” who sank back at last into her seat, keeping -her eyes still upon the box where Helen and Katy -<span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span>sat, their heads uncovered, and their cloaks falling off -just enough to show the astonished woman that their -necks were uncovered too, while Helen’s arms, raised -to adjust her glass, were discovered to be in the same -condition.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ain’t they splendid in full dress!” Mattie whispered, -while Aunt Betsy replied,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Call that full dress? I’d sooner say it was no dress -at all! They’ll catch their death of cold. What would -their mother say?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then, as the enormity of the act grew upon her, she -continued more to herself than to Mattie,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I mistrusted Catherine, but that <em>Helen</em> should come to -this passes me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Still, as she became more accustomed to it, and glanced -at other full-dressed ladies, the first shock passed away, -and she could calmly contemplate Katy’s dress, wondering -what it cost, and then letting her eyes pass on to -Helen, to whom Mark Ray seemed so lover-like that Aunt -Betsy remembered her impressions when he stopped at -Silverton, her heart swelling with pride as she thought -of both the girls making out so well.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Who is that young man talking to Helen?” Mattie -asked, between the acts, and when told it “was Mr. Ray, -Wilford’s partner,” she drew her breath eagerly, and -turned again to watch him, envying the young girl who -did not seem as much gratified with the attentions as -Mattie fancied she should be were she in Helen’s -place.</p> - -<p class='c011'>How could she, with Juno Cameron just opposite, -watching her jealously, while Madam Cameron fanned -herself indignantly, refusing to look upon what she so -greatly disapproved.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Mark continued his attentions until Helen wished -herself away, and though a good deal surprised, was -not sorry when Wilford abruptly declared the opera a -<em>bore</em>, and suggested going home.</p> - -<p class='c011'>They would order an ice, he said, and have a much -pleasanter time in their own private parlor.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Please not go; I like the play to-night,” Katy said; -but on Wilford’s face there was that look which never -<span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span>consulted Katy’s wishes, and so the two ladies tied on -their cloaks, and just as the curtain rose in the last act, -left their box, while Aunt Betsy looked wistfully after -them, but did not suspect <em>she</em> was the cause of their exit, -and of Wilford’s perturbation.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Running his eyes over the house below, they had fallen -upon the trio, Aunt Betsy, Mattie, and Tom, the first of -whom was at that moment partly standing, while she adjusted -her heavy shawl, which the heat of the building -had compelled her to unfasten.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a start, a rush of blood to the head and -face, and then he reflected how impossible it was that <em>she</em> -should be <em>there</em>, in New York, and at the opera, too.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The shawl arranged, Aunt Betsy took her seat and turned -her face fully toward him, while Wilford seized Katy’s -glass and leveled it at her. He was not mistaken. It was -Aunt Betsy Barlow, and Wilford felt the perspiration oozing -out beneath his hair and about his lips, as he remembered -<em>the letter</em> he had burned, wishing now that he had -answered it, and so, perhaps, have kept her from his door. -For she <em>was</em> coming there, nay, possibly had come, since his -departure from home, and learning his whereabouts had -followed on to the Academy of Music, leaving her baggage -where he should stumble over it on entering the hall.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Such was the fearful picture conjured up by Wilford’s -imagination, as he stood watching poor Aunt Betsy, a dark -cloud on his brow and fierce anger at his heart, that she -should thus presume to worry and annoy him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If she spies us she will be finding her way up here; -there’s no piece of effrontery of which that class is not -capable,” he thought, wondering next who the vulgar-looking -girl and <i><span lang="fr">gauche</span></i> youth were who were with her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Country cousins, of whom I have never heard, no -doubt,” and he ground his teeth together as with his next -breath he suggested going home, carrying out his suggestion -and hurrying both Helen and Katy to the carriage -as if some horrible dragon had been on their track.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was <em>no</em> baggage in the hall; there had been no -woman there, and Wilford’s fears for a time subsided, but -grew strong again about the time he knew the opera was -out, while the sound of wheels coming towards his door -<span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span>was sufficient to make his heart stop beating, and every -hair prickle at its roots.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Aunt Betsy did not come except in Wilford’s dreams, -which she haunted the entire night, so that the morning -found him tired, moody and cross. That day they entertained -a select dinner party, and as this was something -in which Katy excelled, while Helen’s presence, instead of -detracting from, would add greatly to the éclat of the affair, -Wilford had anticipated it with no small degree of -complacency. But now, alas, there was a phantom at his -side,—a skeleton of horror, wearing Aunt Betsy’s guise; -and if it had been possible he would have given the dinner -up. But it was too late for that; the guests were bidden, -the arrangements made, and there was nothing now for -him but to abide the consequences.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She shall at least stay in her room, if I have to lock -her in,” he thought, as he went down to his office without -kissing Katy or bidding her good-by.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Business that day had no interest for him, and in a -listless, absent way he sat watching the passers-by and -glancing at his door as if he expected the first assault to -be made there. Then, as the day wore on, and he felt -sure that what he so much dreaded had really come to -pass, that the baggage expected last night had certainly -arrived by this time and spread itself over his house, he -could endure the suspense no longer, and startled Mark -with the announcement that he was going home, and -should not return again that day.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Going home, when Leavit is to call at three!” Mark -said, in much surprise, and feeling that it would be a -relief to unburden himself to some one, the story came -out that Wilford had seen Aunt Betsy at the opera, and -expected to find her at Madison Square.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I wish I had answered her letter about that confounded -sheep-pasture,” he said, “for I would rather give a thousand -dollars—yes, ten thousand—than have her with us to-day. -I did <em>not</em> marry my wife’s relations,” he continued, excitedly, -adding, as Mark looked quickly up, “Of course I -don’t mean Helen. Neither do I mean that doctor, for -he is a gentleman. But this Barlow woman—oh! Mark, -I am all of a dripping sweat just to think of it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span>He did not say what he intended doing, but with Mark -Ray’s ringing laugh in his ears, passed into the street, and -hailing a stage was driven towards home, just as a down -town stage deposited on the walk in front of his office “that -Barlow woman” and Mattie Tubbs!</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXVI.<br> <span class='large'>AUNT BETSY CONSULTS A LAWYER.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Aunt Betsy did not rest well after her return from the -opera. Novelty and excitement always kept her awake, and -her mind was not wholly at ease with regard to what she -had done. Not that she really felt she had committed a -sin, except so far as the example might be bad, but she -feared the result, should it ever reach the Orthodox church -at Silverton.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“There’s no telling what Deacon Bannister would do—send -a <em>subpœna</em> after me, for what I know,” she thought, -as she laid her tired head upon her pillow and went off -into a weary state, half way between sleep and wakefulness, -in which operas, play-actors, Katy in full dress, -Helen and Mark Ray, choruses, music by the orchestra, -to which she had been guilty of beating her foot, Deacon -Bannister, and the whole offended brotherhood, with constable -and subpœnas, were pretty equally blended together.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But with the daylight her fears subsided, and at the -breakfast table she was hardly less enthusiastic over the -opera than Mattie herself, averring, however, that “once -would do her, and she had no wish to go again.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The sight of Katy had awakened all the olden intense -love she had felt for her darling, and she could not wait -much longer without seeing her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Hannah and Lucy, and amongst ’em, advised me not -to come,” she said to Mrs. Tubbs, “and they hinted that -I might not be wanted up there; but now I’m here I shall -go, if I don’t stay more than an hour.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Of course I should,” Mattie answered, herself anxious -to stand beneath Wilford Cameron’s roof, and see Mrs. -Wilford at home. “She don’t look as proud as Helen, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span>you are her aunt, her blood kin; why shouldn’t you go -there if you like?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I shall—I am going,” Aunt Betsy replied, feeling that -to take Mattie with her was not quite the thing, and not -exactly knowing how to manage, for the girl must of -course pilot the way. “I’ll risk it and trust to Providence,” -was her final decision, and so after an early lunch -she started out with Mattie as her escort, suggesting that -they visit Wilford’s office first, and get that affair off her -mind.</p> - -<p class='c011'>At this point Aunt Betsy began to look upon herself as -a most hardened wretch, wondering at the depths of iniquity -to which she had fallen. The opera was the least -of her offences, for was she not harboring pride and contriving -how to be rid of ’Tilda Tubbs, as clever a girl as -ever lived, hoping that if she found Wilford he would see -her home, and so save ’Tilda the trouble? Play-houses, -pride, vanity, subterfuges and deceit—it was a long catalogue -she would have to confess to Deacon Bannister, if -confess she did, and with a groan the conscience-smitten -woman followed her conductor along the streets, and at last -into the stage which took them to Wilford’s office.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Broadway was literally jammed that day, and the aid of -two policemen was required to extricate the bewildered -countrywoman from the mass of vehicles and horses’ heads, -which took all her sense away. Trembling like a leaf when -Mattie explained that the “two nice men” who had -dragged her to the walk were police officers, and thinking -again of the subpœna, the frightened woman who had escaped -such peril, followed up the two flights of stairs -and into Wilford’s office, where she sank breathless into a -chair, while Mark, not in the least surprised, greeted her -cordially, and very soon succeeded in getting her quiet, -bowing so graciously to Mattie when introduced that the -poor girl dreamed of him for many a night, and by day -built castles of what might have been had she been rich, -instead of only ’Tilda Tubbs, whose home was on the -Bowery. Why need Aunt Betsy in her introduction have -mentioned that fact? Mattie thought, her cheeks burning -scarlet; or why need she afterwards speak of her as <em>’Tilda</em>, -who was kind enough to come with her to the office where -<span class='pageno' id='Page_228'>228</span>she hoped to find Wilford? Poor Mattie, she knew some -things very well, but she had never yet conceived of the -immeasurable distance between herself and Mark Ray, who -cared but little whether her home were on the Bowery or -on Murray Hill, after the first sight which told him what -she was.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mr. Cameron has just left the office and will not return -to-day,” he said to Aunt Betsy, asking if <em>he</em> could -assist her in any way, and assuring her of his willingness -to do so.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Aunt Betsy could talk with him better than with Wilford, -and was about to give him the story of the sheep-pasture, -in detail, when, motioning to a side door, he said, -“Walk in here, please. You will not be liable to so -many interruptions.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Come, ’Tilda, it’s no privacy,” Aunt Betsy said; but -<em>’Tilda</em> felt intuitively that she was not wanted, and rather -haughtily declined, amusing herself by the window, while -Aunt Betsy in the private office told her troubles to Mark -Ray; and received in return the advice to let the claimant -go to law if he chose; he probably would make nothing -by it; even if he did, she would not sustain a heavy -loss, according to her own statement of the value of the -land.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If I could keep the sweet apple-try, I wouldn’t care,” -Aunt Betsy said, “for the rest ain’t worth a law-suit; -though it’s my property, and I have thought of <em>willing</em> it -to Helen, if she ever marries.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Here was a temptation which Mark Ray could not resist. -Ever since Mrs. General Reynolds’s party Helen’s -manner had puzzled him; but her shyness only made him -more in love than ever, while the rumor of her engagement -with Dr. Morris tormented him continually. Sometimes -he believed it, and sometimes he did not, wishing always -that he knew for certain. Here then was a chance -for confirming his fears or for putting them at rest, and -blessing ’Tilda Tubbs for declining to enter his back office, -he said in reply to Aunt Betsy’s “If she ever marries”—“And -of course she will. She is engaged, I believe?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Engaged! <em>Who to?</em> When? Strange she never writ, -nor Katy neither,” Aunt Betsy exclaimed, while Mark, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_229'>229</span>raised to an ecstatic state, replied, “I refer to Dr. Grant. -Haven’t they been engaged for a long time past?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why—no—indeed,” was the response, and Mark could -have hugged the good old lady, who continued in a confidential -tone, “I used to think they’d make a good match; -but I’ve gin that up, and I sometimes mistrust ’twas Katy -Morris wanted. Anyhow; he’s mighty changed since she -was married, and he never speaks her name. I never heard -anybody say so, and maybe it’s all a fancy, so you won’t -mention it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Certainly not,” Mark replied, drawing nearer to her, -and continuing in a low tone, “Isn’t it possible that after -all Helen is engaged to her cousin, and you do not know -it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No,” and Aunt Betsy grew very positive. “I am sure -she ain’t, for only t’other day I said to Morris that I -wouldn’t wonder if Helen and <em>another chap</em> had a hankerin’ -for one another; and he said he wished it might be -so, for <em>you</em>—no, that <em>other chap</em>, I mean—would make a -splendid husband,” and Aunt Betsy turned very red at the -blunder, which made Mark Ray feel as if he walked on -air, with no obstacle whatever in his way.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Still he could not be satisfied without probing her a -little deeper, and so he said, “And that <em>other chap</em>? Does -he live in Silverton?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Aunt Betsy’s look was a sufficient answer; for the old -lady knew he was quizzing her, just as she felt that in -some way she had removed a stumbling-block from his -path. She had,—a very large stumbling-block, and in the -first flush of his joy and gratitude he could do most anything. -So when she spoke of going up to Katy’s he set -himself industriously at work to prevent it for that day at -least. “They were to have a large dinner party,” he said, -“and both Mrs. Cameron and Miss Lennox would be wholly -occupied. Would it not be better to wait until to-morrow? -Did she contemplate a long stay in New York?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, she might go back to-morrow,—certainly the day -after,” Aunt Betsy replied, her voice trembling at this -fresh impediment thrown in the way of her seeing Katy.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The quaver in her voice touched Mark’s sympathy. “She -was old and simple-hearted. She was Helen’s aunt,” and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_230'>230</span>this, more than aught else, helped him to a decision. “She -must be homesick in the Bowery; he would take her to -his mother’s and keep her until the morrow, and perhaps -until she left for home; telling Helen, of course, and then -suffering her to act accordingly.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This he proposed to his client; assuring her of his -mother’s entire willingness to receive her, and urging so -many reasons why she should go there, instead of “up to -Katy’s,” where they were in such confusion, that Aunt -Betsy was at last persuaded, and was soon riding up town -in a Twenty-third Street stage, with Mark Ray her <i><span lang="fr">vis-à-vis</span></i>, -and Mattie at her right. Why Mattie was there Mark -could not conjecture; and perhaps she did not know herself, -unless it were that, disappointed in her call on Mrs. -Cameron, she vaguely hoped for some redress by calling -on Mrs. Banker. How then was she chagrined, when, as -the stage left them at a handsome brown-stone front, near -Fifth Avenue Hotel, Mark said to her, as if she were not -of course expected to go in, “Please tell your mother that -Miss Barlow is stopping with Mrs. Banker to-day. Has -she baggage at your house? If so, we will send round for -it at once. Your number, please?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>His manner was so off hand and yet; so polite that Mattie -could neither resist him, nor be angry, though there was -a pang of disappointment at her heart as she gave the required -number, and then shook Aunt Betsy’s hand, whispering -in a choked voice,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You’ll come to us again before you go home?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>With a good-bye to Mark, whose bow atoned for a great -deal, Mattie walked slowly away, leaving Mark greatly relieved. -Aunt Betsy was as much as he cared to have on -his hands at once, and as he led her up the steps, he began -to wonder more and more what his mother would say to -his bringing that stranger into her house, unbidden and -unsought.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ll tell her the truth,” was his rapid decision, and assuming -a manner which warned the servant who answered -his ring neither to be curious nor impertinent, he conducted -his charge into the parlor, and bringing her a -chair before the grate, went in quest of his mother, who -he found was out.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_231'>231</span>“Kindle a fire then in the front guest-chamber,” he -said, “and see that it is made comfortable as soon as -possible.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The servant bowed in acquiescence, wondering <em>who</em> had -come, and feeling not a little surprised at the description -given by John of the woman he had let into the house, and -who now in the parlor was looking around her in astonishment -and delight, condemning herself for the feeling of -homesickness with which she remembered the Bowery, and -contrasting her “cluttered quarters” there with the elegance -around her. “Was Katy’s house as fine as this?” -she asked herself, feeling intuitively that such as she might -be out of place in it, just as she began to fear she was out -of her place here, bemoaning the fact that she had forgotten -her <em>cap-box</em>, with its contents, and so could not remove -her bonnet, as she had nothing with which to cover -her gray head.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What shall I do?” she was asking herself, when Mark -appeared, explaining that his mother was absent, but would -be at home in a short time.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Your room will soon be ready,” he continued, “and -meantime you might lay aside your wrappings here if you -find them too warm.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was something about Mark Ray which inspired -confidence, and in her extremity Aunt Betsy gasped, “I -can’t take off my bunnet till I get my caps, down to Mr. -Tubbses. Oh, what a trouble I be.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Not exactly comprehending the nature of the difficulty, -Mark suggested that she go without a cap until he could -send for them; but Aunt Betsy’s assertion that “she was -grayer than a rat,” enlightened him with regard to her -dilemma, and full permission was given for her “to sit in -her bonnet” until such time as a messenger could go to -the Bowery and back. In this condition she was better -in her own room, and as it was in readiness, Mark conducted -her to it, the stern gravity of his face putting down -the laugh which sprang to the waiting-maid’s eyes at the -old lady’s ejaculations of surprise that anything could be -so fine as the house where she so unexpectedly found herself -a guest.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She is unaccustomed to the city, but a particular friend -<span class='pageno' id='Page_232'>232</span>of mine; so see that you treat her with respect,” was all -the explanation he vouchsafed to the curious girl.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But that was enough. A friend of Mr. Ray’s must be -somebody, even if she sat with two bonnets on instead of -one, and appeared ten times more rustic than Aunt Betsy, -who breathed freer when she found herself alone up stairs, -and knew her baggage would soon be there.</p> - -<p class='c011'>In some little trepidation Mark paced up and down the -parlor waiting for his mother, who came ere long, expressing -her surprise to find him there, and asking if anything -had happened that he seemed so agitated.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, I’m in a deuced scrape,” he answered, coming -up to her with the saucy, winning smile she could never -resist, and continuing, “To begin at the foundation, you -know how much I am in love with Helen Lennox?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, I don’t,” was the reply, as Mrs. Banker removed -her fur with the most provoking coolness. “How should -I know when you have never told me?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Haven’t you eyes? Can’t you see? Don’t you like -her yourself?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, very much.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And are you willing she should be your daughter?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mark had his arm around his mother’s neck, and bending -his face to hers, kissed her playfully as he asked her the -last question.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Say, mother, are you willing I should marry Helen -Lennox?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a struggle in Mrs. Banker’s heart, and for a -moment she felt jealous of the girl who she had guessed -was dearer to her son than ever his mother could be again; -but she was a sensible woman. She knew that it was -natural for another and a stronger love to come between her -and her boy. She liked Helen Lennox. She was willing -to take her as a daughter, and she said so at last, and -listened half amazed and half amused to the story which -had in it so much of Aunt Betsy Barlow, at that very moment -an occupant of their best guest-chamber, waiting for -her cap from the Bowery.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Perhaps it was wrong to bring her home,” he added, -“but I did it to spare Helen. I knew what a savage Wilford -<span class='pageno' id='Page_233'>233</span>would be if he found her there. Say, mother, was -I wrong?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He was not often wrong in his mother’s estimation, and -certainly he was not now, when he kissed her so often, -begging her to say he had done right.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Certainly he had. Mrs. Banker was very glad to find -him so thoughtful; few young men would do as much,” -she said, and from feeling a little doubtful, Mark came to -look upon himself as a very nice young man, who had done -a most unselfish act, for of course he had not been influenced -by any desire to keep Aunt Betsy from the people -who would be present at the dinner, neither had Helen -been at all mixed up in the affair.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was all himself, and he began to whistle “Annie -Laurie” very complacently, thinking the while what a -clever fellow he was, and meditating other generous acts -towards the old lady overhead, who was standing by the -window, and wondering what the huge building could be -gleaming so white in the fading sunlight.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Looks as if it was made of stone cheena,” she thought, -just as Mrs. Banker appeared, her kind, friendly manner -making Aunt Betsy feel wholly at ease, as she answered -the lady’s questions or volunteered remarks of her own.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mrs. Banker had lived in the country, and had seen just -such women as Aunt Betsy Barlow, understanding her intrinsic -worth, and knowing how Helen Lennox, though her -niece, could still be refined and cultivated. She could also -understand how one educated as Wilford Cameron had -been, would shrink from coming in contact with her, and -possibly be rude if she thrust herself upon him. Mark -did well to bring her here, she thought, as she left the -room to order the tea which the tired woman so much -needed. The satchel, umbrella, and cap-box, with a note -from Mattie, had by this time arrived, and in her Sunday -cap, with the purple bows, Aunt Betsy felt better, and enjoyed -the tempting little supper, served on silver and -Sèvres china, the attendant waiting in the hall instead of -in her room, where her presence might embarrass one unaccustomed -to such usages. They were very kind, and had -Mark been her own son he could not have been more deferential -than he appeared when just before starting for the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_234'>234</span>dinner he went up to see her, asking what message he -should take to Helen. Mrs. Banker, too, came in, her -dress eliciting many compliments from her guest, who ventured -to ask the price of the diamond pin which fastened -the point lace collar. Five hundred dollars seemed an -enormous sum, but Aunt Betsy was learning not to say all -she thought, and merely remarked that Katy had some diamonds -too, which she presumed cost full much as that.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She should do very well alone,” she said; “she could -read her Bible, and if she got too tired, go to bed,” and -with a good-bye she sent them away, after saying to Mrs. -Banker, “Maybe you ain’t the kissin’ kind, but if you be, -I wish you would kiss Katy once for me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a merry twinkle in Mark’s eyes as he asked,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And Helen too?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I meant your marm, not you,” Aunt Betsy answered; -while Mrs. Banker raised her hand to her mischievous son, -who ran lightly down the stairs, carrying a happier heart -than he had known since Helen Lennox first came to New -York, and he met her at the depot.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXVII.<br> <span class='large'>THE DINNER PARTY.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>It was a very select party which Wilford Cameron entertained -that evening; and as the carriages rolled to his -door and deposited the guests, the cloud which had been -lifting ever since he came home and found “no Barlow -woman” there, disappeared, leaving him the blandest, most -urbane of hosts, pleased with everybody—himself, his -guests, his sister-in-law, and his wife, who had never looked -better than she did to-night, in pearls and light blue silk, -which harmonized so perfectly with her wax-like complexion. -Aunt Betsy’s proximity was wholly unsuspected, both -by her and Helen, who was very handsome, in crimson -and black, with lilies in her hair. Nothing could please -Mark better than his seat at table, where he could look into -her eyes, which dropped so shyly whenever they met his -gaze. Helen was beginning to doubt the story of his engagement -with Juno. Certainly she could not mistake the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_235'>235</span>nature of the attentions he paid to her, especially to-night, -when he hovered continually near her, totally ignoring -Juno’s presence, and conscious apparently of only one form, -one face, and that the face and form of Helen Lennox.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was another, too, who felt the influence of Helen’s -beauty, and that was Lieutenant Bob, who, after dinner, -attached himself to her side, while around them gathered -quite a group, all listening with peals of laughter as Bob -related his adventure of two days before, with “the most -rustic and charming old lady it was ever his fortune to -meet.” Told by Bob the story lost nothing of its freshness; -for every particular, except indeed the kindness he -had shown her, was related, even to the <em>sheep-pasture</em>, about -which she was going to New York to consult a lawyer.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I thought once of referring her to you, Mr. Cameron,” -Bob said; “but couldn’t find it in my heart to quiz her, -she was so wholly unsuspicious. You have not seen her, -have you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No,” came faintly from the lips which tried to smile; -but Wilford knew who was the heroine of that story; wondering -more and more where she was, and feeling a sensation -of uneasiness, as he thought, “Can any accident have -befallen her?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was hardly probable; but Wilford felt very uncomfortable -after hearing the story, which had brought a -pang of doubt and fear to another mind than his. From -the very first Helen feared that Aunt Betsy was the “odd -woman” who had gotten upon the train at some station -which Bob could not remember; while, as the story progressed, -she was sure of it, for she had heard of the sheep-pasture -trouble, and of Aunt Betsy’s projected visit to New -York, privately writing to her mother not to suffer it, as -Wilford would be greatly vexed. “Yes, it must be Aunt -Betsy,” she thought, and she turned so white that Mark, -who was watching both her and Wilford, came as soon as -possible to her side, and adroitly separating her from the -group around, said softly, “You look tired, Miss Lennox. -Come with me a moment. I have something to tell you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Alone with her in the hall, he continued, “I have the -sequel of Bob Reynolds’s story. That woman——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Was Aunt Betsy,” Helen gasped. “But where is she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_236'>236</span>now? That was two days ago. Tell me if you know. Mr. -Ray, you <em>do</em> know,” and in an agony of fear lest something -dreadful had happened, she laid her hand on Mark’s, beseeching -him to tell her if he knew where Aunt Betsy was.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was worth torturing her for a moment to see the -pleading look in her eyes, and feel the soft touch of the -hand which he took between both his own, holding it there -while he answered her: “Aunt Betsy is at my house; -kidnapped by me for safe keeping, until I could consult -with you. Was that right?” he asked, as a flush came to -Helen’s cheek, and an expression to her eye which told -that his meaning was understood.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is she there willingly? How did it happen?” was -Helen’s reply, her hand still in those of Mark, who, thus -circumstanced, grew very warm and eloquent with the -sequel to Bob’s story, making it as long as possible, telling -what he knew, and also what he had done.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He had not implicated Wilford in any way; but Helen -read it all, saying more to herself than him, “And <em>she</em> was -at the opera. Wilford must have seen her, and that is -why he left so suddenly, and why he has appeared so absent -and nervous to-day, as if expecting something. Excuse -me,” she suddenly added, drawing her hand away and -stepping back a little, “I forgot that I was talking as if -<em>you</em> knew.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I do know more than you suppose—that is, I know -human nature—and I know Will better than I did that -morning when I first met you,” Mark said, glancing at the -freed hand he wished so much to take again.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Helen kept her hands to herself, and answered him,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You did right under the circumstances. It would -have been unpleasant for us all had she happened here -to-night. I thank you, Mr. Ray—you and your mother, -too—more than I can express. I will see her early to-morrow -morning. Tell her so, please, and again I thank -you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There were tears in Helen’s soft brown eyes, and they -glittered like diamonds as she looked even more than spoke -her thanks to the young man, who, for another look like -that, would have driven Aunt Betsy amid the gayest crowd -that ever frequented the Park, and sworn she was his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_237'>237</span>blood relation! A few words from Mrs. Banker confirmed -what Mark had said, and it was not strange if that night -Miss Lennox, usually so entertaining, was a little absent, -for her thoughts were up in that chamber on Twenty-third -Street, where Aunt Betsy sat alone, but not lonely, -for her mind was very busy with all she had been through -since leaving Silverton, while something kept suggesting -to her that it would have been wiser and better to have -stayed at home than to have ventured where she was so -sadly out of place. This last came gradually to Aunt -Betsy as she thought the matter over, and remembered Wilford -as he had appeared each time he came to Silverton.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I ain’t like him; I ain’t like this Miss Banker; I ain’t -like anybody,” she whispered. “I’m nothin’ but a homely, -old-fashioned woman, without larnin’, without nothin’. I -might know I wasn’t wanted,” and a rain of tears fell -over the wrinkled face as she uttered this tirade against -herself, standing before the long mirror, and inspecting -the image it gave back of a plain, unpolished countrywoman, -not much resembling Mrs. Banker, it must be confessed, -nor much resembling the gay young ladies she had -seen at the opera the previous night. “I won’t go near -Katy,” she continued; “it would only mortify her, and I -don’t want to make her trouble. The poor thing’s face -looked as if she had it now, and I won’t add to it. I’ll -start for home to-morrow. There’s Miss Smith, in Springfield, -will keep me over night, and Katy shan’t be bothered.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>When this decision was reached, Aunt Betsy felt a great -deal better, and taking the Bible from the table, she sat -down again before the fire, opening, as by a special Providence, -to the chapter where the hewers of wood and drawers -of water are mentioned as being necessary to mankind, -each filling his appointed place.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That’s me—that’s Betsy Barlow,” she whispered, taking -off her glasses to wipe away the moisture gathering -so fast upon them. Then resuming them, she continued, -“I’m a hewer of wood—a drawer of water. God made me -so, and shall the clay find fault with the potter, for making -it into a homely jug? No, indeed; and I was a very -foolish old jug to think of sticking myself in with the -china ware. But I’ve larnt a lesson,” and the philosophic -<span class='pageno' id='Page_238'>238</span>old woman read on, feeling comforted to know that though -a vessel of the rudest make, a paltry <em>jug</em>, as she called herself, -the promises were still for her as much as for the -finer wares—aye, that there was more hope of her entering -at last where “the walls are all of precious stones and the -streets are paved with gold,” than of those whose good -things are given so abundantly during their lifetime.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Assured, comforted, and encouraged, she fell asleep at -last, and when Mrs. Banker returned she found her slumbering -quietly in her chair, the Bible open on her lap, and -her finger upon the passage referring to the hewers of wood -and drawers of water, as if that was the last thing read.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Next morning, at a comparatively early hour, Helen -stood ringing the bell of Mrs. Banker’s house. She had -said to Katy that she was going out, and could not tell -just when she might return, and as Katy never questioned -her acts, while Wilford was too intent upon his own miserable -thoughts as to “where Aunt Betsy could be, or what -had befallen her,” to heed any one else, no inquiries were -made, and no obstacles put in the way of her going direct -to Mrs. Banker’s, where Mark met her himself, holding -her cold hand until he led her to the fire and placed her in -a chair. He knew she would rather meet her aunt alone, -and so when he heard her step in the hall he left the -room, holding the door for Aunt Betsy, who wept like a -little child at the sight of Helen, accusing herself of being -a fool, who ought to be shut up in an insane asylum, -but persisting in saying she was going home that very -day without seeing Katy at all. “If she was here I’d like -it, but I shan’t go there, for I know Wilford don’t want -me.” Then she told Helen all she did not already know -of her trip to New York, her visit to the opera, her staying -with the Tubbses and her meeting with Mark, the best -young chap she ever saw, not even excepting Morris. “If -he was my own son he couldn’t be kinder,” she added, “and -I mistrust he hopes to be my nephew. You can’t do better; -and, if he offers, take him.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Helen’s cheeks were crimson as she waived this part of -the conversation, and wished aloud that she had come -around in the carriage, as she could thus have taken Aunt -Betsy over the city before the train would leave.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_239'>239</span>“Mark spoke of that when he heard I was going to-day,” -Aunt Betsy said; “I’ll warrant you he’ll attend to -it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Aunt Betsy was right, for when Mark and his mother -joined their guests, and learned that Aunt Betsy’s intention -was unchanged, he suggested the ride, and offered the use -of their carriage. Helen did not decline the offer, and ere -a half hour had passed, Aunt Betsy, with her satchel, umbrella, -and cap-box, was comfortably adjusted in Mrs. Banker’s -carriage with Helen beside her, while Mark bade his -coachman drive wherever Miss Lennox wished to go, taking -care to reach the train in time.</p> - -<p class='c011'>They were tearful thanks which Aunt Betsy gave to her -kind friends as she was driven away to the Bowery to say -good-bye, lest the Tubbses should “think her suddenly -stuck up.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Would you mind taking ’Tilda in? It would please her -mightily,” Aunt Betsy whispered, as they were alighting -in front of Mr. Peter Tubbs’s; and as the result of this -suggestion, the carriage, when again it emerged into Broadway, -held Mattie Tubbs, prouder than she had been in all -her life before, while the gratified mother at home felt -amply repaid for all the trouble her visitor had made her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And Helen enjoyed it, too, finding Mattie a little insipid -and tiresome, but feeling happy in the consciousness that -she was making others happy. It was a long drive they -took, and Aunt Betsy saw so much that her brain grew -giddy, and she was glad when they started for the depot, -taking Madison Square on the way, and passing Katy’s -house.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I dare say it’s all grand and smart,” Aunt Betsy said, -as she leaned out to look at it, “but I feel best at <em>hum</em>, -where they are used to me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And her face did wear a brighter look, when finally -seated in the cars, than it had before since she left Silverton.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You’ll be home in April, and maybe Katy’ll come -too,” she whispered as she kissed Helen good-bye, and shook -hands with Mattie Tubbs, charging her again never to let -the folks in Silverton know that “Betsy Barlow had been -seen at a play-house.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_240'>240</span>Slowly the cars moved away, and Helen was driven home, -leaving Mattie alone in her glory as she rolled down the -Bowery, enjoying the éclat of her position, but feeling a -little chagrined at not meeting a single acquaintance by -whom to be envied and admired.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy did not ask where Helen had been, for she was -wholly absorbed in Marian Hazelton’s letter, telling how -fast the baby improved, how pretty it was growing, and -how fond both she and Mrs. Hubbell were of it, loving it -almost as well as if it were their own.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know now it was best for it to go, but it was hard -at first,” Katy said, putting the letter away, and sighing -wearily as she missed the clasp of the little arms and touch -of the baby lips.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Several times Helen was tempted to tell her of Aunt -Betsy’s visit, but decided finally not to do so, and Katy -never knew what it was which for many days made Wilford -so nervous and uneasy, starting at every sudden ring, -going often to the window, and looking out into the street -as if expecting some one, while he grew strangely anxious -for news from Silverton, asking when Katy had heard -from home, and why she did not write. One there was, -however, who knew, and who enjoyed watching Wilford, -and guessing just how his anxiety grew as day after day -went by; and she neither came nor was heard from in any -way, for Helen did not show the letter apprising her of -Aunt Betsy’s safe arrival home, and so all in Wilford’s -mind was vague conjecture.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She <em>had</em> been in New York, as was proven by Bob Reynolds, -but where was she now, and who were those people -with her? Had they entrapped her into some snare, and -possibly murdered her? Such things were not of rare occurrence, -and Wilford actually grew thin with the uncertainty -which hung over the fate of one whom in his present -state of mind he would have warmly welcomed to his fireside, -had there been a dozen dinner parties in progress. -At last, as he sat one day in his office, with the same worried -look on his face, Mark, who had been watching him, said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“By the way, Will, how did that sheep-pasture come out, -or didn’t the client appear?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mark,” and Wilford’s voice was husky with emotion; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_241'>241</span>“you’ve stumbled upon the very thing which is tormenting -my life out of me. Aunt Betsy has never turned up or -been heard from since that night. For aught I know she -was murdered, or spirited away, and I am half distracted. -I’d give a thousand dollars to know what has become of -her.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Put down half that pile and I’ll tell you,” was Mark’s -<em>nonchalant</em> reply, while Wilford, seizing his shoulder, and -compelling him to look up, exclaimed,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You know, then? Tell me—you do know. Where is -she?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Safe in Silverton, I presume,” was the reply, and then -Mark told his story, to which Wilford listened, half incredulous, -half indignant, and a good deal relieved.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You are a splendid fellow, Mark, though I must say -you <em>meddled</em>, but I know you did not do it unselfishly. -Perhaps with Katy not won I might do the same. Yes, -on the whole, I thank you and Helen for saving me that -mortification. I feel like a new man, knowing the old -lady is safe at home, where I trust she will remain. And -that Tom, who called here yesterday, asking to be our -clerk, is the youth I saw at the opera. I thought his face -was familiar. Let him come, of course. In my gratitude -I feel like patronizing the entire Tubbs family.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And so it was this flash of gratitude for a peril escaped -which procured for young <em>Tom Tubbs</em> the situation of -clerk in the office of Cameron & Ray, the application for -such situation having been urged by the ambitious Mattie, -who felt her dignity considerably increased when she could -speak of brother Tom in company with Messrs. Cameron -and Ray.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXVIII.<br> <span class='large'>THE SEVENTH REGIMENT.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Does the reader remember the pleasant spring days when -the thunder of Fort Sumter’s bombardment came echoing -up the Northern hills and across the Western prairies, -stopping for a moment the pulses of the nation, but quickening -them again with a mighty power as from Maine to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_242'>242</span>California man after man arose to meet the misguided foe -trailing our honored flag in the dust? Nowhere, perhaps, -was the excitement so great or the feeling so strong as in -New York, when the Seventh Regiment was ordered to -Washington, its members never faltering or holding back, -but with a nerving of the will and a putting aside of self, -preparing to do their duty. Conspicuous among them was -Mark Ray, who, laughing at his mother’s fears, kissed her -livid cheek, and then with a pang remembered Helen—wondering -how she would feel, and thinking the path to -danger would be so much easier if he knew that her prayers -would go with him, shielding him from harm and bringing -him back again to the sunshine of her presence.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And before he went Mark must know this for certain, -and he chided himself for having put it off so long. True -she had been sick and confined to her room for a long -while after Aunt Betsy’s memorable visit; and when she -was able to go out, <em>Lent</em> had put a stop to her mingling -in festive scenes, so that he had seen but little of her, and -had never met her alone. But he would write that very -day. She knew, of course, that he was going. She would -say that he did well to go; and she would answer <em>yes</em> to -the question he would ask her. Mark felt sure of that; -but still the letter he wrote was eloquent with his pleadings -for her love, while he confessed his own, and asked that -she would give him the right to think of her as his affianced -bride—to know she waited for his return, and would -crown it at last with the full fruition of her priceless -love.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I meet a few of my particular friends at Mrs. Grandon’s -to-night,” he added, in conclusion. “Can I hope to -see you there, taking your presence as a token that I may -speak and tell you in words what I have so poorly -written?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This note he would not trust to the post, but deliver -himself, and thus avoid the possibility of a mistake, he -said; and half an hour later he rang the bell at No.——, -asking “if <em>Miss Lennox</em> was at home.” She was; and handing -the girl the note, Mark ran down the steps, while the -servant carried the missive to the library, where upon the -table lay other letters received that morning, and as yet -<span class='pageno' id='Page_243'>243</span>unopened; for Katy was very busy, and Helen was dressing -to go out with Juno Cameron, who had graciously -asked her to drive with her and look at a picture she had -set her heart on having.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Juno had not yet appeared; but Mark was scarcely out -of sight when she came in with the familiarity of a sister, -and entered the library to wait. Carelessly turning the -books upon the table, she stumbled upon Mark’s letter, -which, through some defect in the envelope, had become -unsealed, and lay with its edge lifted so that to peer at -its contents was a very easy matter had she been so disposed. -But Juno, who knew the handwriting—could not -at first bring herself even to touch what was intended for -her rival. But as she gazed the longing grew, until at -last she took it in her hand, turning it to the light, and -tracing distinctly the words, “My dear Helen,” while a -storm of pain and passion swept over her, mingled with -a feeling of shame that she had let herself down so -far.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It does not matter now,” the tempter whispered. “You -may as well read it and know the worst. Nobody will -suspect it,” and she was about to take the folded letter -from the envelope, intending to replace it after it was -read, when a rapid step warned her some one was coming, -and hastily thrusting the letter in her pocket, she -dropped her veil to cover her confusion, and then confronted -<em>Helen Lennox</em>, ready for the drive, and unconscious -of the wrong which could not then be righted.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Juno did not mean to keep the letter, and all that morning -she was devising measures for making restitution, -thinking once to confess the whole, but shrinking from that -as more than she could do. As they were driving home, -they met Mark Ray; but Helen, who chanced to be looking -in an opposite direction, did not see the earnest look of -scrutiny he gave her, scarcely heeding Juno, whose voice -trembled as she spoke of him to Helen and his intended -departure. Helen observed the tremor in her voice, and -pitied the girl whose agitation she fancied arose from the -fact that her lover was so soon to go where danger and -possibly death was waiting. In Helen’s heart, too, there -was a pang whenever she remembered Mark, and what had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_244'>244</span>so recently passed between them, raising hopes, which now -were wholly blasted. For he <em>was</em> Juno’s, she believed, and -the grief at his projected departure was the cause of that -young lady’s softened and even humble demeanor, as she -insisted on Helen’s stopping at her house for lunch before -going home.</p> - -<p class='c011'>To this Helen consented—Juno still revolving in her -mind how to return the letter, which grew more and more -a horror to her. It was in her pocket, she knew, for she -had felt it there when, after lunch, she went to her room -for a fresh handkerchief. She would accompany Helen -home,—would manage to slip into the library alone, and -put it partly under a book, so that it would appear to be -hidden, and thus account for its not having been seen -before. This seemed a very clever plan, and with her -spirits quite elated, Juno drove round with Helen, finding -no one in the parlor below, and felicitating herself upon -the fact that Helen left her alone while she ran up to Katy.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Now is my time,” she thought, stealing noiselessly into -the library and feeling for the letter.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But <em>it was not there</em>, and no amount of search, no shaking -of handkerchiefs, or turning of pocket inside out could -avail to find it. The letter was lost, and in the utmost -consternation Juno returned to the parlor, appearing so -abstracted as scarcely to be civil when Katy came down to -see her; asking if she was going that night to Sybil Grandon’s, -and talking of the dreadful war, which she hoped -would not be a war after all. Juno was too wretched to -talk, and after a few moments she started for home, hunting -in her own room and through the halls, but failing in -her search, and finally giving it up, with the consoling -reflection that were it found in the street, no suspicion -could fasten on her; and as fear of detection, rather than -contrition for the sin, had been the cause of her distress, -she grew comparatively calm, save when her conscience -made itself heard and admonished confession as the only -reparation which was now in her power. But Juno could -not confess, and all that day she was absent-minded and -silent, while her mother watched her closely, wondering -what connection, if any, there was between her burning -cheeks and the letter she had found upon the floor in her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_245'>245</span>daughter’s room just after she had left it; the letter, at -whose contents she had glanced, shutting her lips firmly -together, as he saw that her plans had failed, and finally -putting the document away, where there was less hope of -its ever finding its rightful owner, than if it had remained -with Juno. Had Mrs. Cameron supposed that Helen had -already seen it, she would have returned it at once; but of -this she had her doubts, after learning that “Miss Lennox -did not go up stairs at all.” Juno, then, must have been -the delinquent; and the mother resolved to keep the letter -till some inquiry was made for it at least.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And so Helen did not guess how anxiously the young -man was anticipating the interview at Sybil Grandon’s, -scarcely doubting that she would be there, and fancying -just the expression of her eyes when they first met his. -Alas for Mark, alas for Helen, that both should be so -cruelly deceived. Had the latter known of the loving words -sent from the true heart which longed for some word of -hers to lighten the long march and beguile the tedious days -of absence, she would not have said to Katy, when asked -if she was going to Mrs. Grandon’s, “Oh, no; please don’t -urge me. I would so much rather stay at home.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy would not insist, and so went alone with Wilford -to the entertainment, given to a few young men who seemed -as heroes then, when the full meaning of that word had -not been exemplified, as it has been since in the life so -cheerfully laid down, and the heart’s blood poured so freely, -by the tens of thousands who have won a martyr’s and a -hero’s name. With a feeling of chill despair, Mark listened -while Katy explained to Mrs. Grandon, that her sister had -fully intended coming in the morning, but had suddenly -changed her mind and begged to be excused.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am sorry, and so I am sure is Mr. Ray,” Sybil said, -turning lightly to Mark, whose white face froze the gay -laugh on her lips and made her try to shield him from -observation until he had time to recover himself and appear -as usual.</p> - -<p class='c011'>How Mark blessed Sybil Grandon for that thoughtful -kindness, and how wildly the blood throbbed through his -veins as he thought “She would not come. She does not -care. I have deceived myself in hoping that she did, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_246'>246</span>now welcome <em>war</em>, welcome anything which shall help me -to forget.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mark was very wretched, and his wretchedness showed -itself upon his face, making more than one rally him for -what they termed <em>fear</em>, while they tried to reassure him -by saying that to the Seventh there could be no danger -after Baltimore was safely passed. This was more than -Mark could bear, and at an early hour he left the house, -bidding Katy good-bye in the hall, and telling her he -probably should not see her again, as he would not have -time to call.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not call to say good-bye to Helen,” Katy exclaimed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Helen will not care,” was Mark’s reply, as he hurried -away into the darkness of the night, more welcome in -his present state of mind than the gay scene he had -left.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And this was <em>all</em> Katy had to carry Helen, who had expected -to see Mark once more, to bless him as a sister might -bless a brother, speaking to him words of cheer and bidding -him go on to where duty led. But he was not coming, and -she only saw him from the carriage window, as with proud -step and head erect, he passed with his regiment through -the densely crowded streets, where the loud hurrahs of the -multitude, which no man could number, told how terribly -in earnest the great city was, and how its heart was with -that gallant band, their pet, and pride, sent forth on a -mission such as it had never had before. But Mark did -not see Helen, and only his mother’s face as it looked -when it said, “God bless my boy,” was clear before his -eyes as he moved on through Broadway, and down Cortlandt -street, until the ferry-boat received him, and the -crowd began to disperse.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Now that Mark was gone, Mrs. Banker turned intuitively -to Helen, finding greater comfort in her quiet sympathy -than in the more wordy condolence offered her by Juno, -who, as she heard nothing from <em>the letter</em>, began to lose her -fears of detection, and even suffer her friends to rally her -upon the absence of Mark Ray, and the anxiety she must -feel on his account. Moments there were, however, when -thoughts of the stolen letter brought a pang, while Helen’s -face was a continual reproach, and she was glad when, towards -<span class='pageno' id='Page_247'>247</span>the first of May, her rival left New York for Silverton, -where, as the spring and summer work came on, -her services were needed.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXIX.<br> <span class='large'>KATY GOES TO SILVERTON.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>A summer day in Silverton—a soft, bright August day, -when the early rare-ripes by the well were turning their -red cheeks to the sun, and the flowers in the garden were -lifting their heads proudly, and nodding to each other as -if they knew the secret which made that day so bright -above all others. Old Whitey, by the hitching-post, was -munching at his oats and glancing occasionally at the covered -buggy standing on the green sward, fresh and clean -as water from the pond could make it; the harness, lying -upon a rock, where Katy used to feed the sheep with salt, -and the whip standing upright in its socket, were waiting -for the deacon, who was donning his best suit of clothes, -even to a stiff shirt collar which almost cut his ears, his -face shining with anticipations which he knew would be -realized. Katy was really coming home, and in proof -thereof there were behind the house and barn piles of rubbish, -lath and plaster, mouldy paper and broken bricks, the -tokens and remains of the repairing process, which for so -long a time had made the farm-house a scene of dire confusion, -driving its inmates nearly distracted, except when -they remembered for whose sake they endured so much, -inhaling clouds of lime, stepping over heaps of mortar, -tearing their dress skirts on sundry nails projecting from -every conceivable quarter, and wondering the while if the -masons ever would finish or the carpenters be gone.</p> - -<p class='c011'>As a condition on which Katy might be permitted to -come home, Wilford had stipulated an improvement in the -interior arrangement of the house, offering to bear the expense -even to the furnishing of the rooms. To this the -family demurred at first, not liking Wilford’s dictatorial -manner, nor his insinuation that their home was not good -enough for his wife. But Helen turned the tide, appreciating -<span class='pageno' id='Page_248'>248</span>Wilford’s feelings better than the others could do, -and urging a compliance with his request.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Anything to get Katy home,” she said, and so the -chimney was torn away, a window was cut here and an -addition made there, until the house was really improved -with its pleasant, modern parlor and the large airy bedroom, -with bathing-room attached, the whole the idea of -Wilford, who graciously deigned to come out once or twice -from New London, where he was spending a few weeks, -to superintend the work and suggest how it should be done.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The furniture, too, which he sent on from New York, -was perfect in its kind, and suitable in every respect and -Helen enjoyed the settling very much, and when it was -finished it was hard telling which was the more pleased, -she or good Aunt Betsy, who, having confessed in a general -kind of way at a sewing society, that she did go to a play-house, -and was not so very sorry either, except as the example -might do harm, had nothing to fear from New -York, and was proportionably happy. At least she would -have been if Morris had not seemed so <em>off</em>, as she expressed -it, taking but little interest in the preparations and evincing -no pleasure at Katy’s expected visit. He had been -polite to Wilford, had kept him at Linwood, taking him -to and from the depot, but even Wilford had thought him -changed, telling Katy how very sober and grave he had -become, rarely smiling, and not seeming to care to talk -unless it were about his profession or on some religious -topic. And Morris <em>was</em> greatly changed. The wound -which in most hearts would have healed by this time, -had grown deeper with each succeeding year, while -from all he heard he felt sure that Katy’s marriage -was a sad mistake, wishing sometimes that he had spoken, -and so perhaps have saved her from the life in which she -could not be wholly free. “She would be happier with -me,” he had said, with a sad smile to Helen, when she -told him of some things which she had not mentioned elsewhere, -and there were great tears in Morris’s eyes, when -Helen spoke of Katy’s distress, and the look which came -into her face when baby was taken away. Times there were -when the silent Doctor, living alone at Linwood, felt that -his grief was too great to bear. But the deep waters were -<span class='pageno' id='Page_249'>249</span>always forded safely, and Morris’s faith in God prevailed, -so that only a dull heavy pain remained, with the consciousness -that it was no sin to remember Katy as she was -remembered now. Oh how he longed to see her, and yet -how he dreaded it, lest poor weak human flesh should -prove inadequate to the sight. But she was coming home; -Providence had ordered that and he accepted it, looking -eagerly for the time, but repressing his eagerness, so that -not even Helen suspected how impatient he was for the day -of her return. Four weeks she had been at the Pequot -House in New London, occupying a little cottage and luxuriating -in the joy of having her child with her almost -every day. Country air and country nursing had wrought -wonders in the baby, which had grown so beautiful and -bright that it was no longer in Wilford’s way save as it -took too much of Katy’s time, and made her care less for -the gay crowd at the hotel.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Marian was working at her trade, and never came to the -hotel except one day when Wilford was in New York, but -that day sufficed for Katy to know that after herself it was -Marian whom baby loved the best—Marian, who cared for -it even more than Mrs. Hubbell. And Katy was glad -to have it so, especially after Wilford and his mother decided -that she must leave the child in New London while -she made the visit to Silverton.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford did not like her taking so much care of it as -she was inclined to do. It had grown too heavy for her -to lift; it was better with Mrs. Hubbell, he said, and so -to the inmates of the farm-house Katy wrote that baby -was not coming.</p> - -<p class='c011'>They were bitterly disappointed, for Katy’s baby had -been anticipated quite as much as Katy herself, and Aunt -Betsy had brought from the wood-shed chamber a cradle -which nearly forty years before had rocked the deacon’s -only child, the little boy, who died just as he had learned -to lisp his mother’s name. As a memento of those days -the cradle had been kept, Katy using it sometimes for her -kittens and her dolls, until she grew too old for that, when -it was put away beneath the eaves whence Aunt Betsy -dragged it, scouring it with soap and sand, until it was -white as snow. But it would not be needed, and with a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_250'>250</span>sigh the old lady carried it back, thinking “things had -come to a pretty pass when a woman who could dance and -carouse till twelve o’clock at night was too weakly to take -care of her child,” and feeling a very little awe of Katy -who must have grown so fine a lady.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But all this passed away as the time drew near when -Katy was to come, and no one seemed happier than Aunt -Betsy on the morning when Uncle Ephraim drove from the -door, setting old Whitey into a canter, which, by the time -the “race” was reached, had become a rapid trot, the old -man holding up his reins and looking proudly at the oat-fed -animal, speeding along so fast.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He did not have long to wait this time, for the train soon -came rolling across the meadow, and while his head was -turned towards the car where he fancied she might be, a -pair of arms was thrown impetuously round his neck, and -a little figure, standing on tiptoe, almost pulled him down -in its attempts to kiss him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Uncle Eph! oh, Uncle Eph, I’ve come! I’m here!” -a young voice cried; but the words the deacon would have -spoken were smothered by the kisses pressed upon his lips, -kisses which only came to an end when a voice said rather -reprovingly, “There, Katy, that will do. You have almost -strangled him.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford had not been expected, and the expression of the -deacon’s face was not a very cordial greeting to the young -man who hastened to explain that he was going directly -on to Boston. In his presence the deacon was not quite -natural, but he lifted in his arms his “little Katy-did,” -and looked straight into her face, where there were as yet -no real lines of care, only shadows, which told that in some -respects she was not the same Katy he had parted with two -years before. There was a good deal of the <em>city</em> about her -dress and style; and the deacon felt a little overawed at -first; but this wore off as, on their way to the farm-house, -she talked to him in her old, loving manner, and asked -questions about the people he supposed she had forgotten, -nodding to everybody she met, whether she knew them or -not, and at last, as the old house came in sight, hiding her -face in a gush of happy tears upon his neck. Scarcely -waiting for old Whitey to stop, but with one leap clearing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_251'>251</span>the wheel, she threw herself into the midst of the women -waiting on the door step to meet her. It was a joyful -meeting, and when the first excitement was over, Katy inspected -the improvements, praising them all and congratulating -herself upon the nice time she was to have.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You don’t know what a luxury it is to feel that I can -rest,” she said to Helen.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Didn’t you rest at New London?” Helen asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, some,” Katy replied; “but there were dances every -night, or sails upon the bay, and I had to go, for many of -our friends were there, and Wilford was not willing for -me to be quiet.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This, then, was the reason why Katy came home so -weary and pale, and craving so much the rest she had not -had in more than two years. But she would get it now, -and before the first dinner was eaten some of her old color -came stealing back to her cheeks, and her eyes began to -dance just as they used to do, while her merry voice rang -out in silvery peals at Aunt Betsy’s quaint remarks, which -struck her so forcibly from not having heard them for so -long a time. Freed from the restraint of her husband’s -presence, she came back at once to what she was when a -young, careless girl she sat upon the door-steps and curled -the dandelion stalks. She did not do this now, for there -were none to curl; but she strung upon a thread the delicate -petals of the phlox growing by the door, and then -bound it as a crown about the head of her mother, who -could not quite recognize her Katy in the elegant Mrs. -Wilford Cameron, with rustling silk, and diamonds flashing -on her hands every time they moved. But when she -saw her racing with the old brown goat and its little kid -out in the apple orchard, her head uncovered, and her -bright curls blowing about her face, the feeling -disappeared, and she felt that Katy had indeed come back -again.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy had inquired for Morris immediately after her arrival, -but in her excitement she had forgotten him again, -until tea was over, when, just as she had done on the day -of her return from Canandaigua, she took her hat and -started on the well-worn path toward Linwood. Airily -she tripped along, her light plaid silk gleaming through the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_252'>252</span>deep green of the trees and revealing her coming to the -tired man sitting upon a little rustic seat, beneath a chestnut -tree, where he once had sat with Katy, and extracted a -<em>cruel</em> sliver from her hand, kissing the place to make it -well as she told him to. She was a child then, a little -girl of twelve, and he was twenty, but the sight of her -pure face lifted confidingly to his had stirred his heart as -no other face had stirred it since, making him look forward -to a time when the hand he kissed would be his own, -and his the fairy form he watched so carefully as it expanded -day by day into the perfect woman. He was thinking -of that time now, and how differently it had all turned -out, when he heard the bounding step and saw her coming -toward him, swinging her hat in childish abandon, and -warbling a song she had learned from him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Morris, oh, Morris!” she cried, as he ran eagerly forward; -“I am so glad to see you. It seems so nice to be -with you once more here in the dear old woods. Don’t -get up—please don’t get up,” she continued, as he started -to rise.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was standing before him, a hand on either side of -his face, into which she was looking quite as wistfully as -he was regarding her. Something she missed in his manner, -which troubled her; and thinking she knew what it -was she said to him, “Why don’t you kiss me, Morris? -You used to. Ain’t you glad to see me?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, very glad,” he answered, and drawing her down -beside him, he kissed her twice, but so gravely, that Katy -was not satisfied at all, and tears gathered in her eyes as -she tried to think what ailed Morris.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He was very thin, and there were a few white hairs -about his temples, so that, though four years younger than -her husband, he seemed to her much older, quite grandfatherly -in fact, and this accounted for the liberties she -took, asking what was the matter, and trying to make him -<em>like her again</em>, by assuring him that she was not as vain -and foolish as he might suppose from what Helen had -probably told him of her life since leaving Silverton. “I -do not like it at all,” she said. “I am in it, and must -conform; but, oh Morris! you don’t know how much happier -I should be if Wilford were just like you, and lived -<span class='pageno' id='Page_253'>253</span>at Linwood instead of New York. I should be so happy -here with baby all the time.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was well she spoke that name, for Morris could not -have borne much more; but the mention of her child -quieted him at once, so that he could calmly tell her she -<em>was</em> the same to him she always had been, while with his -next breath he asked, “Where is your baby, Katy?” adding -with a smile, “I can remember when you were a baby, -and I held you in my arms.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Can you really?” Katy said: and as if that remembrance -made him older than the hills, she nestled her curly -head against his shoulder, while she told him of her bright-eyed -darling, and as she talked, the mother-love which -spread itself over her girlish face made it more beautiful -than anything Morris had ever seen.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Surely an angel’s countenance cannot be fairer, purer -than hers,” he thought, as she talked of the only thing -which had a power to separate her from him, making her -seem as a friend, or at most as a beloved sister.</p> - -<p class='c011'>A long time they talked together, and the sun was setting -ere Morris rose, suggesting that she go home, as the night -dew would soon be falling.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And you are not as strong as you once were,” he added, -pulling her shawl around her shoulders with careful solicitude, -and thinking how slender she had become.</p> - -<p class='c011'>From the back parlor Helen saw them coming up the -path, detecting the changed expression of Morris’s face, -and feeling a pang of fear when, as he left them after -nine o’clock, she heard her mother say that he had not -appeared so natural since Katy went away as he had done -that night. Knowing what she did, Helen trembled for -Morris, with this terrible temptation before him, and Morris -trembled for himself as he went back the lonely path, -and stopped again beneath the chestnut tree where he had -so lately sat with Katy. There was a great fear at his -heart, and it found utterance in words as kneeling by the -rustic bench with only the lonely night around him and -the green boughs over head, he asked that he might be -kept from sin, both in thought and deed, and be to Katy -Cameron just what she took him for, her friend and elder -brother. And God, who knew the sincerity of the heart -<span class='pageno' id='Page_254'>254</span>thus pleading before him, heard and answered the prayer, -so that after that first night of trial Morris could look -on Katy without a wish that she were otherwise than Wilford -Cameron’s wife and the mother of his child. He -was happier because of her being at the farm-house, -though he did not go there one half as often as she came -to him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Those September days were happy ones to Katy, who became -a child again—a petted, spoiled child, whom every one -caressed and suffered to have her way. To Uncle Ephraim -it was as if some bright angel had suddenly dropped into -his path, and flooded it with sunshine. He was so glad -to have again his “Katy-did,” who went with him to the -fields, waiting patiently till his work was done, and telling -him of all the wondrous things she saw abroad, but speaking -little of her city life. That was something she did not -care to talk about, and but for Wilford’s letters, and the -frequent mention of baby, the deacon could easily have -imagined that Katy had never left him. But these were -barriers between the old life and the present; these were -the insignia of <em>Mrs. Wilford Cameron</em>, who was watched -and envied by the curious Silvertonians, and pronounced -charming by them all. Still there was one drawback to -Katy’s happiness. She missed her child, mourning for it -so much that her family, quite as anxious as herself to see -it, suggested her sending for it. It would surely take -no harm with them, and Marian would come with it, if -Mrs. Hubbell could not. To this plan Katy listened more -willingly from the fact that Wilford had gone West, and -the greater the distance between them the more she dared -to do. And so Marian Hazelton was one day startled at -the sudden appearance at the cottage of Katy, who had -come to take her and baby to Silverton.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was no resisting the vehemence of Katy’s arguments, -and before the next day’s sun-setting, the farm-house, -usually so quiet and orderly, had been turned into one -general nursery, where Baby Cameron reigned supreme, -screaming with delight at the <em>tin</em> ware which Aunt Betsy -brought out, from the cake-cutter to the dipper, the little -creature beating a noisy tattoo upon the latter with an iron -spoon, and then for diversion burying its fat dimpled hands -<span class='pageno' id='Page_255'>255</span>in Uncle Ephraim’s long white hair, for the old man went -down upon all fours to do his great-grand-niece homage.</p> - -<p class='c011'>That night Morris came up, stopping suddenly as a loud -baby laugh reached him, even across the orchard, and leaning -for a moment against the wall, while he tried to prepare -himself for the shock it would be to see Katy’s child, -and hold it in his arms, as he knew he must, or the mother -be aggrieved.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He had supposed it was pretty, but he was not prepared -for the beautiful little cherub which in its short white -dress, with its soft curls of golden brown clustering about -its head, stood holding to a chair, pushing it occasionally, -and venturing now and then to take a step, while its infantile -laugh mingled with the screams of its delighted -auditors, watching it with so much interest.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was one great, bitter, burning pang, and then, -folding his arms composedly upon the window sill, Dr. -Grant stood looking in upon the occupants of the room, -whistling at last to baby, as he was accustomed to whistle -to the children of his patients.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, Morris,” Katy cried, “Baby can almost walk, -Marian has taken so much pains, and she can say ‘papa.’ -Isn’t she a beauty?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Baby had turned her head by this time, her ear caught -by the whistle and her eye arrested by something in Morris -which fascinated her gaze. Perhaps she thought of Wilford, -of whom she had been very fond, for she pushed her -chair towards him and then held up her fat arms for him -to take her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Never was mother prouder than Katy during the first few -days succeeding baby’s arrival, while the family seemed to -tread on air, so swiftly the time went by with that active -little life in their midst, stirring them up so constantly, -putting to rout all their rules of order and keeping their -house in a state of delightful confusion. It was wonderful -how rapidly the child improved with so many teachers, -learning to lisp its mother’s name and taught by her, attempting -to say “Doctor.” From the very first the child -took to Morris, crying after him whenever he went away, -and hailing his arrival with a crow of joy and an eager -attempt to reach him.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_256'>256</span>“It was altogether too forward for this world,” Aunt -Betsy often said, shaking her head ominously, but not -really meaning what she predicted, even when for a few -days it did not seem as bright as usual, but lay quietly -in Katy’s lap, a blue look about the mouth and a -flush upon its cheeks, which neither Morris nor Marian -liked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>More accustomed to children than the other members of -the family, they both watched it closely, Morris coming -over twice one day, and the last time he came regarding -Katy with a look as if he would fain ward off -from her some evil which he feared.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What is it, Morris?” she asked. “Is baby going to -be very sick?” and a great crushing fear came upon her -as she waited for his answer.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I hope not,” he said; “I cannot tell as yet; the symptoms -are like cholera infantum, of which I have several -cases, but if taken in time I apprehend no danger.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a low shriek and baby opened its heavy lids -and moaned, while Helen came at once to Katy, who was -holding her hand upon her heart as if the pain had entered -there. To Marian it was no news, for ever since the early -morning she had suspected the nature of the disease stealing -over the little child. All night the light burned in -the farm-house, where there were anxious, troubled faces, -Katy bending constantly over her darling, and even amid -her terrible anxiety, dreading Wilford’s displeasure when -he should hear what she had done and its possible result. -She did not believe as yet that her child would die; but -she suffered acutely, watching for the early dawn when -Morris had said he would be there, and when at last he -came, begging of him to leave his other patients and care -only for baby.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Would that be right?” Morris asked, and Katy blushed -for her selfishness when she heard how many were sick and -dying around them. “I will spend every leisure moment -here,” he said, leaving his directions with Marian and then -hurrying away without a word of hope for the child, which -grew worse so fast that when the night shut down again it -lay upon the pillow, its blue eyes closed and its head thrown -back, while its sad moanings could only be hushed by -<span class='pageno' id='Page_257'>257</span>carrying it in one’s arms about the room, a task which -Katy could not do.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She had tried it at first, refusing all their offers with -the reply, “Baby is mine, and shall I not carry her?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But the feeble strength gave out, the limbs began to -totter, and staggering backward she cried, “Somebody must -take her.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was Marian who went forward, Marian, whose face -was a puzzle as she took the infant in her stronger arms, -her stony eyes, which had not wept as yet, fastening themselves -upon the face of Wilford Cameron’s child with a -look which seemed to say, “Retribution, retribution.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But only when she remembered the father, now so proud -of his daughter, was that word in her heart. She could -not harbor it when she glanced at the mother, and her -lips moved in earnest prayer that, if possible, God would -not leave her so desolate. An hour later and Morris came, -relieving Marian of her burden, which he carried in his own -arms, while he strove to comfort Katy, who, crouching by -the empty crib, was sitting motionless in a kind of dumb -despair, all hope crushed out by his answer to her entreaties -that he would tell her the truth, and keep nothing -back.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I think your baby will die,” he said to her very gently, -pausing a moment in awe of the white face, whose expression -terrified him, it was so full of agony.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Bowing her head upon her hands, poor Katy whispered -sadly, “God must not take my baby. Oh, Morris, pray -that he will not. He will hear and answer you; I have -been so bad I cannot pray, but I am not going to be bad -again. If he will let me keep my darling I will begin a -new life. I <em>will</em> try to serve him. Dear Lord, hear and -answer, and not let baby die.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was praying herself now, and Morris’s broad chest -heaved as he glanced at her kneeling figure, and then at -the death-like face upon the pillow, with the pinched look -about the nose and lips, which to his practiced eye was a -harbinger of death.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Its father should be here,” he thought, and when Katy -lifted up her head again he asked if she was sure her husband -had not yet returned from Minnesota.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_258'>258</span>“Yes, sure—that is, I think he has not,” was Katy’s -answer, a chill creeping over her at the thought of meeting -Wilford, and giving him his daughter dead.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I shall telegraph in the morning at all events,” Morris -continued, “and if he is not in New York, it will be forwarded.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, that will be best,” was the reply, spoken so mournfully -that Morris stopped in front of Katy, and tried to -reason with her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Katy would not listen, and only answered that <em>he</em> -did not know, he could not feel, he never had been tried.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Perhaps not,” Morris said; “but Heaven is my witness, -Katy, that if I could save you this pain by giving up -my life for baby’s I would do it willingly; but God does -not give us our choice. He knoweth what is best, and baby -is better with Him than us.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>For a moment Katy was silent; then, as a new idea took -possession of her mind, she sprang to Morris’s side and -seizing his arm, demanded, “Can an unbaptized child be -saved?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We nowhere read that baptism is a saving ordinance,” -was Morris’s answer; while Katy continued, “but <em>do</em> you -believe they will be saved?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, I do,” was the decided response, which, however, -did not ease Katy’s mind, and she moaned on, “A child of -heathen parents may, but <em>I</em> knew better. I knew it was -my duty to give the child to God, and for a foolish fancy -withheld the gift until it is too late, and God will take it -without the mark upon its forehead, the water on its brow. -Oh, baby, baby, if she should be lost—<em>no name, no mark, -no baptismal sign</em>.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not water, but the blood of Jesus cleanseth from all -sin,” Morris said, “and as sure as he died so sure this -little one is safe. Besides, there may be time for the baptism -yet—that is, to-morrow. Baby will not die to-night, -and if you like, it still shall have a name.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Eagerly Katy seized upon that idea, thinking more of the -sign, the water, than the <em>name</em>, which scarcely occupied -her thoughts at all. It did not matter what the child was -called, so that it became one of the little ones in glory, and -with a calmer, quieter demeanor than she had shown that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_259'>259</span>day, she saw Morris depart at a late hour; and then turning -to the child which Uncle Ephraim was holding, kissed it -lovingly, whispering as she did so, “Baby shall be baptized—baby -shall have the sign.”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXX.<br> <span class='large'>LITTLE GENEVRA.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Morris had telegraphed to New York, receiving in reply -that Wilford was hourly expected home, and would at once -hasten on to Silverton. The clergyman, Mr. Kelly, had -also been seen, but owing to a funeral which would take -him out of town, he could not be at the farm-house until -five in the afternoon, when, if the child still lived, he -would be glad to officiate as requested. All this Morris -had communicated to Katy, who listened in a kind of -stupor, gasping for breath, when she heard that Wilford -would soon be there, and moaning “that will be too late,” -when told that the baptism could not take place till night. -Then kneeling by the crib where the child was lying, she -fastened her great, sad blue eyes upon the pallid face with -an earnestness as if thus she would hold till nightfall the -life flickering so faintly and seeming so nearly finished. -The wailings had ceased, and they no longer carried it in -their arms, but had placed it in its crib, where it lay perfectly -still, save as its eyes occasionally unclosed and turned -wistfully towards the cups, where it knew was something -which quenched its raging thirst. Once indeed, as the -hours crept on to noon and Katy bent over it so that her -curls swept its face, it seemed to know her, and the little -wasted hand was uplifted and rested on her cheek with -the same caressing motion it had been wont to use in -health. Then hope whispered that it might live, and with -a great cry of joy Katy sobbed, “She knows me, Morris—mother, -see; she knows me. Maybe she will live!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But the dull stupor which succeeded swept all hope away, -and again Katy resumed her post, watching first her dying -child, and then the long hands of the clock which crept -on so slowly, pointing to only two when she thought it -<span class='pageno' id='Page_260'>260</span>must be five. Would that hour never come, or coming, -would it find baby there? None could answer that last -question—they could only wait and pray; and as they -waited the warm September sun neared the western sky -till its yellow beams came stealing through the window and -across the floor to where Katy sat watching its onward -progress, and looking sometimes out upon the hills where -the purplish autumnal haze was lying just as she once loved -to see it. But she did not heed it now, nor care how -bright the day with the flitting shadows dancing on the -grass, the tall flowers growing by the door, and old Whitey -standing by the gate, his head stretched towards the house -in a kind of dreamy, listening attitude, as if he, too, knew -of the great sorrow hastening on so fast. The others saw -all this, and it made their hearts ache more as they thought -of the beautiful little child going from their midst when -they wished so much to keep her. Katy had only one idea, -and that was of the child, growing very restless now, and -throwing up its arms as if in pain. It was striking five, -and with each stroke the dying baby moaned, while Katy -strained her ear to catch the sound of horses’ hoofs hurrying -up the road. The clergyman had come and the inmates -of the house gathered round in silence, while he -made ready to receive the child into Christ’s flock.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mrs. Lennox had questioned Helen about the name, and -Helen had answered, “Katy knows, I presume. It does -not matter,” but no one had spoken directly to Katy, who -had scarcely given it a thought, caring more for the rite -she had deferred so long.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He must hasten,” she said to Morris, her eyes fixed -upon the panting child she had lifted to her own lap, and -thus adjured the clergyman failed to make the usual inquiry -concerning the name he was to give.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Calm and white as a marble statue, Marian Hazelton -glided to the back of Katy’s chair, and pressing both -her hands upon it, leaned over Katy so that her eyes, -too, were fixed upon the little face, from which they never -turned but once, and that when the clergyman’s voice was -heard asking for a <em>name</em>. There was an instant’s silence, -and Katy’s lips began to move, when one of Marian’s -hands was laid upon her head, while the other took in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_261'>261</span>its own the limp, white baby fingers, and Marian’s voice -was very steady in its tone as it said, “<span class='sc'>Genevra</span>.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, Genevra,” Katy whispered, and the solemn -words were heard, “<em>Genevra</em>, I baptize thee in the name -of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Softly the baptismal waters fell upon the pale forehead, -and at their touch the little Genevra’s eyes unclosed, the -waxen fingers withdrew themselves from Marian’s grasp, -and again sought the mother’s cheek, resting there for an -instant; while a smile broke around the baby’s lips, which -tried to say “Mam-ma.” Then the hand fell back, down -upon Marian’s, the soft eyes closed, the limbs grew rigid, -the shadow of death grew deeper, and while the prayer -was said, and Marian’s tears fell with Katy’s upon the -brow where the baptismal waters were not dried, the -angel came, and when the prayer was ended, Morris, -who knew what the rest did not, took the lifeless form -from Katy’s lap, and whispered to her gently, “Katy, -your baby is dead!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>An hour later, and the sweet little creature, which had -been a sunbeam in that house for a few happy days, lay -upon the bed where Katy said it must be laid; its form -shrouded in the christening robe which grandma Cameron -had bought, flowers upon its pillow, flowers upon its -bosom, flowers in its hands, which Marian had put there; -for Marian’s was the mind which thought of everything -concerning the dead child; and Helen, as she watched -her, wondered at the mighty love which showed itself in -every lineament of her face, the blue veins swelling in -her forehead, her eyes bloodshot, and her lips shut firmly -together, as if it were by mere strength of will that she -kept back the scalding tears as she dressed the little -<em>Genevra</em>. They spoke of that name in the kitchen when -the first great shock was over, and Helen explained why -it had been Katy’s choice.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was Morris’s task to comfort poor, stricken Katy, -telling her of the blessed Saviour who loved the little -children while here on the earth, and to whom her darling -had surely gone.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Safe in His arms, it would not come back if it could,” -he said, “and neither would you have it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_262'>262</span>But Katy was the mother, the human love could not -so soon submit, but went out after the lost one with a -piteous, agonizing wail.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, I want my baby back. I know she is safe, but I -want her back. She was my life—all I had to love,” -Katy moaned, rocking to and fro in this her first hour of -bereavement, “and Wilford will blame me so much for -bringing my baby here to die. He will say it was my -fault; and that I can’t bear. I know I killed my baby; -but I did not mean to. I would give my life for hers, if -like her I was ready,” and into Katy’s face there came a -look of fear which Morris failed to understand, not knowing -Wilford as well as Katy knew him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>At nine o’clock next day there came a telegram. Wilford -had reached New York and would be in Silverton -that afternoon, accompanied by Bell. At this last Marian -Hazelton caught as an excuse for what she intended doing. -She could not remain there after Wilford came, nor -was it necessary. Her task was done, or would be when -she had finished the wreath and cross of flowers she was -making for the coffin. Laying them on baby’s pillow, -Marian went in quest of Helen, to whom she explained -that as Bell Cameron was coming, and the house would -be full, she had decided upon going to West Silverton, as -she wished to see the old lady with whom she once boarded, -and who had been so kind to her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I might stay,” she added, as Helen began to protest, -“but you do not need me. I have done all -I can, and would rather go where I can be quiet for a -little.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>To this last argument there could be no demur, and -so the same carriage which at ten o’clock went for Wilford -Cameron carried Marian Hazelton to the village -where she preferred being left.</p> - -<hr class='c014'> - -<p class='c011'>In much anxiety and distress Wilford Cameron read -the telegram announcing baby’s illness.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“At Silverton!” he said. “How can that be when -the child was at New London?” and he glanced again -at the words:</p> - -<p class='c005'><span class='pageno' id='Page_263'>263</span>“Your child is dying at Silverton. Come at once. -<span class='sc'>M. Grant</span>”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There could be no mistake, and Wilford’s face grew -dark, for he guessed the truth, censuring Katy much, -but censuring her family more. They of course had -encouraged her in the plan of taking her child from New -London, where it was doing so well, and this was the -result. Wilford was proud of his daughter now, and -during the few weeks he had been with it, the little thing -had found a strong place in his love. Many times he -had thought of it during his journey West, indulging -in bright anticipations of the coming winter, when he -would have it home again. It would not be in his way -now. On the contrary, it would add much to his luxurious -home, and the young father’s heart bounded with -thoughts of the beautiful baby as he had last seen it, -crowing its good-bye to him and trying to lisp his name, -its sweet voice haunting him for weeks, and making him -a softer, better man, who did not frown impatiently upon -the little children in the cars, but who took notice of them -all, even laying his hand once on a little curly head which -reminded him of baby’s.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Alas for him! he little dreamed of the great shock in -store for him. The child was undoubtedly very sick, -he said, but that it could die was not possible; and so, -though he made ready to hasten to it, he did not withhold -his opinion of the rashness which had brought it -to such peril.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Had Katy obeyed <em>me</em> it would not have happened,” -he said, pacing up and down the parlor and preparing -to say more, when Bell came to Katy’s aid, and lighting -upon him, asked what he meant by blaming his wife so -much.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“For my part,” she said, “I think there has been too -much fault-finding and dictation from the very day of -the child’s birth till now, and if God takes it, I shall -think it a judgment upon you. First you were vexed -with Katy because it was not a boy, as if she were to -blame; then you did not like it because it was not more -promising and fair; next it was in your way, and so you -<span class='pageno' id='Page_264'>264</span>sent it off, never considering Katy any more than if she -were a mere automaton. Then you must needs forbid -her taking it home to her own family, as if they had no -interest in it. I tell you, Will, it is not <em>all</em> Cameron—there -is some Barlow blood in its veins—Aunt Betsy -Barlow’s, too, and you cannot wash it out. Katy had a -right to take her own child where she pleased, and you -are not a man if you censure her for it, as I see in your -eyes you mean to do. Suppose it had stayed in New -London and been struck with lightning—<em>you</em> would -have been to blame, of course, according to your own -view of things.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was too much truth in Bell’s remarks for Wilford -to retort, even had he been disposed, and he contented -himself with a haughty toss of his head as she left the -room to get herself in readiness for the journey she insisted -upon taking. Wilford was glad she was going, as her -presence at Silverton would relieve him of the awkward -embarrassment he always felt when there; and magnanimously -forgiving her for the plainness of her speech, he -was the most attentive of brothers until Silverton was -reached and he found Dr. Grant awaiting for him. Something -in his face, as he came forward to meet them, startled -both Wilford and Bell, the latter of whom asked quickly,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is the baby better?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Baby is dead,” was the brief reply, and Wilford staggered -back against the door-post, where he leaned a -moment for support in that first great shock for which he -was not prepared.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Upon the doorstep Bell sat down, crying quietly, for -she had loved the child, and she listened anxiously while -Morris repeated the particulars of its illness and then -spoke of Katy’s reproaching herself so bitterly for having -brought it from New London. “She seems entirely -crushed,” he continued, when they were driving towards -the farm-house. “For a few hours I trembled for her -reason, while the fear that you might reproach her added -much to the poignancy of her grief.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Morris said this very calmly, as if it were not what he -had all the while intended saying, and his eye turned towards -Wilford, whose lips were compressed with the emotion -<span class='pageno' id='Page_265'>265</span>he was trying to control. It was Bell who spoke first, -Bell who said impulsively, “Poor Katy, I knew she would -feel so, but it is unnecessary, for none but a <em>savage</em> would -reproach her now, even if she were in fault.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Morris blessed Bell Cameron in his heart, knowing how -much influence her words would have upon her brother, -who brushed away the first tear he had shed, and tried -to say that “of course she was not to blame.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>They were in sight of the farm-house now, and Bell, -with her city ideas, was looking curiously at it, mentally -pronouncing it a nicer, pleasanter place than she had supposed. -It was very quiet about the house, and old -Whitey’s neigh as Morris’s span of bays came up was the -only sound which greeted them. In the wood-shed door -Uncle Ephraim sat smoking his clay pipe and likening -the feathery waves which curled above his head to the -little soul so recently gone upward; while by his side, upon -a log of wood, holding a pan of the luscious peaches -she was slicing up for tea, sat a woman whom Bell knew -at once for Aunt Betsy Barlow, and who, pan in hand, -came forward to meet her, curtsying very low when introduced -by Morris, and asking to be excused from shaking -hands, inasmuch as hers were not fit to be touched. -Bell’s quick eye took her in at a glance, from her clean -spotted gown to her plain muslin cap tied with a black ribbon, -put on that day with a view to mourning, and then -darted off to Uncle Ephraim, who won her heart at once -when she heard how his voice trembled as he took Wilford’s -hand and said so pityingly, so father-like, “Young -man, this is a sad day for you, and you have my sympathy, -for I remember well how my heart ached when, on -just such a day as this, my only child lay dead as yours -is lying.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Every muscle of Wilford’s face quivered, but he was too -proud to show all that he felt, and he was glad when Helen -appeared in the door, as that diverted his mind, and -he greeted her cordially, stooping down and kissing her -forehead, a thing he had never done before. But sorrow -is a great softener, and Wilford was very sorry, feeling -his loss more here, where everything was so quiet, so suggestive -of death.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_266'>266</span>“Where is Katy?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She is sleeping for the first time since the baby died. -She is in here with the child. She will stay nowhere -else,” Helen said, opening the door of the bedroom and -motioning Wilford in.</p> - -<p class='c011'>With hushed breath and a beating heart, Wilford stepped -across the threshold, and Helen closed the door, leaving -him alone with the living and the dead. Pure and beautiful -as some fair blossom, the dead child lay upon the bed, -the curls of golden hair clustering about its head, and on -its lips the smile which settled there when it tried to say -“mamma.” Its dimpled hands were folded upon its breast, -where lay the cross of flowers which Marian Hazelton had -made. There were flowers upon its pillow, flowers around -its head, flowers upon its shroud, flowers everywhere, -and itself the fairest flower of all, Wilford thought, -as he stood gazing at it and then let his eye move -on to where poor, tired, worn-out Katy had crept up -so close beside it that her breath touched the marble -cheek and her own disordered hair rested upon the pillow -of her child. Even in her sleep her tears kept dropping -and the pale lips quivered in a grieved, touching way. -Hard indeed would Wilford have been had he cherished -one bitter thought against the wife so wounded. He -could not when he saw her, but no one ever knew just -what passed through his mind during the half hour he -sat there beside her, scarcely stirring and not daring to -kiss his child lest he should awaken her. He could hear -the ticking of his watch and the beating of his heart as he -waited for the first sound which should herald’s Katy’s -waking.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Suddenly there was a low, gasping moan, and Katy’s -eyes unclosed and rested on her husband. He was bending -over her in an instant, and her arms were round his -neck, while she said to him so sadly,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Our baby is dead—you’ve nobody left but me; and -oh! Wilford, you will not blame me for bringing baby here? -I did not think she’d die. I’d give my life for hers if that -would bring her back. Would you rather it was me -lying as baby lies, and she here in your arms?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, Katy,” Wilford answered, and by his voice Katy -<span class='pageno' id='Page_267'>267</span>knew that she was wholly forgiven, crying on his neck in -a plaintive, piteous way, while Wilford soothed and pitied -and caressed, feeling subdued and humbled, and we must -confess it, feeling too how very good and generous he -was to be thus forbearing, when but for Katy’s act of -disobedience they might not now be childless!</p> - -<hr class='c014'> - -<p class='c011'>With a great gush of tears Bell Cameron bent over the -little form, and then enfolded Katy in a more loving embrace -than she had ever given her before; but whatever -she might have said was prevented by the arrival of the -coffin, and the confusion which followed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Much Wilford regretted that New York was so far -away, for a city coffin was more suitable, he thought, for -a child of his, than the one which Dr. Grant had ordered. -But that was really of less consequence than the question -where the child should be buried. A costly monument -at Greenwood was in accordance with his ideas, but all -things indicated a contemplated burial there in the country -churchyard, and sorely perplexed, he called on Bell as -the only Cameron at hand, to know what he should -do.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do just as Katy prefers,” was Bell’s reply, as she -led him to the coffin and pointed to the name: “Little -Genevra Cameron, aged nine months and twenty days.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What is it, Wilford—what is the matter?” she asked, -as her brother turned whiter than his child.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Had “Genevra Lambert, aged 22,” met his eye, he -could not have been more startled than he was; but soon -rallying, he said to Morris,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The child was baptized, then?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, baptized Genevra. That was Katy’s choice, I -understand,” Morris replied, and Wilford bowed his head, -wishing the <em>Genevra</em> across the sea might know that his -child bore her name.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“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 -<span class='pageno' id='Page_268'>268</span>need care. “She will know it is mine at least,” he said, -and with a thoughtful face he went in quest of Katy, -whom he found sobbing by the side of the mourning -garments just sent in for her inspection.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford was averse to black. It would not become -Katy, he feared, and it would be an unanswerable reason -for her remaining closely home for the entire winter.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What’s this?” he asked, lifting the crape veil and -dropping it again with an impatient gesture as Helen -replied, “It is Katy’s mourning veil.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Contrary to his expectations, black was becoming to -Katy, who looked like a pure white lily, as, leaning on -Wilford’s arm next day, she stood by the grave where -they were burying her child.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford had spoken to her of Greenwood, but she had -begged so hard that he had given up that idea, suggesting -next, as more in accordance with city custom, that -she remain at home while <em>he</em> only followed to the grave; -but from this Katy recoiled in such distress that he gave -that lip too, and bore, magnanimously as he thought, the -sight of all the Barlows standing around that grave, alike -mourners with himself, and all a right to be there. Wilford -felt his loss deeply, and his heart ached to its very -core as he heard the gravel rattling down upon the coffin-lid -which covered the beautiful child he had loved so -much. But amid it all he never for a moment forgot -that he was <em>Wilford Cameron</em>, and infinitely superior to -the crowd around him—except, indeed, his wife, his sister, -Dr. Grant, and Helen. He could bear to see them sorry, -and feel that by their sorrow they honored the memory of -his child. But for the rest—the village herd, with the -Barlows in their train—he had no affinity, and his manner -was as haughty and distant as ever as he passed through -their midst back to the carriage, which took him again -to the farm-house.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_269'>269</span> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXXI.<br> <span class='large'>AFTER THE FUNERAL.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Had there been a train back to New York that afternoon -Wilford would most certainly have suggested going; but -as there was none he passed the time as well as he could, -finding Bell a great help to him, but wondering that she -could assimilate so readily with such people, declaring -herself in love with the farm-house, and saying she should -like to remain there for weeks, if the days were all as sunny -as this, the dahlias as gorgeously bright, and the peaches -by the well as delicious and ripe. To these the city girl -took readily, visiting them the last thing before retiring, -while Wilford found her there when he arose next morning, -her dress and slippers nearly spoiled with the heavy dew, -and her hands full of the fresh fruit which Aunt Betsy -knocked from the tree with a quilting rod; <em>her</em> dress -pinned around her waist, and disclosing a petticoat scrupulously -clean, but patched and mended with so many -different patterns and colors that the original ground -was lost, and none could tell whether it had been red or -black, buff or blue. Between Aunt Betsy and Bell the -most amicable feeling had existed ever since the older -lady had told the younger how all the summer long she -had been drying fruit, “thimble-berries, blue-bries, and -huckle-berries” for the soldiers, and how she was now -drying peaches for Willard Buxton—once their hired -man. These she should tie up in a <em>salt bag</em>, and put in -the next box sent by the society of which she seemed to -be head and front, “kind of fust directress” she said, and -Bell was interested at once, for among the soldiers down -by the Potomac was one who carried with him the whole -of Bell Cameron’s heart; and who for a few days had -tarried at just such a dwelling as the farm-house, writing -back to her so pleasant descriptions of it, with its -fresh grass and shadowy trees, that she had longed to be -there too. So it was through this halo of romance and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_270'>270</span>love that Bell looked at the farm-house and its occupants, -preferring good Aunt Betsy because she seemed the most -interested in the soldiers, working as soon as breakfast -was over upon the peaches, and kindly furnishing her -best check apron, together with pan and knife for Bell, -who offered her assistance, notwithstanding Wilford’s warning -that the fruit would stain her hands, and his advice -that she had better be putting up her things for going -home.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She was not going that day,” she said, point blank, -and as Katy too had asked to stay a little longer, Wilford -was compelled to yield, and taking his hat sauntered off -toward Linwood; while Katy went listlessly into the -kitchen, where Bell Cameron sat, her tongue moving -much faster than her hands, which pared so slowly and -cut away so much of the juicy pulp, besides making so -frequent journeys to her mouth, that Aunt Betsy looked -in alarm at the rapidly disappearing fruit, wishing to herself -that “Miss Camern had not ’listed.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But <em>Miss Camern</em> had enlisted, and so had Bob, or -rather he had gone to his duty, and as she worked, she -repeated to Helen the particulars of his going, telling -how, when the war first broke out, and Sumter was bombarded, -Bob, who, from long association with Southern -men at West Point, had imbibed many of their ideas, was -very sympathetic with the rebelling States, gaining the -cognomen of a secessionist, and once actually thinking of -casting in his lot with that side rather than the other. -But a little incident saved him, she said. The remembrance -of a queer old lady whom he met in the cars, and -who, at parting held her wrinkled hand above his head -in benediction, charging him not to go against the flag, -and promising her prayers for his safety if found on the -side of the Union.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I wish you could hear Bob tell the story, the funny -part I mean,” she continued, narrating as well as she could -the particulars of Lieutenant Bob’s meeting with Aunt -Betsy, who, as the story progressed and she recognized -herself in the queer old Yankee woman, who shook hands -with the conductor and was going to law about a sheep-pasture, dropped her head lower and lower over her pan -<span class='pageno' id='Page_271'>271</span>of peaches, while a scarlet flush spread itself all over her -thin face, but changed to a grayish white as Bell concluded -with “Bob says the memory of that hand lifted above -his head haunted him day and night, during the period of -his uncertainty, and was at last the means of saving him -from treachery to his country.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Thank God!” came involuntarily from Aunt Betsy’s -quivering lips, and, looking up, Bell saw the great tears -running down her cheeks, tears which she wiped away -with her arm, while she said faintly, “That old woman, -who made a fool of herself in the cars, was <em>me</em>!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You, Miss Barlow, you!” Bell exclaimed, forgetting -in her astonishment to carry to her mouth the luscious -half peach she had intended for that purpose, and dropping -it untasted into the pan, while Katy, who had been -listening with considerable interest, came quickly forward -saying, “You, Aunt Betsy! when were you in New York, -and why did I never know it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It could not be kept back and, unmindful of Bell, Helen -explained to Katy as well as she could the circumstances -of Aunt Betsy’s visit to New York the previous winter.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And she never let me know it, or come to see me, because—because—” -Katy hesitated, and looked at Bell, -who said, pertly, “Because Will is so abominably proud, -and would have made such a fuss. Don’t spoil a story for -relation’s sake, I beg,” and the young lady laughed good-humoredly, restoring peace to all save Katy, whose face -wore a troubled look, and who soon stole away to her -mother, whom she questioned further with regard to a -circumstance which seemed so mysterious to her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Miss Barlow,” Bell said, when Katy was gone, “you -will forgive me for repeating that story as I did. Of -course I had no idea it was you of whom I was talking.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Bell was very earnest, and her eyes looked pleadingly -upon Aunt Betsy, who answered her back, “There’s nothing -to forgive. You only told the truth. I did make an -old fool of myself, but if I helped that boy to a right -decision, my journey did some good, and I ain’t sorry -now if I did go to the play-house. I confessed that to -the sewing circle, and Mrs. Deacon Bannister ain’t seemed -the same towards me since, but I don’t care. I beat her on -<span class='pageno' id='Page_272'>272</span>the election to first directress of the Soldier’s Aid. -She didn’t run half as well as me. That chap—you -call Bob—is he anything to you. Is he your beau?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was Bell’s turn now to blush and then grow white, -while Helen, lightly touching the superb diamond on her -first finger, said, “That indicates as much. When did it -happen, Bell?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mrs. Cameron had said they were not a family to bruit -their affairs abroad, and if so, Bell was not like her family, -for she answered frankly, “Just before he went away. -It’s a splendid diamond, isn’t it?” and she held it up for -Helen to inspect.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The basket was empty by this time, and as Aunt Betsy -went to fill it from the trees, Bell and Helen were left -alone, and the former continued in a low, sad tone, “I’ve -been so sorry sometimes that I did not tell Bob I <em>loved</em> -him, when he wished me to so much.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not tell him you loved him! How then could you -tell him yes, as it appears you did?” Helen asked, and -Bell answered, “I could not well help that; it came so -sudden and he begged so hard, saying my promise would -make him a better man, a better soldier and all that. It -was the very night before he went, and so I said that out -of <em>pity</em> and <em>patriotism</em> I would give the promise, and I did, -but it seemed too much for a woman to tell a man all at -once that she loved him, and I wouldn’t do it, but I’ve -been sorry since; oh, so sorry, during the two days when -we heard nothing from him after that dreadful battle at -Bull Run. We knew he was in it, and I thought I should -die until his telegram came saying he was safe. I did sit -down then and commence a letter, confessing all, but I -tore it up, and he don’t know now just how I feel.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And do you really love him?” Helen asked, puzzled -by this strange girl, who laughingly held up her soft, -white hand, stained and blackened with the juice of the -fruit she had been paring, and said, “Do you suppose I -would spoil my hands like that, and incur <i><span lang="fr">ma chère mamma’s</span></i> -displeasure, if Bob were not in the army and I did -not care for him? And now allow me to catechise you. -Did Mark Ray ever propose and you refuse him?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Never!” and Helen’s face grew crimson, while Bell -<span class='pageno' id='Page_273'>273</span>continued: “That is funny. Half our circle think so, -though how the impression was first given I do not know. -Mother told me, but would not tell where she received -her information. I heard of it again in a few days, and -have reason to believe that Mrs. Banker knows it too, and -feels a little uncomfortable that her son should be refused -when she considers him worthy of the Empress herself.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Helen was very white, as she asked, “And how with -Mark and Juno?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, there is nothing between them,” Bell replied. -“Mark has scarcely called on us since he returned from -Washington with his regiment. You are certain you never -cared for him?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This was so abrupt, and Bell’s eyes were so searching -that Helen grew giddy for a moment, and grasped the -back of the chair, as she replied: “I did not say I never -cared for him. I said he never proposed; and that is -true; he never did.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And if he had?” Bell continued, never taking her -eyes from Helen, who, had she been less agitated, would -have denied Bell’s right to question her so closely. Now, -however, she answered blindly, “I do not know. I cannot -tell. I thought him engaged to Juno.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, if that is not the rarest case of cross-purposes -that I ever knew,” Bell said, wiping her hands upon Aunt -Betsy’s apron, and preparing to attack the piled up basket -just brought in.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Farther conversation was impossible, and, with her -mind in a perfect tempest of thought, Helen went away, -trying to decide what it was best for her to do. Some -one had spread the report that <em>she</em> had refused Mark Ray, -telling of the refusal of course, or how else could it have -been known? and this accounted for Mrs. Banker’s long -continued silence. Since Helen’s return to Silverton Mrs. -Banker had written two or three kind, friendly letters, -which did her so much good; but these had suddenly -ceased, and Helen’s last remained unanswered. She -saw the reason now, every nerve quivering with pain -as she imagined what Mrs. Banker must think of one who -could make a refusal public, or what was tenfold worse, -pretend to an offer she never received. “She must despise -<span class='pageno' id='Page_274'>274</span>me, and Mark Ray, too, if he has heard of it,” she -said, resolving one moment to ask Bell to explain to Mrs. -Banker, and then changing her mind and concluding to -let matters take their course, inasmuch as interference -from her might be construed by the mother into undue -interest in the son. “Perhaps Bell will do it without -my asking,” she thought, and this hope did much toward -keeping her spirits up on that last day of Katy’s stay at -home, for she was going back in the morning.</p> - -<p class='c011'>They did not see Marian Hazelton again, and Katy -wondered at it, deciding that in some things Marian was -very peculiar, while Wilford and Bell were disappointed, -as both had a desire to meet and converse with one who -had been so like a second mother to the little dead Genevra. -Wilford spoke of his child now as Genevra, but to -Katy it was Baby still; and, with choking sobs and passionate -tears, she bade good-bye to the little mound -underneath which it was lying, and then went back to -New York.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXXII.<br> <span class='large'>THE FIRST WIFE.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Katy was very unhappy in her city home, and the -world, as she looked upon it, seemed utterly cheerless. -For much of this unhappiness Wilford was himself to -blame. After the first few days, during which he was all -kindness and devotion, he did not try to comfort her, -but seemed irritated that she should mourn so deeply for -the child which, but for her indiscretion, might have -been living still. He did not like staying at home, and -their evenings, when they were alone, passed in gloomy -silence. At last Mrs. Cameron brought her influence to -bear upon her daughter-in-law, trying to rouse her to -something like her olden interest in the world; but all -to no effect, and matters grew constantly worse, as Wilford -thought Katy unreasonable and selfish, while Katy -tried hard not to think him harsh in his judgment of -her, and exacting in his requirements. “Perhaps she -was the one most in fault; it could not be pleasant for -<span class='pageno' id='Page_275'>275</span>him to see her so entirely changed from what she used to -be,” she thought, one morning late in November, when, -her husband had just left her with an angry frown upon -his face and reproachful words upon his lips.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Father Cameron and his daughters were out of town, -and Mrs. Cameron had asked Wilford and Katy to dine -with her. But Katy did not wish to go, and Wilford had -left her in anger, saying “she could suit herself, but he -should go at all events.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Left alone, Katy began to feel that she had done wrong -in declining the invitation. Surely she could go there, -and the echo of the <em>bang</em> with which Wilford had closed -the street door was still vibrating in her ear, when her -resolution began to give way, and while Wilford was -riding moodily down town, thinking harsh things against -her, she was meditating what she thought might be an -agreeable surprise. She would go round and meet him -at dinner, trying to appear as much like her old self as -she could, and so atone for anything which had hitherto -been wrong in her demeanor.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Later in the day Esther was sent for to arrange her -mistress’s hair, as she had not arranged it since baby -died. Wilford had been annoyed by the smooth bands -combed so plainly back, and at the blackness of the dress, -but now there was a change, and graceful curls fell about -the face, giving it the girlish expression which Wilford -liked. The soberness of the dark dress was relieved by -simple folds of white crape at the throat and wrists, while -the handsome jet ornaments, the gift of Wilford’s father, -added to the style and beauty of the childish figure, -which had seldom looked lovelier than when ready and -waiting for the carriage. At the door there was a ring, -and Esther brought a note to Katy, who read as follows:</p> - -<p class='c005'><span class='sc'>Dear Katy</span>:—I have been suddenly called to leave the -city on business, which will probably detain me for three -days or more, and as I must go on the night train, I wish -Esther to have my portmanteau ready with whatever I may -need for the journey. As I proposed this morning, I shall -dine with mother, but come home immediately after dinner.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>W. Cameron.</span></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_276'>276</span>Katy was glad now that she had decided to meet him -at his mother’s, as the knowing she had pleased him -would make the time of his absence more endurable, and -after seeing that everything was ready for him she stepped -with a comparatively light heart into her carriage, and -was driven to No.—— Fifth Avenue.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mrs. Cameron was out, the servant said, but was expected -every minute with Mr. Wilford.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Never mind,” Katy answered; “I want to surprise -them, so please don’t tell them I am here when you let -them in,” and going into the library she sat down before -the grate, waiting rather impatiently until the door-bell -rang and she heard both Wilford’s and Mrs. Cameron’s -voices in the hall.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Contrary to her expectations, they did not come into -the library, but went into the parlor, the door of which -was partially ajar, so that every word they said could be -distinctly heard where Katy sat. It would seem that -they were continuing a conversation which had been interrupted -by their arriving home, for Mrs. Cameron said, -with the tone she always assumed when sympathizing -with her son. “Is she never more cheerful than when I -have seen her?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Never,” and Katy could feel just how Wilford’s lips -shut over his teeth as he said it; “never more cheerful, -but worse if anything. Why, positively the house seems -so like a funeral that I hate to leave the office and go -back to it at night, knowing how mopish and gloomy -Katy will be.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My poor boy, it is worse than I feared,” Mrs. Cameron -said, with a little sigh, while Katy, with a great gasping -sob, tried to rise and go to them, to tell them she was -there—the mopish Katy, who made her home so like -a funeral to her husband.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But her limbs refused to move, and she sank back -powerless in her chair, compelled to listen to things which -no true husband would ever say to a mother of his wife, -especially when that wife’s error consisted principally in -mourning for the child “which but for her imprudence -might have been living then.” These were Wilford’s -very words, and though Katy had once expected him -<span class='pageno' id='Page_277'>277</span>to say them, they came upon her now with a dreadful -shock, making her view herself as the murderer of her -child, and thus blunting the pain she might otherwise -have felt as he went on to speak of Silverton and its -inhabitants just as he would not have spoken had he -known she was so near. Then, encouraged by his mother, -he talked again of her in a way which made her poor aching -heart throb as she whispered, sadly, “He is disappointed -in me. I do not come up to all that he expected. -I do very well, considering my low origin, but I am not -what his wife should be.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford had not said all this, but Katy inferred it, -and every nerve quivered with anguish as the wild wish -came over her that she had died on that day when she -sat in the summer grass at home waiting for Wilford -Cameron. Poor Katy! she thought her cup of sorrow -full, when, alas! only a drop had as yet been poured into -it. But it was filling fast, and Mrs. Cameron’s words, -“It might have been better with Genevra,” was the -first outpouring of the overwhelming torrent which for -a moment bore her life and sense away. She thought -they meant her baby—the little Genevra sleeping under -the snow in Silverton—and her white lips answered, -“Yes, it would be better,” before Wilford’s voice was -heard, saying, as he always said, “No, I have never -wished Genevra in Katy’s place; though I have sometimes -wondered what the result would have been had I -learned in season how much I wronged her.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Was heaven and earth coming together, or what made -Katy’s brain so dizzy and the room so dark, as, with head -bent forward and lips apart, she strained her ear to -catch every word of the conversation which followed, -and in which she saw glimpses of that <em>leaf</em> offered her -once to read, and from which she had promised not to -shrink should it ever be thrust upon her? But she did -shrink, oh! so shudderingly, holding up her hands and -striking them through the empty air as if she would -thrust aside the terrible spectre risen so suddenly before -her. She had heard all that she cared to hear then. -Another word and she should surely die where she was, -within hearing of the voices still talking of <em>Genevra</em>. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_278'>278</span>Stopping her ears to shut out the dreadful sound, she -tried to think what she should do. To gain the door -and reach the street was her desire, and throwing on -her wrappings she went noiselessly into the hall, and -carefully turning the lock and closing the door behind her, -she found herself alone in the street in the dusk of a -November night. But Katy was not afraid, and drawing -her hood closely over her face she sped on until her -own house was reached, alarming Esther with her frightened -face, but explaining that she had been taken suddenly -ill and returned before dinner</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mr. Cameron will be here soon,” she said. “I do -not need anything to-night, so you can leave me alone -and go where you like—to the theatre, if you choose. I -heard you say you wished to go. Here is the money -for you and Phillips,” and handing a bill to the puzzled -Esther, she dismissed her from the room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Meanwhile, at the elder Cameron’s, no one had a suspicion -of Katy’s recent presence, for the girl who had -admitted her had gone to visit a sick sister, with whom -she was to spend the night. Thus Katy’s secret was -safe, and Wilford, when at last he bade his mother good-bye -and started for home, was not prepared for the -livid face, the bloodshot eyes, and the strange, unnatural -look which met him at the threshold.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy answered his ring herself, her hands grasping -his fiercely, dragging him up the stairs to her own -room, where, more like a maniac than Katy Cameron, she -confronted him with the startling question,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Who is <em>Genevra Lambert</em>? It is time I knew before -committing greater sin. Tell me, Wilford, who <em>is</em> she?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was standing before him, her slight figure seeming -to expand into a greater height, the features glowing -with strong excitement, and her hot breath coming -hurriedly through her dilated nostrils, but never opening -the pale lips set so firmly together. There was -something terrible in her look and attitude, and it startled -Wilford, who recoiled a moment from her, scarcely able -to recognize the Katy hitherto so gentle and quiet. She -had learned his secret, but the facts must have been -distorted, he knew, or she had never been so agitated. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_279'>279</span>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 <em>who</em> is <em>Genevra -Lambert</em>.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She repeated the question twice, and rallying all his -strength Wilford answered her at last, “<em>Genevra Lambert -was my wife!</em>”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I thought so,” and the next moment Katy lay in -Wilford’s arms, dead, as he feared, for there was no motion -about the eyelids, no motion that he could perceive -about the pulse or heart, as he laid the rigid form upon -the bed and then bent every energy to restore her, even -though he feared that it was hopeless.</p> - -<p class='c011'>If possible he would prefer that no one should intrude -upon them now, and he chafed her icy hands and bathed -her face until the eyes unclosed again, but with a shudder -turned away as they met his. Then, as she grew stronger -and remembered the past, she started up, exclaiming, -“If Genevra Lambert is your wife, what then <em>am I</em>? -Oh, Wilford, how could you make me <em>not</em> a wife, when I -trusted and loved you so much?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He knew she was laboring under a mistake, and he -did not wonder at the violence of her emotions if she believed -he had wronged her so cruelly, and coming nearer -to her he said, “Genevra Lambert <em>was</em> my wife once, -but is not now, for she is dead. Do you hear me, Katy? -Genevra died years ago, when you were a little girl playing -in the fields at home.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>By mentioning Silverton, he hoped to bring back -something of her olden look, in place of the expression -which troubled and frightened him. The experiment was -successful, and great tears gathered in Katy’s eyes, washing -out the wild, unnatural gleam, while the lips whispered, -“And it was her picture Juno saw. She told me the -night I came, and I tried to question you. You -remember?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford did remember it, and he replied, “Yes, but I -did not suppose you knew I had a picture. You have -been a good wife, Katy, never to mention it since then;” -and he tried to kiss her forehead, but she covered it -<span class='pageno' id='Page_280'>280</span>with her hands, saying sadly, “Not yet, Wilford, I cannot -bear it now. I must know the whole about Genevra. -Why didn’t you tell me before? Why have you deceived -me so?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Katy,” and Wilford grew very earnest in his attempts -to defend himself, “do you remember that day we sat -under the buttonwood tree, and you promised to be mine? -Try and recall the incidents of that hour and see if I -did not hint at some things in the past which I wished -had been otherwise, and did not offer to show you the -blackest page of my whole life, but you would not see -it. Was that so, Katy?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” she answered, and he continued: “You said -you were satisfied to take me as I was. You would -not hear evil against me, and so I acquiesced, bidding -you not shrink back if ever the time should come when -you must read that page. I was to blame, I know, but -there were many extenuating circumstances, much to -excuse me for withholding what you would not hear.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford did not like to be censured, neither did he -like to censure himself, and now that Katy was out of -danger and comparatively calm, he began to build about -himself a fortress of excuses for having kept from her -the secret of his life.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“When did you hear of Genevra?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy told him when and how she heard the story, and -then added, “Oh, Wilford, why did you keep it from me? -What was there about it wrong, and where is she -buried?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“In Alnwick, at St. Mary’s,” Wilford answered, determining -now to hold nothing back, and by his abruptness -wounding Katy afresh.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“In Alnwick, at St. Mary’s,” Katy cried. “Then I -have seen her grave, and that is why you were so anxious -to get there—so unwilling to go away. Oh, if I were lying -there instead of Genevra, it would be so much better, so -much better.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy was sobbing now, in a moaning, plaintive way, -which touched Wilford tenderly, and smoothing her tangled -hair, he said, “I would not exchange my Katy for all -the Genevras in the world. She was never as dear to me -<span class='pageno' id='Page_281'>281</span>as you. I was but a boy, and did not know my mind, -when I met her. Shall I tell you about her now? Can -you bear to hear the story of Genevra?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a nod of assent, and Katy turned her face to -the wall, clasping her hands tightly together, while Wilford -drew his chair to her side and began to read the page -he should have read to her long before.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXXIII.<br> <span class='large'>WHAT THE PAGE DISCLOSED.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>I was little more than nineteen years of age when -I left Harvard College and went abroad with my only -brother, the John or Jack of whom you have so often -heard. Both himself and wife were in delicate health, -and it was hoped a voyage across the sea would do them -good. For nearly a year we were in various parts of -England, stopping for two months at Brighton, where, -among the visitors, was a widow from the vicinity of -Alnwick, and with her an orphan niece, whose dazzling -beauty attracted my youthful fancy. She was not happy -with her aunt, upon whom she was wholly dependent, and -my sympathies were all enlisted, when, with the tears shining -in her lustrous eyes, she one day accidentally stumbled -upon her trouble and told me how wretched she was, -asking if in America there was not something for her to -do.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It was at this time that Jamie was born, and Mary, -the girl who went out with us, was married to an Englishman, -making it necessary for Hatty to find some one to -take her place. Hearing of this, Genevra came one day, -and offered herself as half companion, half waiting-maid -to Hatty. Anything was preferable to the life she led, -she said, pleading so hard that Hatty, after an interview -with the old aunt—a purse-proud, vulgar woman, who -seemed glad to be rid of her charge—consented to receive -her, and Genevra became one of our family, an equal rather -than a menial, whom Hatty treated with as much consideration -as if she had been a sister. I wish I could tell you -<span class='pageno' id='Page_282'>282</span>how beautiful Genevra Lambert was at that period of her -life, with her brilliant English complexion, her eyes so full -of poetry and passion, her perfect features, and, more than -all, the wondrous smile, which would have made a plain -face handsome.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Of course I came to love her, and loved her all the -more for the opposition I knew my family would throw -in the way of my marrying the daughter of an English -apothecary, and one who was voluntarily filling a servant’s -place. But with my mother across the sea, I could -do anything; and when Genevra told me of a base fellow, -who, since she was a child, had sought her for his wife, -and still pursued her with his letters, my passions were -roused, and I offered myself at once. Her answer was a -decided refusal. She knew <em>her</em> position, she said, and -she knew mine, just as she knew the nature of the feeling -which prompted me to act thus toward her. Although -just my age, she was older in judgment and experience, -and she seemed to understand the difference between our -relative positions. I was not indifferent to her, she said, -and were she my equal her answer might be otherwise -than the decided no.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Madly in love, and fancying I could not live without -her, I besieged her with letters, some of which she returned -unopened, while on others she wrote a few hurried -lines, calling me a boy, who did not know my own -mind, and asking what my friends would say.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I cared little for friends, and urged my suit the more -vehemently, as we were about going into Scotland, where -our marriage could be celebrated in private at any time. -I did not contemplate making the affair public at once. -That would take from the interest and romance, while, -unknown to myself, there was at heart a fear of my -family.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But not to dwell too long upon those days, which -seem to me now like a dream, we went to Scotland and -were married privately, for I won her to this at last.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My brother’s failing health, as well as Hatty’s, prevented -them from suspecting what was going on, and -when at last we went to Italy they had no idea that Genevra -was my wife. At Rome her beautiful face attracted much -<span class='pageno' id='Page_283'>283</span>attention from tourists and residents, among whom were -a few young men, who, looking upon her as Jamie’s nurse, -or at most a companion for his mother, made no attempt -to disguise their admiration. For this I had no redress -except in an open avowal of the relation in which I stood -to her, and this I could not then do, for the longer it -was deferred the harder I found it to acknowledge her my -wife. I loved her devotedly, and that perhaps was one -great cause of the jealousy which began to spring up and -embitter my life.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I do not now believe that Genevra was at heart a -coquette. She was very fond of admiration, but when -she saw how much I was disturbed she made an effort to -avoid those who flattered her, but her manner was unfortunate, -while her voice—the sweetest I ever heard—was -calculated to invite rather than repel attention. As the -empress of the world, she would have won and kept the -homage of mankind, from the humblest beggar in the -street to the king upon the throne, and had I been older -I should have been proud of what then was my greatest -annoyance. But I was a mere boy—and I watched her -jealously, until a new element of disquiet was presented -to me in the shape of a ruffianly looking fellow, who was -frequently seen about the premises, and with whom I -once found Genevra in close converse, starting and blushing -guiltily when I came upon her, while her companion -went swiftly from my sight.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It was an old English acquaintance, who was poor -and asking charity,” she said, when questioned, but her -manner led me to think there was something wrong, -particularly as I saw her with him again, and thought -she held his hand.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It was evident that my brother would never see America -again, and at his request my mother came to us, in company -with a family from Boston, reaching us two weeks -before he died. From the first she disliked Genevra, and -suspected the liking between us, but never dreaming of -the truth until a week after Jack’s death, when in a fit -of anger at Genevra for listening to an English artist, -who had asked to paint her picture, the story of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_284'>284</span>marriage came out, and like a child dependent on its -mother for advice, I asked, ‘What shall I do??</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You know mother, and can in part understand how -she would scorn a girl who, though born to better things, -was still found in the capacity of a waiting-maid. I never -saw her so moved as she was for a time, after learning -that her only living son, from whom she expected so much, -had thrown himself away, as she expressed it. Sister -Hatty, who loved Genevra, did all she could to heal the -growing difference between us, but I trusted mother most. -I believed that what she said was right, and so matters -grew worse, until one night, the last we spent in Rome, -I missed Genevra from our rooms, and starting in quest -of her, found her, in a little flower garden back of our -dwelling. There, under the deep shadow of a tree, and -partly concealed from view, she stood with her arm -around the neck of the same rough-looking man who -had been there before. She did not see me as I watched -her while she parted with him, suffering him to kiss -her hand and forehead as he said, “Good-bye, my -darling.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“In a tremor of anger and excitement I quitted the -spot, my mind wholly made up with regard to my future. -That there was something wrong about Genevra I did -not doubt, and I would not give her a chance to explain -by telling her what I had seen, but sent her back to England, -giving her ample means for defraying the expenses -of her journey and for living in comfort after her arrival -there. From Rome we went to Naples, and then to -Switzerland, where Hatty died, leaving us alone with -little Jamie. It was at Berne that I received an -anonymous letter from England, the writer stating that -Genevra was with her aunt, that the whole had ended as -he thought it would, that he could readily guess at the -nature of the trouble, and hinting that if a <em>divorce</em> was -desirable on my return to England, all necessary proof -could be obtained by applying to such a number in London, -the writer announcing himself a brother of the man -who had once sought Genevra, and saying he had always -opposed the match, knowing Genevra’s family.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“This was the first time the idea of a <em>divorce</em> had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_285'>285</span>entered my mind, and I shrank from a final separation. -But mother felt differently. It was not a new thought -to her, knowing as she did that the validity of a Scotch -marriage, such as ours, was frequently contested in the -English Courts. Once free from Genevra the world this -side the water would never know of that mistake, and -she set herself steadily to accomplish her purpose. To -tell you all that followed our return to England, and the -steps by which I was brought to sue for a divorce, would -make my story too long, and so I will only state that, -chiefly by the testimony of the anonymous letter-writer, -whose acquaintance we made, a divorce was obtained, -Genevra putting in no defence, but, as I heard afterwards, -settling down into an apathy from which nothing -had power to rouse her until the news of her freedom -from me was carried to her, when, amid a paroxysm of -tears and sobs, she wrote me a few lines, assuring me of -her innocence, refusing to send back her wedding ring, -and saying God would not forgive me for the great -wrong I had done her. I saw her once after that by -appointment, and her face haunted me for years, for, Katy, -<em>Genevra was innocent</em>, as I found after the time was past -when reparation could be made.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford’s voice trembled, and for a moment there was -silence in the room, while he composed himself to go on -with the story:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She would not live with me again if she could, she -said, denouncing bitterly the Cameron pride, and saying -she was happier to be free; and there we parted, but -not until she told me that her traducer was the old discarded -suitor who had sworn to have revenge, and who, -since the divorce, had dared seek her again. A vague -suspicion of this had crossed my mind once before, but -the die was cast, and even if the man were false, what I -saw myself in Rome still stood against her, and so my -conscience was quieted, while mother was more than glad -to be rid of a daughter-in-law of whose family I knew -nothing. Rumors I did hear of a cousin whose character -was not the best, and of the father who for some crime -had fled the country, and died in a foreign land, but -as that was nothing to me now, I passed it by, feeling -<span class='pageno' id='Page_286'>286</span>it was best to be released from one of so doubtful -antecedents.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“In the spring of 185— we came back to New York, -where no one had ever heard of the affair, so quietly -had it been managed. I was still an unmarried man to the -world, as no one but my mother knew my secret. With -her I often talked of Genevra, wishing sometimes that I -could hear from her, a wish which was finally gratified. -One day I received a note requesting an interview at a -down town hotel, the writer signing himself as Thomas -Lambert, and adding that I need have no fears, as he came -to perform an act of justice, not of retribution. Three -hours later I was locked in a room with Genevra’s father, -the same man whom I had seen in Rome. Detected in forgery -years before, he had fled from England and had -hidden himself in Rome, where he accidentally met his -daughter, and so that stain was removed. He had heard -of the divorce by a letter which Genevra managed to send -him, and braving all difficulties and dangers he had come -back to England and found his child, hearing from her -the story of her wrongs, and as well as he was able setting -himself to discover the author of the calumny. He was -not long in tracing it to <em>Le Roy</em>, Genevra’s former suitor, -whom he found in a dying condition, and who with his -last breath confessed the falsehood which was imposed -upon me, he said, partly from motives of revenge, and -partly, with a hope that free from me, Genevra would -at the last turn to him. As proof that Mr. Lambert -told me truth, he brought the dying man’s confession, -written in a cramped, trembling hand, which I recognized -at once. The confession ended with the solemn assertion, -‘For aught I know or believe, Genevra Lambert is as -pure and true as any woman living.’</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I cannot describe the effect this had upon me. I -did not love Genevra then. I had out-lived that affection, -but I felt remorse and pity for having wronged her, -and asked how I could make amends.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“‘You cannot,’ the old man said, ‘except in one way, -and that she does not desire. I did not come here with -any wish for you to take her for your wife again. It -was an unequal match which never should have been; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_287'>287</span>but if you believe her innocent, she will be satisfied. -She wanted you to know it—I wanted you to know it, -and so I crossed the sea to find you.’”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The next I heard of her was in the columns of an -English newspaper, which told me she was dead, while -in another place a pencil mark was lightly traced around -a paragraph, which said that ‘a forger, Thomas Lambert, -who escaped years ago and was supposed to be dead, -had recently reappeared in England, where he was recognized, -but not arrested, for the illness which proved -fatal. He was attended,’ the paper said, ‘by his daughter, -a beautiful young girl, whose modest mien and gentle -manner had done much towards keeping the officers -of justice from her dying father, no one being able to -withstand her pleadings that her father might die in -peace.’</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I was grateful for this tribute to Genevra, for I felt -that it was deserved; and I turned again to the notice of -her death, which must have occurred within a short time of -her father’s, and was probably induced by past troubles -and recent anxiety for him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Genevra Lambert died at Alnwick, aged 22. There -could be no mistake, and with a tear to the memory of -the dead whom I had loved and injured, I burned the -paper, feeling that now there was no clue to the secret I -was as anxious to preserve as was my mother.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And so the years wore on till I met and married -you, withholding from you that yours was not the first -love which had stirred my heart. I meant to tell you, -Katy, but I could not for the great fear of losing you if -you knew all. And then an error concealed so long is -hard to be confessed. I took you across the sea to Brighton, -where I first met Genevra, and then to Alnwick, seeking -out the grave which made assurance doubly sure. It -was natural that I should make some inquiries concerning -her last days; I questioned the old sexton who was at -work near by. Calling his attention to the name, I -said it was an uncommon one and asked if he knew the -girl.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“‘Not by sight, no,’ he said. ‘She was only here a -few days before she died. I’ve heard she was very winsome -<span class='pageno' id='Page_288'>288</span>and that there was a scandal of some kind mixed -up with her.’</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I would not ask him any more; and without any -wrong to you, I confess that my tears dropped upon the -turf under which I knew Genevra lay.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am glad they did; I should hate you if you had not -cried,” Katy exclaimed, her voice more natural than it -had been since the great shock came.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do you forgive me, Katy? Do you love me as well -as ever?” Wilford asked, stooping down to kiss her, but -Katy drew her face away and would not answer then.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She did not know herself how she felt towards him. -He did not seem just like the husband she had trusted in -so blindly. It would take a long time to forget that another -head than hers had lain upon his bosom, and it would -take longer yet to blot out the memory of complaining -words uttered to his mother. She had never thought he -could do that, never dreamed of such a thing, knowing -that she would sooner have parted with her right hand -than complained of him. Her idol had fallen in more respects -than one, and the heart it had bruised in the fall -refused at once to gather the shattered pieces up and call -them as good as new. She was not so obstinate as Wilford -began to fancy. She was only stunned and could not -rally at his bidding. He confessed the whole, keeping -nothing back, and he felt that Katy was unjust not to -acknowledge his magnanimity and restore him to her -favor. Again he asked forgiveness, and bent down to kiss -her, but Katy answered, “Not yet, Wilford, not till I -feel all right towards you. A wife’s kiss should be -sincere.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“As you like,” trembled on Wilford’s lips, but he beat -back the words and walked up and down the room, -knowing now that his journey must be deferred till -morning, and wondering if Katy would hold out till -then.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was long past midnight, but to retire was impossible, -and so for one whole hour he paced through the room, -while Katy lay with her eyes closed and her lips moving -occasionally in words of prayer she tried to say, asking -God to help her, and praying that she might in future -<span class='pageno' id='Page_289'>289</span>lay her treasures up where they could not so suddenly be -swept away. Wearily the hours passed, and the gray -dawn was stealing into the room when Wilford again -approached his wife and said, “You know I was to have -left home last night on business. As I did not go then it -is necessary that I leave this morning. Are you able to -stay alone for three days more? Are you willing?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes—oh yes,” Katy replied, feeling that to have him -gone while she battled with the pain lying so heavy at -her heart, would be a great relief.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Perhaps he suspected this feeling in part, for he bit his -lip impatiently, and without another word called up the -servant whose duty it was to prepare his breakfast. Cold -and cheerless seemed the dining-room, to which an hour -later he repaired, and tasteless was the breakfast without -Katy there to share it. She had been absent many times -before, but never just as now, with this wide gulf between -them, and as he broke his egg and tried to drink his coffee, -Wilford felt like one from whom every support had -been swept away. He did not like the look on Katy’s face -or the sound of her voice, and as he thought upon them, -self began to whisper again that she had no right to stand -out so long when he had confessed everything, and by -the time his breakfast was finished, Wilford Cameron -was, in his own estimation, an abused and injured man, -so that it was with an air of defiance rather than humility -that he went again to Katy. She, too, had been thinking, -and as the result of her thoughts she lifted up her -head as he came in and said, “I can kiss you now, Wilford.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was human nature, we suppose—at least it was Wilford’s -nature—which for an instant tempted him to decline -the kiss proffered so lovingly; but Katy’s face was -more than he could withstand, and when again he left -that room the kiss of pardon was upon his lips and comparative -quiet was in his heart.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The picture, Wilford,—please bring me the picture, -I want to see it,” Katy called after him, as he was running -down the stairs.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford would not refuse, and hastily unlocking his -private drawer he carried the case to Katy’s room, saying -<span class='pageno' id='Page_290'>290</span>to her, “I would not mind it now. Try and sleep awhile. -You need the rest so much.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy knew she had the whole day before her, and so she -nestled down among her pillows and soon fell into a -quiet sleep, from which Esther at last awakened her, asking -if she should bring her breakfast to her room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, do,” Katy replied, adjusting her dress and trying -to arrange the matted curls, which were finally confined -in a net until Esther’s more practiced hands were ready -to attack them, then sending Esther from the room Katy -took the picture of Genevra from the table where Wilford -had laid it.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXXIV.<br> <span class='large'>THE EFFECT.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Very cautiously the lid was opened, and a lock of soft -brown hair fell out, clinging to Katy’s hand and making -her shudder as she shook off the silken tress and -remembered that the head it once adorned was lying -in St. Mary’s churchyard, where the English daisies -grew.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She had pretty hair,” she thought; “darker, richer -than mine,” and into Katy’s heart there crept a feeling -akin to jealousy, lest Genevra had been fairer than herself, -as well as better loved. “I won’t be foolish any -longer,” she said, and turning resolutely to the light, she -opened the lid again and saw Genevra Lambert, starting -quickly, then looking again more closely—then, with a -gasp, panting for breath; while like lightning flashes the -past came rushing over her, as, with her eyes fixed upon -that picture, she tried to whisper, “<em>It is—it is!</em>”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She could not then say whom, for if she were right in -her belief, Genevra was not dead. There were no daisies -growing on her grave, for she still walked the earth a -living woman, whom Katy knew so well—<em>Marian Hazelton</em>. -That was the name Katy could not speak, as, with -the blood curdling in her veins and freezing about her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_291'>291</span>heart, she sat comparing the face she remembered so -well with the one before her. In some points they were -unlike, for thirteen years had slightly marred the youthful -contour of the face she knew once—had sharpened the -features and thinned the abundant hair; but still there -could be no mistake. The eyes, the brow, the smile, the -nose, all were the same, and with a pang bitterer than -she yet had felt, poor Katy fell upon her face and asked -that she might die. In her utter ignorance of law, she -fancied that if Genevra were alive, she had no right to -Wilford’s name—no right to be his wife—especially as -the sin for which Genevra was divorced had by her never -been committed, and burning tears of bitter shame ran -down her cheeks as she whispered, “‘What God has -joined together let no man put asunder,’ Those are -God’s words, and how dare the world act otherwise? -she <em>is</em> his wife, and I—oh! I don’t know what I am!” -and on the carpet where she was kneeling Katy writhed -in agony as she tried to think what she must do. Not -stay there—she could not do that now—not, at least, -until she knew for sure that she was Wilford’s wife, in -spite of Genevra’s living. “Oh, if there was only some -one to advise me—some one who knew and would tell me -what was right,” Katy moaned, feeling herself inadequate -to meet the dark hour alone.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But to whom should she go? To Father Cameron? -No, nor to his mother. They might counsel wrong for -the sake of secrecy. Would Mark Ray or Mrs. Banker -know? Perhaps; but they were strangers;—her trouble -must not be told to them, and then with a great bound -her heart turned at last to <em>Morris</em>. He knew everything. -He would not sanction a wrong. He would tell -her just what was right, and she could trust him fully in -everything. There was no other person whom she could -believe just as she could him. Uncle Ephraim was equally -as good and conscientious, but he did not know as much -as Morris—he did not understand everything. Morris -was her refuge, and to him she would go that very day, -leaving a note for Wilford in case she never came back, -as possibly she might not. Had Marian been in the city -she would have gone to her at once, but Marian was where -<span class='pageno' id='Page_292'>292</span>long rows of cots were ranged against the hospital walls, -each holding a maimed and suffering soldier, to whom -she ministered so tenderly, the brightness of her smile -and the beauty of her face deluding the delirious ones -into the belief that the journey of life for them was ended -and heaven reached at last, where an angel in woman’s -garb attended upon them. Marian was impossible, and -Dr. Grant was the only alternative left.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But when she attempted to prepare for the journey -to Silverton, she found herself wholly inadequate to the -exertion. The terrible excitement through which she had -passed had exhausted her strength, and every nerve was -quivering, while spasms of pain darted through her head, -warning her that Silverton was impossible. “I can telegraph -and Morris will come,” she whispered, and without -pausing to think what the act might involve, she wrote -upon a slip of paper, “Cousin Morris, come to me in the -next train. I am in great trouble, Katy.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She would not add the Cameron. She had no right -to that name, she feared, and folding the paper, she -rang for Esther, bidding her give the telegram to the -boy Phil, with instructions to take it at once to the office -and see that it went immediately.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXXV.<br> <span class='large'>THE INTERVIEW.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Dr. Morris was very tired, for his labors that day -had been unusually severe, and it was with a feeling -of comfort and relief that at an earlier hour than usual, -he had turned his steps homeward, finding a bright fire -waiting him in the library, where his late dinner was -soon brought by the housekeeper. It was very pleasant -in that cosy library of oak and green, with the bright fire -on the hearth, and the smoking dinner set so temptingly -before him. And Morris felt the comfort of his home, -thanking the God who had given him all this, and chiding -his wayward heart that it had ever dared to repine. He -<span class='pageno' id='Page_293'>293</span>was not repining to-night, as with his hands crossed -upon his head he sat looking into the fire and watching -the bits of glowing anthracite dropping into the pan. He -was thinking of the sick-bed which he had visited last, and -how a faith in Jesus can make the humblest room like -the gate of Heaven; thinking how the woman’s eyes had -sparkled when she told him of the other world, where -she would never know pain or hunger or cold again, and -how quickly their lustre was dimmed when she spoke of -her absent husband, the soldier to whom the news of -her death, with the child he had never seen, would be a -crushing blow.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“They who have neither wife nor child are the happier -perhaps,” he said; and then he thought of Katy and -her great sorrow when baby died, wondering if to spare -herself that pain she would rather baby had never been. -“No—oh, no,” he answered to his own inquiry. “She -would not lose the memory which comes from that little -grave for all the world contains. It is better once to -love and lose than not to love at all. In Heaven we -shall see and know why these things were permitted, -and marvel at the poor human nature which rebelled -against them.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Just at this point of his soliloquy, the telegram was -brought to him. “Come in the next train. I am in -great trouble.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He read it many times, growing more and more perplexed -with each reading, and then trying to decide -what his better course would be. There were no patients -needing him that night, that he knew of; he might -perhaps go if there was yet time for the train which passed -at four o’clock. There was time, he found, and telling -Mrs. Hull that he had been suddenly called to New York, -he bade his boy bring out his horse and take him at once -to the depot. It was better to leave no message for the -deacon’s family, as he did not wish to alarm them unnecessarily. -“I shall undoubtedly be back to-morrow,” he -thought, as he took his seat in the car, wondering what -could be the trouble which had prompted that strange -despatch.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was nearly midnight when he reached the city, but -<span class='pageno' id='Page_294'>294</span>a light was shining from the windows of that house in -Madison Square, and Katy, who had never for a moment -doubted his coming, was waiting for him. But not in -the parlor; she was too sick now to go down there, and -when she heard his ring and his voice in the hall asking -for her, she bade Esther show him to her room. More -and more perplexed, Morris ran up to the room where -Katy lay, or rather crouched, upon the sofa, her eyes so -wild and her face so white that, in great alarm, Morris -took the cold hands she stretched feebly towards him, -and bending over her said, “What is it, Katy? Has anything -dreadful happened? and where is your husband?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>At the mention of her husband Katy shivered, and rising -from her crouching position, she pushed her hair -back from her forehead and replied, “Oh, Morris! I am -so wretched,—so full of pain! I have heard of something -which took my life away. I am <em>not</em> Wilford’s wife, -for he had another before me,—a wife in Italy,—who is -not dead! And <em>I</em>, oh Morris! what <em>am</em> I? I knew you -would know just what I was, and I sent for you to tell -me and take me away from here, back to Silverton. Help -me, Morris! I am choking! I am—yes—I am—going to -faint!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was the first time Katy had put the great horror in -words addressed to another, and the act of doing so made -it more appalling, and with a moan she sank back among -the pillows of the couch, while Morris tried to comprehend -the strange words he had heard, “I am not Wilford’s -wife, for he had another before me,—a wife in Italy,—who -is not dead.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Dr. Morris was thoroughly a man, and though much of -his sinful nature had been subdued, there was enough left -to make his heart rise and fall with great throbs of joy as -he thought of Katy <em>free</em>, even though that freedom were -bought at the expense of dire disgrace to others, and of -misery to her. But only for a moment did he feel thus—only -till he knelt beside the pallid face with the dark -rings beneath the eyes, and saw the faint, quivering motion -around the lips, which told that she was not wholly -unconscious.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My poor little wounded bird,” he said, as pityingly as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_295'>295</span>if he had been her father, while much as a father might -kiss his suffering child, he kissed the forehead and the -eyelids where the tears began to gather.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy was not insensible, and the name by which he -called her, with the kisses that he gave, thawed the ice -around her heart and brought a flood of tears, which -Morris wiped away, lifting her gently up and pillowing -her hot head upon his arm, while she moaned like a weary -child.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It rests me so just to see you, Morris. May I go -back with you, as your housekeeper, instead of Mrs. -Hull;—that is, if I am not his wife? The world might -despise me, but you would know I was not to blame. I -should go nowhere but to the farm-house, to church, and -baby’s grave. Poor baby! I am glad God gave her to -me, even if I am not Wilford’s wife; and I am glad now -that she died.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was talking to herself rather than to Morris, who, -smoothing back her hair and chafing her cold hands, -said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My poor child, you have passed through some agitating -scene. Are you able now to tell me all about it, -and what you mean by another wife?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a shiver, and the white lips grew still whiter -as Katy began her story, going back to St. Mary’s churchyard -and then coming to her first night in New York, -when Juno had told her of a picture and asked her -whose it was. Then she told of Wilford’s admission of -an earlier love, who, he said, was dead; of the trouble -about the baby’s name, and his aversion to Genevra; but -when she approached the dinner at the elder Cameron’s, -her lip quivered in a grieved kind of way as she remembered -what Wilford had said of <em>her</em> to his mother, but -she would not tell this to Morris,—it was not necessary -to her story,—and so she said, “They were talking of -what I ought never to have heard, and it seemed as if -the walls were closing me in so I could not move to let -them know I was there. I said to myself, ‘I shall go -mad after this,’ and I thought of you all coming to see -me in the mad-house, your kind face, Morris, coming up -distinctly before me, just as it would look at me if I were -<span class='pageno' id='Page_296'>296</span>really crazed. But all this was swept away like a hurricane -when I heard the rest, the part about <em>Genevra</em>, -Wilford’s other wife.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy was panting for breath, but she went on with the -story, which made Morris clench his hands as he comprehended -the deceit which had been practiced so long. -Of course he did not look at it as Katy did, for he knew -that according to all civil law she was as really Wilford’s -wife as if no other had existed, and he told her so, but -Katy shook her head. “He can’t have two wives living. -And I tell you I knew the picture—<em>Genevra is not dead</em>, -I have seen her; I have talked with her,—Genevra is not -dead.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Granted that she is not,” Morris answered, “the -divorce remains the same.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I do not believe in divorces. Whom God hath joined -together let not man put asunder,” Katy said with an air -which implied that from this argument there could be no -appeal.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That is the Scripture, I know,” Morris replied, “but -you must know that for one sin our Saviour permitted a -man to put away his wife, thus making it perfectly right.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But in Genevra’s case the sin did not exist. She -was as innocent as I am, and that must make a difference.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was very earnest in her attempts to prove that -Genevra was still a lawful wife, so earnest that a dark suspicion -entered Morris’s mind, finding vent in the question, -“Katy, don’t you love your husband, that you try -so hard to prove he is not yours?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There were red spots all over Katy’s face and neck as -she saw the meaning put upon her actions, and, covering -her face with her hands, she sobbed violently as she replied, -“I do, oh, yes, I do! I never loved any one else. -I would have died for him once. Maybe I would die for -him now; but, Morris, he is disappointed in me. Our -tastes are not alike, and we made a great mistake, or Wilford -did when he took me for his wife. I was better -suited to most anybody else, and I have been so wicked -since, forgetting all the good I ever knew, forgetting -prayer save as I went through the form from old habit’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_297'>297</span>sake; forgetting God, who has punished me so sorely -that every nerve smarts with the stinging blows.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Oh, how lovingly, how earnestly Morris talked to Katy -then, telling her of Him who smites but to heal, who -chastens not in anger, and would lead the lost one back -into the quiet fold where there was perfect peace.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And Katy, listening eagerly, with her great blue eyes -fixed upon his face, felt that to experience that of which -he talked, was worth more than all the world beside. -Gradually, too, there stole over her the <em>rest</em> she always -felt with him—the indescribable feeling which prompted -her to care for nothing except to do just what he bade -her do, knowing it was right; so when he said to her, -“You cannot go home with me, Katy; your duty is to -remain here in your husband’s house,” she offered no remonstrance. -Indeed, Morris doubted if she fully understood -him, she looked so sick and appeared so strange.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It is not safe for you to be alone. Esther must stay -with you,” he continued, feeling her rapid pulse -and noticing the alternate flushing and paling of her -cheek.</p> - -<p class='c011'>A fever was coming on, he feared, and summoning -Esther to the room, he said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Your mistress is very sick. You must stay with her -till morning, and if she grows worse, let me know. I -shall be in the library.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then, with a few directions with regard to the medicine -he fortunately had with him, he left the chamber, -and repaired to the library below, where he spent the -few remaining hours of the night, pondering on the -strange story he had heard, and praying for poor Katy -whose heart had been so sorely wounded.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The quick-witted Esther saw that something was wrong, -and traced it readily to Wilford, whose exacting nature -she thoroughly understood. She had not been blind during -the two years and a half she had been Katy’s maid, -and no impatient word of Wilford’s, or frown upon his -face, had escaped her when occurring in her presence, -while Katy’s uniform sweetness and entire submission -to his will had been noted as well, so that in Esther’s -opinion Wilford was a domestic tyrant, and Katy was an -<span class='pageno' id='Page_298'>298</span>angel. Numerous were her conjectures as to the cause -of the present trouble, which must be something serious, -or Katy had never telegraphed for Dr. Grant, as she felt -certain she had.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Whatever it is, I’ll stand her friend,” she said, as she -bent over her young mistress, who was talking of Genevra -and the grave at St. Mary’s, which was no grave at all.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was growing worse very rapidly, and frightened at -last at the wildness of her eyes, and her constant ravings, -Esther went down to Morris, and bade him come -quickly to Mrs. Cameron.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She is taken out of her head, and talks so queer and -raving.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Morris had expected this, but he was not prepared to -find the fever so high, or the symptoms so alarming.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Shall I send for Mrs. Cameron and another doctor, -please?” Esther asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Morris had faith in himself, and he would rather no -other hand should minister to Katy; but he knew he -could not stay there long, for there were those at home -who needed his services. Added to this, her family physician -might know her constitution, now, better than he -knew it, and so he answered that it would be well to send -for both the doctor and Mrs. Cameron.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was just daylight when Mrs. Cameron arrived, questioning -Esther closely, and appearing much surprised -when she heard of Dr. Grant’s presence in the house. -That he came by chance, she never doubted, and as -Esther merely answered the questions put directly to her, -Mrs. Cameron had no suspicion of the telegram.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am glad he happened here at this time,” she said. -“I have the utmost confidence in his skill. Still it may -be well for Dr. Craig to see her. I think that is his -ring.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The city and country physicians agreed exactly with -regard to Katy’s illness, or rather the city physician -bowed in acquiescence when Morris said to him that the -fever raging so high had, perhaps, been induced by natural -causes, but was greatly aggravated by some sudden shock -to the nervous system. This was before Mrs. Cameron -came up, but it was repeated in her presence by Dr. Craig, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_299'>299</span>who thus left the impression that the idea had originated -with himself, rather than with Dr. Grant, as perhaps he -thought it had. He was at first inclined to patronize the -country doctor, but soon found that he had reckoned without -his host. Morris knew more of Katy, and quite as -much of medicine as he did himself, and when Mrs. -Cameron begged him to stay longer, he answered that her -son’s wife was as safe in his brother physician’s hands as -she could be in his.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mrs. Cameron was very glad that Dr. Grant was there, -she said. It was surely Providence who sent him to New -York on that particular day, and Morris shivered as he -wondered if it were wrong not to explain the whole to -her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Perhaps it is best she should not know of the telegram,” -he thought, and merely bowing to her remarks, -he turned to Katy, who was growing very restless and -moaning as if in pain.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It hurts,” she said, turning her head from side to -side; “I am lying on Genevra.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>With a sudden start, Mrs. Cameron drew nearer, but -when she remembered the little grave at Silverton, she -said, “It’s the baby she’s talking about.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Morris knew better, and as Katy still continued to -move her head as if something were really hurting her, -he passed his hand under her pillow and drew out the -picture she must have kept near her as long as her consciousness -remained. He knew it was Genevra’s picture, -and was about to lay it away, when the cover dropped -into his hand, and his eye fell upon a face which was not -new to him, while an involuntary exclamation of surprise -escaped him, as Katy’s assertion that Genevra was -living was thus fully confirmed. Marian had not changed -past recognition since her early girlhood, and Morris knew -the likeness at once, pitying Katy more than he had pitied -her yet, as he remembered how closely Marian Hazelton -had been interwoven with her married life, and the life -of the little child which had borne her name.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What is that?” Mrs. Cameron asked, and Morris -passed the case to her, saying, “A picture which was -under Katy’s pillow.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_300'>300</span>Morris did not look at Mrs. Cameron, but tried to -busy himself with the medicines upon the stand, while -she too recognized Genevra Lambert, wondering how it -came in Katy’s possession and how much she knew of -Wilford’s secret.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She must have been rummaging,” she thought, and -then as she remembered what Esther had said about her -mistress appearing sick and unhappy, when her husband -left home, she repaired to the parlor and summoning -Esther to her presence, asked her again, “When she first -observed traces of indisposition in Mrs. Cameron.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“When she came home from that dinner at your house. -She was just as pale as death, and her teeth fairly chattered -as I took off her things.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Dinner? What dinner?” Mrs. Cameron asked, and -Esther replied, “Why, the night Mr. Wilford went away -or was to go. She changed her mind about meeting him -at your house, and said she meant to surprise him. But -she came home before Mr. Cameron, looking like a ghost, -and saying she was sick. It’s my opinion something she -ate at dinner hurt her.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Very likely, yes. You can go now,” Mrs. Cameron -said, and Esther departed, never dreaming how much light -she had inadvertently thrown upon the mystery.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She must have been in the library and heard all we -said,” Mrs. Cameron thought, as she nervously twisted -the fringe of her breakfast shawl. “I remember we talked -of Genevra, and that we both heard a strange sound from -some quarter, but thought it came from the kitchen. That -was Katy. She was there all the time and let herself -quietly out of the house. I wonder does Wilford know,” -and then there came over her an intense desire for Wilford -to come home—a desire which was not lessened when -she returned to Katy’s room and heard her talking of -Genevra and the grave at St. Mary’s “where nobody was -buried.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>In a tremor of distress, lest she should betray something -which Morris must not know Mrs. Cameron tried -to hush her, talking as if it was the baby she meant, but -Katy answered promptly, “It’s Genevra Lambert I mean, -Wilford’s other wife; the one across the sea. She was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_301'>301</span>innocent, too—as innocent as I, whom you both deceived.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Here was a phase of affairs for which Mrs. Cameron -was not prepared, and excessively mortified that Morris -should hear Katy’s ravings, she tried again to quiet her, -consoling herself with the reflection that as Morris was -Katy’s cousin, he would not repeat what he heard, and -feeling gratified now that Dr. Craig was absent, as she -could not be so sure of him. If Katy’s delirium continued, -no one must be admitted to the room except those -who could be trusted, and as there had been already -several rings, she said to Esther that as the fever was -probably malignant and contagious, no one must be admitted -to the house with the expectation of seeing the -patient, while the servants were advised to stay in their -own quarters, except as their services might be needed -elsewhere. And so it was that by the morrow the news -had spread of some infectious disease at No. —— on Madison -Square, which was shunned as carefully as if smallpox -itself had been raging there instead of the brain fever, -which increased so fast that Morris suggested to Mrs. -Cameron that she telegraph for Wilford.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“They might find him, and they might not,” Mother -Cameron said. “They could try, at all events,” and in a -few moments the telegraphic wires were carrying the -news of Katy’s illness, both to the west, where Wilford -had gone, and to the east, where Helen read with a -blanched cheek that Katy perhaps was dying, and she -must hasten to New York.</p> - -<p class='c011'>This was Mrs. Cameron’s suggestion, wrung out by the -knowing that some woman besides herself was needed in -the sick room, and by feeling that Helen could be trusted -with the story of the first marriage, which Katy talked of -constantly, telling it so accurately that only a fool would -fail of being convinced that there was much of truth in -those delirious ravings.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_302'>302</span> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXXVI.<br> <span class='large'>THE FEVER AND ITS RESULTS.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Wilford could not forget Katy’s face, so full of reproach. -It followed him continually, and was the magnet -which turned his steps homeward before his business was -quite done, and before the telegram had found him. Thus -it was with no knowledge of existing circumstances that -he reached New York just at the close of the day, and -ordering a carriage, was driven rapidly towards home. -All the shutters in the front part of the house were -closed, and not a ray of light was to be seen in the parlors -as he entered the hall, where the gas was burning -dimly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Katy is at home,” he said, as he went into the library, -where a shawl was thrown across a chair, as if some one -had lately been there.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was his mother’s shawl, and Wilford was wondering -if she was there, when down the stairs came a man’s -rapid step, and the next moment Dr. Grant came into the -room, starting when he saw Wilford, who felt intuitively -that something was wrong.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is Katy sick?” was his first question, which Morris -answered in the affirmative, holding him back as he was -starting for her room, and saying to him, “Let me send -your mother to you first.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>What passed between Wilford and his mother was -never known exactly, but at the close of the interview -Mrs. Cameron was very pale, while Wilford’s face looked -dark and anxious as he said, “You think he understands -it then?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, in part, but the world will be none the wiser -for his knowledge. I knew Dr. Grant before you did, -and there are few men living whom I respect as much, -and no one whom I would trust as soon.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mrs. Cameron had paid a high compliment to Morris -<span class='pageno' id='Page_303'>303</span>Grant, and Wilford bowed in assent, asking next how -she managed Dr. Craig.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That was easy, inasmuch as he believed it an insane -freak of Katy’s to have no other physician than her cousin. -It was quite natural, he said, adding that she was as safe -with Dr. Grant as any one. And I was glad, for I could -not have a stranger know of that affair. You will go -up now,” Mrs. Cameron continued, and a moment after -Wilford stood in the dimly-lighted room, where Katy was -talking of Genevra and St. Mary’s, and was only kept -upon her pillow by the strong arm of Morris, who stood -over her when Wilford entered, trying in vain to quiet -her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She knew him, and writhing herself away from Morris’s -arms, she said to him, “Genevra is not in that grave at -St. Mary’s; she is living, and you are not my husband. -So you can leave the house at once. Morris will settle -the estate, and no bill shall be sent in for your board and -lodging.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>In some moods Wilford would have smiled at being thus -summarily dismissed from his own house; but he was too -sore now, too sensitive to smile, and his voice was rather -severe as he laid his hand on Katy’s and said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Don’t be foolish, Katy. Don’t you know me? I am -Wilford, your husband.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That <em>was</em>, you mean,” Katy rejoined, drawing her -hand quickly away. “Go find your first love, where bullets -fall like hail, and where there is pain, and blood, and -carnage. Genevra is there.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She would not let him come near her, and grew so excited -with his presence that he was forced either to leave -the room or sit where she could not see him. He chose -the latter, and from his seat by the door watched with a -half jealous, angry heart, Morris Grant doing for his wife -what he should have done.</p> - -<p class='c011'>With Morris Katy was gentle as a little child, talking -still of Genevra, but talking quietly, and in a way which -did not wear her out as fast as her excitement did.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What God hath joined together let not man put asunder,” -was the text from which she preached several short -sermons as the night wore on, but just as the morning -<span class='pageno' id='Page_304'>304</span>dawned she fell into the first quiet sleep she had had during -the last twenty-four hours. And while she slept -Wilford ventured near enough to see the sunken cheeks -and hollow eyes which wrung a groan from him as he -turned to Morris, and asked what he supposed was the -immediate cause of her sudden illness?</p> - -<p class='c011'>“A terrible shock, the nature of which I understand, -but you have nothing to fear from me,” Morris replied. -“I accuse you to no man, but leave you to settle it with -your conscience whether you did right to deceive her so -long.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Morris spoke as one having authority, and Wilford -simply bowed his head, feeling no resentment towards -one who had ventured to reprove him. Afterwards he -might remember it differently, but now he was too anxious -to keep Morris there to quarrel with him, and so he -made no reply, but sat watching Katy as she slept, wondering -if she would die, and feeling how terrible life -would be without her. Suddenly Genevra’s warning words -rang in his ear.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“God will not forgive you for the wrong you have done -me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Was Genevra right? Had God remembered all this -time, and overtaken him at last? It might be, and with -a groan Wilford hid his face in his hands, believing that -he repented of his sin, and not knowing that his fancied -repentance arose merely from the fact that he had been -detected. Could the last few days be blotted out, and -Katy stand just where she did, with no suspicion of him, -he would have cast his remorse to the winds, and as it is -not such repentance God accepts, Wilford had only begun -to sip the cup of retribution presented to his lips.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Worn out with watching and waiting, Mrs. Cameron, -who would suffer neither Juno nor Bell to come near the -house, waited uneasily for the arrival of the New Haven -train, which she hoped would bring Helen to her aid. -Under ordinary circumstances she would rather not have -met her, for her presence would keep the letter so constantly -in mind; but now anybody who could be trusted -was welcome, and when at last there came a cautious ring, -she went herself to the hall, starting back with undisguised -<span class='pageno' id='Page_305'>305</span>vexation when she saw the timid-looking woman -following close behind Helen, and whom the latter presented -as “My mother, Mrs. Lennox.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Convinced that Morris’s sudden journey to New York -had something to do with Katy’s illness, and almost distracted -with fears for her daughter’s life, Mrs. Lennox -could not remain at home and wait for the tardy mail or -careless telegraph. She must go to her child, and casting -off her dread of Wilford’s displeasure, she had come -with Helen, and was bowing meekly to Mrs. Cameron, -who neither offered her hand nor gave any token of greeting -except a distant bow and a simple “Good morning, -madam.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Mrs. Lennox was too anxious to notice the lady’s -haughty manner as she led them to the library and then -went for her son. Wilford was not glad to see his mother-in-law, -but he tried to be polite, answering her questions -civilly, and when she asked if it were true that he had -sent for Morris, assuring her that it was not. “Dr. -Grant happened here very providentially, and I hope to -keep him until the crisis is past, although he has just told -me he must go back to-morrow.” It hurt Wilford’s pride -that <em>she</em>, whom he considered greatly his inferior, should -learn his secret; but it could not now be helped, and -within an hour after her arrival she was looking curiously -at him for an explanation of the strange things she heard -from Katy’s lips.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“<em>Was</em> you a widower when you married my daughter?” -she said to him, when at last Helen left the room and -she was alone with him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, madam,” he replied, “some would call me so, -though I was divorced from my wife. As this was a matter -which did not in any way concern your daughter, I -deemed it best not to tell her. Latterly she has found it -out, and it is having a very extraordinary effect upon -her.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And this was all Mrs. Lennox knew until alone with -Helen, who told her the story as she had heard it from -Morris. His sudden journey to New York was thus accounted -for, and Helen explained it to her mother, advising -her to say nothing of it, as it might be better for -<span class='pageno' id='Page_306'>306</span>Wilford not to know that Katy had telegraphed for Morris. -It seemed very necessary that Dr. Grant should return -to Silverton, and the day following Helen’s arrival -in New York, he made arrangements to do so.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You have other physicians here,” he said to Wilford, -who objected to his leaving. “Dr. Craig will do as -well as I.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford admitted that he might, but it was with a sinking -heart that he saw Morris depart, and then went to -Katy, who began to grow very restless and uneasy, bidding -him go away and send Dr. Morris back. It was in -vain that they administered the medicine just as Morris -directed. Katy grew constantly worse, until Mrs. Lennox -asked that another doctor be called. But to this Wilford -would not listen. Fear of exposure and censure was -stronger than his fears for Katy’s life, which seemed -balancing upon a thread as that long night and the next -day went by. Three times Wilford telegraphed for Morris, -and it was with unfeigned joy that he welcomed him -back at last, and heard that he had so arranged his business -as to stay with Katy while the danger lasted.</p> - -<p class='c011'>With a monotonous sameness the days now came and -went, people still shunning the house as if the plague was -there. Once, Bell Cameron came round to call on Helen, -holding her breath as she passed through the hall, and -never asking to go near Katy’s room. Two or three times, -too, Mrs. Banker’s carriage stood at the door, and Mrs. -Banker herself came in, appearing so cool and distant that -Helen could scarcely keep back her tears as she guessed -the cause. Mark, too, was in the city, having returned -with the Seventh Regiment; but from Esther, Helen -learned that he was about joining the army as captain of a -company, composed of the finest men in the city. The -next she heard was from Mrs. Banker, who, incidentally, -remarked, “I shall be very lonely now that Mark is gone. -He left me to-day for Washington.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There were tears on the mother’s face, and her lip -quivered as she tried to keep them back, by looking from -the window into the street, instead of at her companion, -who, overcome with the rush of feeling which swept over -her, laid her face on the sofa arm and sobbed aloud.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_307'>307</span>“Why, Helen! Miss Lennox, I am surprised! I had -supposed—I was not aware—I did not think you would -care,” Mrs. Banker exclaimed, coming closer to Helen, -who stammered out, “I beg you will excuse me, I cannot -help it. I care for <em>all</em> our soldiers. It seems so terrible.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>At the words “I care for <em>all</em> the soldiers,” a shadow of -disappointment flitted over Mrs. Banker’s face. She knew -her son had offered himself and been refused, as she supposed; -and she believed too that Helen had given publicity -to the affair, fueling justly indignant at this breach -of confidence and lack of delicacy in one whom she had -liked so much, and whom she still liked, in spite of the -wounded pride which had prompted her to appear so cold -and distant.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Perhaps it is all a mistake,” she thought, as she continued -standing by Helen, “or it may be she has relented,” -and for a moment she felt tempted to ask why -her boy had been refused.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Mark would not be pleased with her interference, -she knew, and so the golden moment fled, and when she -left the house, the misunderstanding between herself and -Helen was just as wide as ever. Wearily after that the -days passed with Helen until all thoughts of herself were -forgotten in the terrible fear that death was really brooding -over the pillow where Katy lay, insensible to all that -was passing around her. The lips were silent now, and -Wilford had nothing to fear from the tongue hitherto so -busy. Juno, Bell, and father Cameron all came to see -her, dropping tears upon the face looking so old and -worn with suffering. Mrs. Cameron, too, was very sorry, -very sad, but managed to find some consolation in mentally -arranging a grand funeral, which would do honor -to her son, and wondering if “those Barlows in Silverton -would think they must attend.” And while she thus -arranged, the mother who had given birth to Katy wrestled -in earnest prayer that God would spare her child, or at -least grant some space in which she might be told of the -world to which she was hastening. What Wilford suffered -none could guess. His face was very white, and -its expression almost stern, as he sat by the young wife -who had been his for little more than two brief years, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_308'>308</span>and who, but for his sin, might not have been lying there, -unconscious of the love and grief around her. With lip -compressed, and brows firmly knit together, Morris, too, -sat watching Katy, feeling for the pulse, and bending -his ear to catch the faintest breath which came from her -parted lips, while in his heart there was an earnest prayer -for the safety of the soul, hovering so evenly between this -world and the next. He did not ask that she might live, -for if all were well hereafter he knew it was better for her -to die in her young womanhood, than to live till the -heart, now so sad and bleeding, had grown calloused with -sorrow. And yet it was terrible to think of Katy dead; -terrible to think of that face and form laid away beneath -the turf of Greenwood, where those who loved her best -could seldom go to weep.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And as they sat there thus, the night shadows stole into -the room, and the hours crept on till from a city tower -a clock struck <em>ten</em>, and Morris, motioning Helen to his -side, bade her go with her mother to rest. “We do not -need you here,” he said; “your presence can do no good. -Should a change occur, you shall be told at once.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Thus importuned, Helen and her mother withdrew, and -only Morris and Wilford remained to watch that heavy -slumber, so nearly resembling death.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXXVII.<br> <span class='large'>THE CONFESSION.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Gradually, the noise in the streets died away; the -tread of feet, the rumbling wheels, and the tinkle of car -bells ceased, and not a sound was heard, save as the distant -fire bells pealed forth their warning voices, or some -watchman went hurrying by. The great city was asleep, -and to Morris the silence brooding over the countless -throng was deeper, more solemn, than the silence of the -country, where nature gives out her own mysterious notes -and lullabies for her sleeping children. Slowly the minutes -went by, and Morris became at last aware that Wilford’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_309'>309</span>eyes, instead of resting on the pallid face, which seemed -to grow each moment more pallid and ghastly, were fixed -on <em>him</em> with an expression which made him drop the pale -hand he was holding between his own, <em>pooring</em> it occasionally, -as a mother might <em>poor</em> and pity the hand of her -dying baby.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Before his marriage, a jealous thought of Morris Grant -had found a lodgment in Wilford’s breast; but he had -tried to drive it out, and fancied that he had succeeded, -experiencing a sudden shock when he felt it lifting its -green head, and poisoning his mind against the man who -was doing for Katy only what a brother might do. He -forgot that it was his own entreaties which kept Morris -there, away from his Silverton patients, who were missing -him so much, and complaining of his absence. Jealous -men never reason clearly, and in this case, Wilford did -not reason at all, but jumped readily at his conclusion, -calling to his aid as proof all that he had ever seen pass -between Katy and her cousin. That Morris Grant loved -Katy was, after a few moments’ reflection, as fixed a fact -in his mind, as that she lay there between them, moaning -feebly, as if about to speak. Years before, 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. There -was a clenching of his fist, a knitting of his brows, and -a gathering blackness in his eyes as he listened while -Katy, rousing partially from her lethargy, talked of the -days when she was a little girl, and Morris had built the -play-house for her by the brook, where the thorn-apples -grew and the waters fell over the smooth, white rocks.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Take me back there,” she said, “and let me lie on -the grass again. It is so long since I was there, and I’ve -suffered so much since then. Wilford meant to be kind, -but he did not understand or know how I loved the -country with its birds and flowers and the grass by the -well, where the shadows come and go. I used to wonder -where they were going, and one day when I watched them -I was waiting for Wilford and wondering if he would -ever come again. Would it have been better if he never -had?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_310'>310</span>Wilford’s body shook as he bent forward to listen, while -Katy continued:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Were there no Genevra, I should not think so, but -there is, and yet Morris said that made no difference -when I telegraphed for him to come and take me -away.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Morris felt keenly the awkwardness of his position, but -he could offer no explanation then. He could not speak -with those fiery eyes upon him, and he sat erect in his -chair, while Katy talked of Silverton, until her voice -grew very faint, ceasing at last as she fell into a second -sleep, heavier, more death-like, than the first. Something -in her face alarmed Morris, and in spite of the eyes -watching him he bent every energy to retain the feeble -pulse, and the breath which grew shorter with each respiration.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do you think her dying?” Wilford asked, and Morris -replied, “The look about the mouth and nose is like -the look which so often precedes death.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And that was all they said until another hour went by, -when Morris’s hand was laid upon the forehead and -moved up under the golden hair where there were drops -of perspiration.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She is saved! thank God, Katy is saved!” was his -joyful exclamation, and burying his face in his hands, -he wept for a moment like a child.</p> - -<p class='c011'>On Wilford’s face there was no trace of tears. On the -contrary, he seemed hardening into stone, and in his -heart fierce passions were contending for the mastery. -What did Katy mean by sending for Morris to take her -away? Did she send for him, and was that the cause of -his being there? If so, there was something between -the cousins more than mere friendship. The thought was -a maddening one. And, rising slowly at last, Wilford -came round to Morris’s side, and grasping his shoulder, -said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Morris Grant, you love Katy Cameron.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Like the peal of a bell on the frosty air the words rang -through the room, starting Morris from his bowed attitude, -and for an instant curdling the blood in his veins, -for he understood now the meaning of the look which -<span class='pageno' id='Page_311'>311</span>had so puzzled him. In Morris’s heart there was a moment’s -hesitancy to know just what to answer—an ejaculatory -prayer for guidance—and then lifting up his head, -his calm blue eyes met the eyes of black unflinchingly as -he replied,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have loved her always.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>A blaze like sheet lightning shot from beneath Wilford’s -eyelashes, and a taunting sneer curled his lip as he said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“<em>You</em>, a <em>saint</em>, confess to this?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was in keeping with human nature for Wilford to -thrust Morris’s religion in his face, forgetting that never -on this side the eternal world can man cease wholly to -sin; that so long as flesh and blood remain, there will be -temptation, error, and wrong, even among God’s children. -Morris felt the sneer keenly; but the consciousness -of peace with his Maker sustained him in the shock, -and with the same tone he had at first assumed, he -said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Should my being what you call a saint prevent my -confessing what I did?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, not the confession, but the fact,” Wilford answered, -savagely. “How do you reconcile your acknowledged -love for Katy with the injunctions of the Bible -whose doctrines you indorse?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“A man cannot always control his feelings, but he -can strive to overcome them and put them aside. One -does not sin in <em>being</em> tempted, but in listening <em>to</em> the temptation.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Then according to your own reasoning you have -sinned, for you not only have been tempted but have -yielded to the temptation,” Wilford retorted, with a sinister -look of exultation in his black eyes.</p> - -<p class='c011'>For a moment Morris was silent, while a struggle of -some kind seemed going on in his mind, and then he -said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I never thought to lay open to you a secret which, -after myself, is, I believe, known to only one living being.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And that one—is—is Katy?” Wilford exclaimed, his -voice hoarse with passion, and his eyes flashing with fire.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, not Katy. She has no suspicion of the pain -<span class='pageno' id='Page_312'>312</span>which, since I saw her made another’s, has eaten into my -heart, making me grow old so fast, and blighting my -early manhood.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Something in Morris’s tone and manner made Wilford -relax his grasp upon the arm, and sent him back to his -chair while Morris continued,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Most men would shrink from talking to a husband -of the love they bore his wife, and an hour ago I should -have shrunk from it too, but you have forced me to it, and -now you must listen while I tell you of my love for Katy. -It began longer ago than she can remember—began when -she was my baby sister, and I hushed her in my arms to -sleep, kneeling by her cradle and watching her with a -feeling I have never been able to define. She was in all -my thoughts, her face upon the printed page of every book -I studied, and her voice in every strain of music I ever -heard. Then when she grew older, I used to watch the -frolicsome child by the hour, building castles of the future, -when she would be a woman, and I a man, with a -man’s right to win her. I know that she shielded me -from many a snare into which young men are apt to -fall, for when the temptation was greatest, and I was at -its verge, a thought of her was sufficient to lead me back -to virtue. I carried her in my heart across the sea, and -said when I go back I will ask her to be mine. I went -back, but at my first meeting with Katy after her return -from Canandaigua, she told me of <em>you</em>, and I knew then -that hope for me was gone. God grant that you may -never experience what I experienced on that day which -made her your wife, and I saw her go away. It seemed -almost as if God had forgotten me as the night after the -bridal I sat alone at home, and met that dark hour of -sorrow. In the midst of it <em>Helen</em> came, discovering my -secret, and sympathizing with me until the pain at my -heart grew less, and I could pray that God would grant -me a feeling for Katy which should not be sinful. And -He did at last, so I could think of her without a wish that -she was mine. Times there were when the old love would -burst forth with fearful power, and then I wished that I -might die. These were my moments of temptation which -<span class='pageno' id='Page_313'>313</span>I struggled to overcome. Sometimes a song, a strain of -music, or a ray of moonlight on the floor would bring the -past to me so vividly that I would stagger beneath the -burden, and feel that it was greater than I could bear. -But God was very merciful, and sent me work which took -up all my time, and drove me away from my own pain -to soothe the pain of others. When Katy came to us -last summer there was an hour of trial, when faith in God -grew weak, and I was tempted to question the justice of -His dealing with me. But that too passed, and in my -love for your child I forgot the mother in part, looking -upon her as a sister rather than the Katy I had loved -so well. I would have given my life to have saved that -child for her, even though it was a bar between us, something -which separated her from me more than the words -she spoke at the altar. Though dead, that baby is still a -bar, and Katy is not the same to me she was before that -little life came into being. It is not wrong to love her -as I do now. I feel no pang of conscience save when -something unexpected carries me back to the old ground -where I have fought so many battles.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Morris paused a moment, while Wilford said, “She -spoke of telegraphing for you. Why was that, and -when?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Thus interrogated, Morris told of the message which -had brought him to New York, and narrated as cautiously -as possible the particulars of the interview which followed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Morris’s manner was that of a man who spoke with -perfect sincerity, and it carried conviction to Wilford’s -heart, disarming him for a time of the fierce anger and -resentment he had felt while listening to Morris’s story. -Acting upon the good impulse of the moment, he arose, -and offering his hand to Morris, said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Forgive me that I ever doubted you. It was natural -that you should come, but foolish in Katy to send or -think Genevra is living. I have seen her grave myself. I -know that she is dead. Did Katy name any one whom -she believed to be Genevra?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No one. She merely said she had seen the original -of the picture,” Morris replied.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_314'>314</span>“A fancy,—a mere whim,” Wilford muttered to himself, -as, greatly disquieted and terribly humbled, he paced -the room moodily, trying not to think hard thoughts -either against his wife or Dr. Grant, who, feeling that it -would be pleasanter for Wilford if he were gone, suggested -returning to Silverton at once, inasmuch as the -crisis was past and Katy out of danger. There was a -struggle in Wilford’s mind as to the answer he should -make to this suggestion, but at last he signified his -willingness for the doctor to leave when he thought -best.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was broad day when Katy woke, so weak as to be -unable to turn her head upon the pillow, but in her eyes -the light of reason was shining, and she glanced wonderingly, -first at Helen, who had come in, and then at -Wilford, as if trying to comprehend what had happened.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Have I been sick?” she asked in a whisper, and Wilford, -bending over her, replied, “Yes, very sick for nearly -two whole weeks—ever since I left home that morning, -you know?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” and Katy shivered a little. “Yes, I know. -But where is Morris? He was here the last I can remember.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford’s face grew dark at once, and stepping back as -Morris came in, he said, “She asks for you.” Then with -a rising feeling of resentment he watched them, while -Morris spoke to Katy, telling her she must not allow herself -in any way to be excited.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Have I been crazy? Have I talked much?” she -asked; and when Morris replied in the affirmative, she -said, “Of whom have I talked most?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Of <em>Genevra</em>,” was the answer, and Katy continued,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Did I mention any one else?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Morris guessed of whom she was thinking, and answered -indifferently, “You spoke of Miss Hazelton in connection -with baby, but that was all.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy was satisfied, and closing her eyes fell away to -sleep again, while Morris made his preparations for leaving. -It hardly seemed right for him to go just then, but -the only one who could have kept him maintained a -frigid silence with regard to a longer stay, and so the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_315'>315</span>first train which left New York for Springfield carried -Dr. Grant, and Katy was without a physician.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford had hoped that Mrs. Lennox, too, would see -the propriety of accompanying Morris, but she would not -leave Katy, and Wilford was fain to submit to what he -could not help. No explanation whatever had he given -to Mrs. Lennox or Helen with regard to Genevra. He -was too proud for that, but his mother had deemed it -wise to smooth the matter over as much as possible, and -enjoin upon them both the necessity of secrecy.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“When I tell you that neither my husband nor daughters -know it, you will understand that I am greatly in -earnest in wishing it kept,” she said. “It was a most -unfortunate affair, and though the divorce is, of course, -to be lamented, it is better that she died. We never could -have received her as our equal.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Was anything the matter, except that she was poor?” -Mrs. Lennox asked, with as much dignity as was in her -nature to assume.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, no. She had a good education, I believe, and -was very pretty; but it makes trouble always where there -is a great inequality between a husband’s family and that -of his wife.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Poor Mrs. Lennox understood this perfectly, but she -was too much afraid of the great lady to venture a reply, -and a tear rolled down her cheek as she wet the napkin -for Katy’s head, and wished she had back again the -daughter whose family the Camerons despised. The atmosphere -of Madison Square did not suit Mrs. Lennox, -especially when, as the days went by and Katy began to -amend, troops of gay ladies called, mistaking her for the -nurse, and staring a little curiously when told she was -Mrs. Cameron’s mother. Of course Wilford chafed and -fretted at what he could not help, making himself so generally -disagreeable that Helen at last suggested returning -home. There was a faint remonstrance on his part, but -Helen did not waver in her decision, and the next day -was fixed upon for her departure.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You don’t know how I dread your going, or how -wretched I shall be without you,” Katy said, when for a -few moments they were alone. “Everything which once -<span class='pageno' id='Page_316'>316</span>made me happy has been removed or changed. Baby is -dead, and Wilford, oh! Helen, I sometimes wish I had -not heard of Genevra, for I am afraid it can never be -with us as it was once; I have not the same trust in him, -and he seems so changed.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>As well as she could, Helen comforted her sister, and -commending her to One who would care for her far more -than earthly friends could do, she bade her good-bye, and -with her mother went back to Silverton.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXXVIII.<br> <span class='large'>DOMESTIC TROUBLES.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Wilford was in a most unhappy frame of mind. He -had been humbled to the very dust, and it was Katy who -had done it—Katy, towards whom his heart kept hardening -as he thought over all the past. What right had she -to go to his mother’s after having once declined; or, being -there, what right had she to listen and thus learn -the secret he would almost have died to keep; or, having -learned it, why need she have been so much excited, and -sent for <em>Dr. Grant</em> to tell her if she were really a wife, -and if not to take her away? That was the point which -hurt him most, for added to it was the galling fact that -Morris Grant loved his wife, and was undoubtedly more -worthy of her than himself. He had said that he forgave -Morris, and at the time he said it he fancied he -did, but as the days went by, and thought was all the -busier from the moody silence he maintained, there gradually -came to life a feeling of hatred for the man whose -name he could not hear without a frown, while he watched -Katy closely to detect, if possible, some sign by which -he should know that Morris’s love was reciprocated. But -Katy was innocence itself, and tried so hard to do her -duty as a wife, going often to the Friend of whom Helen -had told her, and finding there the grace which helped -her bear what otherwise she could not have borne and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_317'>317</span>lived. The entire history of her life during that wretched -winter was never told save as it was written on her face, -which was a volume in itself of meek and patient suffering.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford had never mentioned Genevra to her since the -day of his return, and Katy sometimes felt it would be -well to talk that matter over. It might lead to a better -understanding than existed between them now, and dissipate -the cloud which hung so darkly on their domestic -horizon. But Wilford repulsed all her advances on that -subject, and Genevra was a dead name in their household. -Times there were when for an entire day he would appear -like his former self, caressing her with unwonted tenderness, -but never asked her forgiveness for all he had made -her suffer. He was too proud to do that, and his tenderness -always passed away when he remembered Morris -Grant and Katy’s remark to Helen which he accidentally -overheard. “I am afraid it can never be with us as it -was once. I have not the same trust in him.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She had no right to complain of me,” he thought, forgetting -the time when he had been guilty of a similar -offence in a more aggravated form. He could not reason -upon anything naturally, and matters grew daily worse, -while Katy’s face grew whiter and her voice sadder in its -tone.</p> - -<p class='c011'>When the Lenten days came on, oh how Katy longed to -be in Silverton—to kneel again in its quiet church, and -offer up her penitential prayers with the loved ones at -home. At last she ventured to ask Wilford if she might -go, her spirits rising when he did not refuse her request -at once, but asked,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Whom do you wish to see the most?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>His black eyes seemed reading her through, and something -in their expression brought to her face the blush -he construed according to his jealousy, and when she answered, -“I wish to see them all,” he retorted,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Say, rather, you wish to see <em>that doctor</em>, who has -loved you so long, and who but for me would have asked -you to be his wife!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What doctor, Wilford? whom do you mean?” she -asked, and Wilford replied,</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_318'>318</span>“Dr. Grant, of course. Did you never suspect it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Never,” and Katy’s face grew very white, while Wilford -continued,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I had it from his own lips; he sitting on one side of -you and I upon the other. I so forgot myself as to charge -him with loving you, and he did not deny it, but confessed -as pretty a piece of romance as I ever read, except -that, according to his story, it was a one-sided affair, -confined wholly to himself. <em>You</em> never dreamed of it, -he said.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Never, no never,” Katy said, panting for her breath, -and remembering suddenly many things which confirmed -what she had heard.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Poor Morris, how my thoughtlessness must have -wounded him,” she murmured, and then all the pent-up -passion in Wilford’s heart burst out in an impetuous -storm.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He did not charge his wife directly with returning -Morris’s love; but he said she was sorry she had not -known it earlier, asking her pointedly if it were not so, -and pressing her for an answer, until the bewildered -creature cried out,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, I don’t know. I never thought of it before.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But you can think of it now,” Wilford continued, his -cold, icy tone making Katy shiver, as, more to herself than -to him, she whispered,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“A life at Linwood with him would be perfect rest, -compared with <em>this</em>.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford had goaded her on to say that which roused -him to a pitch of frenzy.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You can go to your <em>rest</em> at Linwood as soon as you -like, and I will go my way,” he whispered hoarsely, and -believing himself the most injured man in existence, he -left the house, and Katy heard his step, as it went furiously -down the steps. For a time she sat stunned with -what she had heard, and then there came stealing into -her heart a glad feeling that Morris deemed her worthy -of his love when she had so often feared the contrary. -And in this she was not faithless to Wilford. She could -pray with just as pure a heart as before, and she did -pray, thanking God for the love of this good man, but -<span class='pageno' id='Page_319'>319</span>asking that long ere this he might have learned to be -content without her. Never once did the thought “It -might have been,” intrude itself upon her, nor did she -send one regret after the life she had missed. She -seemed to rise above all that, and Wilford, had he read -her heart, would have found no evil there.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Poor Morris,” she kept repeating, while little throbs -of pleasure went dancing through her veins, and the -world was not one half so dreary for knowing he had -loved her. Towards Wilford, too, her heart went out in -a fresh gush of tenderness, for she knew how one of his -jealous nature must have suffered.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And all that day she was thinking of him, and how -pleasantly she would meet him when he came home at -night, and how she would try to win him from the dark -silent mood now so habitual to him. More than usual -pains she took with her toilet, arranging her bright hair -in the long, glossy curls, which she knew he used to admire, -and making sundry little changes in her black -dress. Excitement had brought a faint flush to her -cheeks, and she was conscious of a feeling of gratification -that for the first time in months she was looking -like her former self. Slowly the minutes crept on, and -the silver-toned clock in the dining-room said it was time -for Wilford to come; then the night shadows gathered in -the rooms, and the gas was lighted in the hall and in -the parlor, where Katy’s face was pressed against the -window pane, and Katy’s eyes peered anxiously out into -the darkening streets, but saw no one alighting at their -door. Wilford did not come. Neither six, nor seven, nor -eight brought him home, and Katy sat down alone to her -dinner, which, save the soup and coffee, was removed untasted. -She could not eat with the terrible dread at her -heart that this long protracted absence portended something -more than common. Ten, eleven, and twelve struck -from a distant tower. He <em>had</em> stayed out as late as that -frequently, but rarely later, and Katy listened again for -him, until the clock struck one, and she grew sick with -fear and apprehension. It was a long, long, wretched -night, but morning came at last, and at an early hour -Katy drove down to Wilford’s office, finding no one there -<span class='pageno' id='Page_320'>320</span>besides Tom Tubbs and Mills, the other clerk. Katy could -not conceal her agitation, and her face was very white -as she asked what time Mr. Cameron left the office the -previous day.</p> - -<p class='c011'>If Katy had one subject more loyal than another it was -young Tom Tubbs, whose boyish blood had often boiled -with rage at the cool manner with which Wilford treated -his wife, when, as she sometimes did, she came into the -office. Tom worshiped Katy Cameron, who, in his whispered -confidences to Mattie, was an angel, while Wilford -was accused of being an overbearing tyrant, whom Tom -would like to thrash. He saw at once, that something unusual -was troubling her, and hastening to bring her a -chair, told her that Mr. Cameron left the office about four -o’clock; that he had spent the most of the day in his -private office writing and looking over papers; that he -had given his clerks so many directions with regard to -certain matters, that Mills had remarked upon it, saying, -“It would seem as if he did not expect to be here to -see to it himself;” and this was all Katy could learn, -but it was enough to increase the growing terror at her -heart, and dropping her veil, she went out to her carriage, -followed by Tom, who adjusted the gay robe across -her lap, and then looked wistfully after her as she drove -up Broadway.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“To father Cameron’s,” she said to the driver, who -turned his horses towards Fifth Avenue, where, just coming -down the steps of his own house, they met the elder -Cameron.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy would rather see him first alone, and motioning -him to her side she whispered: “Oh, father, is Wilford -here?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Wilford be——”; the old man did not say what, for -the expression of Katy’s face startled him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>That there was something wrong, and father Cameron -knew it, was Katy’s conviction, and she gasped out,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Tell me the worst. Is Wilford dead?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Father Cameron was in the carriage by this time, and -riding towards Madison Square, for he did not care to -introduce Katy into his household, which, just at present, -presented a scene of dire confusion and dismay, occasioned -<span class='pageno' id='Page_321'>321</span>by a note received from Wilford to the intent that -he had left New York, and did not know when he should -return.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Katy can tell you why I go,” he added, and father -Cameron was going to Katy when she met him at his -door.</p> - -<p class='c011'>To Katy’s repeated question, “Is he dead?” he answered, -“Worse than that, I fear. He has left the city, -and no one knows for what, unless you do. From something -he wrote, my wife is led to suppose there was -trouble between you two. Was there?” and father Cameron’s -gray eyes rested earnestly on the white, frightened -face which looked up so quickly as Katy gasped,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“<em>There has</em> been trouble—that is, he has not appeared -quite the same since——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was interrupted by the carriage stopping before her -door; but when they were in the parlor, father Cameron -said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Go on now. Wilford has not been the same since -when?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Thus importuned, Katy continued,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Since baby died. I think he blamed me as the cause -of its death.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Don’t babies die every day?” father Cameron growled, -while Katy, without considering that he had never heard -of Genevra, continued,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And then it was worse after I found out about Genevra, -his first wife.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Genevra! Genevra, Wilford’s first wife! Thunder -and lightning! what are you talking about?” and father -Cameron bent down to look in Katy’s face, thinking she -was going mad.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Katy was not mad, and knowing it was now too -late to retract, she told the story of Genevra Lambert to -the old man, who, utterly confounded, stalked up and -down the room, kicking away chairs and footstools, and -whatever came in his way, and swearing promiscuously -at his wife and Wilford, whom he pronounced a precious -pair of fools, with a dreadful adjective appended to the -<em>fools</em>, and an emphasis in his voice which showed he -meant what he said.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_322'>322</span>“It’s all accounted for now,” he said; “the piles of -money that boy had abroad, his privacy with his mother, -and all the other tomfoolery I could not understand. -Katy,” and pausing in his walk, Mr. Cameron came close -to his daughter-in-law, who was lying with her face upon -the sofa. “Katy, be glad your baby died. Had it lived -it might have proved a curse, just as mine have done—not -all, for Bell, though fiery as a pepper-pod, has some -heart, some sense—and there was Jack, my <em>oldest</em> boy, -a little fast it’s true, but when he died over the sea, I -forgave all that, and forgot the chair he broke over a -tutor’s head, and the scrapes for which I paid as high as -a thousand at one time. He sowed his wild oats, and -died before he could reap them—died a good man, I believe, -and went to Heaven. Juno you know, and you can -judge whether she is such as would delight a parent’s -heart; while Wilford, my only boy, to deceive me so; I -knew he was a fool in some things, but I did trust Wilford.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The old man’s voice shook now, and Katy felt his tears -dropping on her hair as he stooped over her. Checking -them, however, he said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And he was cross because you found him out. Was -there no other reason?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy thought of Dr. Morris, but she could not tell of -that, and so she answered,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“There was—but please don’t ask me now. I can’t -tell, only I was not to blame. Believe me, father, I was -not to blame.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ll swear to that,” was the reply, and father Cameron -commenced his walking again, just as Esther came to the -door with the morning letters.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was one from Wilford for Katy, who nervously -tore off the envelope and read as follows:</p> - -<p class='c005'>“Will you be sorry when you read this and find that I -am gone, that you are free from the husband you do not -love,—whom, perhaps, you never loved, though I thought -you did. I trusted you once, and now I do not blame -you as much as I ought, for you are young and easily influenced. -You are very susceptible to flattery, as was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_323'>323</span>proven by your career at Saratoga and Newport. I had no -suspicion of you then, but now that I know you better, I -see that it was not all childish simplicity which made you -smile so graciously upon those who sought your favor. -You are a coquette, Katy, and the greater one because of -that semblance of artlessness which is the perfection of -art. This, however, I might forgive, if I had not learned -that another man loved you first and wished to make you -his wife, while you, in your secret heart, wish you had -known it sooner. Don’t deny it, Katy; I saw it in your -face when I first told you of Dr. Grant’s confession, and I -heard it in your voice as well as in your words when you -said ‘A life at Linwood would be perfect rest compared -with this.’ That hurt me cruelly, Katy. I did not deserve -it from one for whom I have done and borne so much, -and it was the final cause of my leaving you, for I am -going to Washington to enroll myself in the service of my -country. You will be happier without me for awhile, and -perhaps when I return, Linwood will not look quite the -little paradise it does now.</p> - -<p class='c005'>“I might reproach you with having telegraphed to Dr. -Grant about that miserable Genevra affair which you had -not discretion enough to keep to yourself. Few men would -care to have their wives send for a former lover in their -absence and ask that lover to take them away. Your -saintly cousin, good as he is, cannot wonder at my vexation, -or blame me greatly for going away. Perhaps he -will offer you comfort, both religious and otherwise: but if -you ever wish me to return, avoid him as you would shun -a deadly poison. Until I countermand the order, I wish -you to remain in the house which I bought for you. Helen -and your mother both may live with you, while father will -have a general oversight of your affairs; I shall send him -a line to that effect.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<span class='sc'>Your Disappointed Husband.</span>”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c011'>This was the letter, and there was perfect silence while -Katy read it through, Mr. Cameron never taking his eyes -from her face, which turned first white, then red, then -spotted, and finally took a leaden hue as Katy ran over -the lines, comprehending the truth as she read, and when -<span class='pageno' id='Page_324'>324</span>the letter was finished, lifting her dry, tearless eyes to -Father Cameron, and whispering to herself,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Deserted!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She let him read the letter, and when he had finished, -explained the parts he did not understand, telling him -now what Morris had confessed—telling him too that -in her first sorrow, when life and sense seemed reeling, -she had sent for Dr. Grant, knowing she could trust him -and be right in doing whatever he advised.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“<em>Why</em> did you say you sent for him—that is, <em>what</em> was -the special reason?” Mr. Cameron asked, and Katy told -him her belief that Genevra was living—that it was she -who made the bridal trousseau for Wilford’s second wife, -she who nursed his child until it died, giving to it her -own name, arraying it for the grave, and then leaving before -the father came.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I never told Wilford,” Katy said. “I felt as if I -would rather he should not know it yet. Perhaps I was -wrong, but if so, I have been terribly punished.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mr. Cameron could not look upon the woman who -stood before him, so helpless and stricken in her desolation, -and believe her wrong in anything. The guilt lay -in another direction, and when, as the terrible reality -that she was indeed a deserted wife came rushing over -Katy, she tottered toward him for help; he stretched his -arms out for her, and taking the sinking figure in them, -laid it upon the sofa as gently, as kindly, as Wilford had -ever touched it in his most loving days.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy did not faint nor weep. She was past all that; -but her face was like a piece of marble, and her eyes were -like those of the hunted fawn when the chase is at its -height, and escape impossible.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Wilford will come back, of course,” the father said, -“but that does not help us now. What the plague—who -is ringing that bell enough to break the wire?” he added, -as a sharp, rapid ring echoed through the house, and was -answered by Esther. “It’s my wife,” he continued, as -he caught the sound of her voice in the hall.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You stay here while I meet her first alone. <em>I’ll</em> give -it to her for cheating me so long, and raising thunder -generally!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_325'>325</span>Katy tried to protest, but he was half way down the -stairs, and in a moment more was with his wife, who, impatient -at his long delay, had come herself, armed and -equipped, to censure Katy as the cause of Wilford’s disappearance, -and to demand of her what she had done. -But the lady who came in so haughty and indignant was -a very different personage from the lady who, after listening -for fifteen minutes to a fearful storm of oaths -and reproaches, mingling with startling truths and bitter -denunciations against herself and her boy, sank into a -chair, pale and trembling, and overwhelmed with the -harvest she was reaping.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But her husband was not through with her yet. He -had reserved the bitterest drop for the last, and coming -close to her he said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And <em>who</em> think you the woman is—this Genevra, Wilford’s -and your divorced wife? You were too proud to -acknowledge an apothecary’s daughter! See if you like -better a dressmaker, a nurse to Katy’s baby, <em>Marian Hazelton</em>!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He whispered the last name, and with a shriek the lady -fainted. Mr. Cameron would not summon a servant; and -as there was no water in the room, he walked to the -window, and lifting the sash scraped from the sill a handful -of the light spring snow which had been falling since -morning. With this he brought his wife back to consciousness, -and then marked out her future course.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know what is in your mind,” he said; “people <em>will</em> -talk about Wilford’s going off so suddenly, and you would -like to have all the blame rest on Katy; but, madam, -hear me: Just so sure as through your means one breath -of suspicion falls on her, I’ll <em>bla-at</em> out the whole story of -Genevra. Then see who is censured. On the other hand, -if you hold your tongue, and make Juno hold hers, and -stick to Katy through thick and thin, acting as if you -would like to swallow her whole, I’ll say nothing of this -Genevra. Is it a bargain?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” came faintly from the sofa cushions, where Mrs. -Cameron had buried her face, sobbing in a confused, -frightened way, and after a few moments asking to see -Katy, whom she kissed and caressed with unwonted tenderness, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_326'>326</span>telling her Wilford would come back, and adding, -that in any event no one could or should blame her. -“Wilford was wrong to deceive you about Genevra. I -was wrong to let him; but we will have no more concealments. -You think she is living still—that she is Marian -Hazelton?” and Mrs. Cameron smoothed Katy’s hair -as she talked, trying to be motherly and kind, while her -heart beat more painfully at thoughts of a Genevra living, -than it ever had at thoughts of a Genevra dead.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She did not doubt the story, although it seemed so -strange, and it made her faint as she wondered if the -world would ever know, and what it would say if it did. -That her husband would tell, if she failed in a single -point, she was sure; but she would not fail. She would -swear Katy was innocent of everything, if necessary, while -Juno and Bell should swear too. Of course, they must -know, and she should tell them that very night, she said -to herself; and hence it was that in the gossip which followed -Wilford’s disappearance, not a word was breathed -against Katy, whose cause the family espoused so warmly,—Bell -and the father because they really loved and pitied -her, and Mrs. Cameron and Juno because it saved them -from the disgrace which would have fallen on Wilford, -had the fashionable world known then of Genevra.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford’s leaving home so suddenly to join the army, -could not fail, even in New York, to cause some excitement, -especially in his own immediate circle of acquaintance, -and for several days the matter was discussed in all -its phases, and every possible opinion and conjecture offered, -as to the cause of his strange freak. They could -not believe in domestic troubles when they saw how his -family clung to and defended Katy from the least approach -of censure, Juno taking up her abode with her -“afflicted sister,” Mrs. Cameron driving round each day -to see her; Bell always speaking of her with genuine affection, -while the father clung to her like a hero, the -quartette forming a barrier across which the shafts of -scandal could not reach.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_327'>327</span> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXXIX.<br> <span class='large'>WHAT FOLLOWED.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>When Wilford left Katy so abruptly he had no definite -purpose in his mind. He was very sore with the remembrance -of all that had passed since baby’s death, and very -angry at his wife, who he believed preferred another to -himself, or who would have done so had she known in -time what she did now. Like most angry people, he forgot -wherein he had been in fault, but charged it all to Katy -as he went down Broadway that spring morning, finding -on his table a letter from an old classmate, who was then -in Washington getting up a company, and who wrote -urging his friend to join him at once, and offering him -the rank of First Lieutenant. Here was a temptation,—here -an opportunity to revenge himself on Katy, against -whom he wrote a sad list of errors, making it sadder by -brooding over and magnifying it until he reached a point -from which he would not swerve.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I shall do it,” he said, and his lips were pressed -firmly together, as in his private office he sat revolving -the past, and then turning to the future, opening so -darkly before him, and making him shudder as he thought -of what it might bring. “I will spare Katy as much as -possible,” he said, “for hers is a different nature from -Genevra’s. She cannot bear as well,” and a bitter groan -broke the silence of the room as Katy came up before him -just as she had looked that very morning standing by -the window, with tears in her eyes, and a wistful, sorry -look on her white face.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Wilford was not one to retract when a decision was -reached, and so he arranged his business matters as -well as his limited time would allow; then, after the -brief note to his father, wrote the letter to Katy, and -then followed to the Jersey ferry a regiment of soldiers -who were going on to Washington that night. Four days -<span class='pageno' id='Page_328'>328</span>more and Lieutenant Wilford Cameron, with no regret -as yet for the past, marched away to swell the ranks of -men who, led by General McClellan, were pressing on, as -they believed, to Richmond and victory. A week of terrible -suspense went by, and then there came a letter to -Mr. Cameron from his son, requesting him to care for -Katy, but asking no forgiveness for himself. There were -no apologies, no explanations, no kind words for Katy, -whose eyes moved slowly over the short letter, and then -were lifted sadly to her father’s face as she said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I will write to him myself, and on his answer will -depend my future course.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This she said referring to the question she had raised -as to whether she should remain in New York or go to -Silverton, where the family as yet knew nothing except -that Wilford had joined the army. And so the days went -by, while Katy’s letter was sent to Wilford, together with -another from his father, who called his son a “confounded -fool,” telling him to throw up his shoulder straps, which -only honest men had a right to wear, and come home -where he belonged.</p> - -<p class='c011'>To this there came an indignant answer, bidding the -father attend to his own business, and allow the son to -attend to his. To Katy, however, Wilford wrote in a -different strain, showing here and there marks of tenderness -and relenting, but saying what he had done could -not now be helped,—he was in for a soldier’s life for -two years, and should abide his choice.</p> - -<p class='c011'>This was the purport of Wilford’s letter, and Katy, -when she finished reading it, said sorrowfully,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Wilford never loved me, and I cannot stay in <em>his</em> -home, knowing that I am not trusted and respected as a -wife should be. I will go to Silverton. There is room -for me there.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Meanwhile at Silverton there was much anxiety for -Katy, and many doubts expressed lest something was -wrong. That Wilford should go away so suddenly, when -he had never been noted for any very great amount of -patriotism, seemed strange, and Uncle Ephraim at last -made up his mind to the herculean task of going to New -York to see what was the matter.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_329'>329</span>Presuming upon her experience as a traveler, Aunt Betsy -had proffered sundry pieces of advice with reference to -what it was best for him to do on the road, telling him -which side of the car to sit, where to get out, and above -all things not to shake hands with the conductor when -asked for his ticket.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Uncle Ephraim heard her good-humoredly, and stuffing -into his pocket the paper of ginger-snaps, fried cakes -and cheese, which Aunt Hannah had prepared for his -lunch, he started for the cars, and was soon on his way -to New York.</p> - -<p class='c011'>In his case there was no Bob Reynolds to offer aid and -comfort, and the old man was nearly torn in pieces by -the hackmen, who, the moment he appeared to view, -pounced upon him as lawful prey, each claiming the honor -of taking him wherever he wished to go, and raising such -a din about his ears that he turned away thoroughly disgusted, -telling them—</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He had feet and legs, and common sense, and he -guessed he could find his way without ’em. ’Bleeged -to you, gentlemen, but I don’t need you,” and with a -profound bow the honest looking old deacon walked -away, asking the first man he met the way to Madison -Square, and succeeding in finding the number without -difficulty.</p> - -<p class='c011'>With a scream of joy Katy threw herself into Uncle -Ephraim’s arms, and then led him to her own room, while -the first tears she had shed since she knew she was deserted -rained in torrents over her face.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What is it, Katy-did? I mistrusted something was -wrong. What has happened?” Uncle Ephraim asked; -and with his arm around her, Katy told him what had -happened, and asked what she should do.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do?” the old man repeated. “Go home with me to -your own folks until he comes from the wars. He is -your husband, and I shall say nothing agin him; but if it -was to go over I would forbid the banns. That chap has -misused you the wust way. You need not deny it, for -it’s writ all over your face,” he continued, as Katy tried -to stop him, for sore as was her heart with the great injustice -done her, she would not have Wilford blamed, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_330'>330</span>she was glad when dinner was announced, as that would -put an end to the painful conversation.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Leading Uncle Ephraim to the table, she presented him -to Juno, whose cold nod and haughty stare were lost on -the old man, bowing his white head so reverently as he -asked the first blessing which had ever been asked at that -table.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It had not been a house of prayer—no altar had been -erected for the morning and evening sacrifice. God had -almost been forgotten, and now He was pouring His wrath -upon the handsome dwelling, making it so distasteful -that Katy was anxious to leave it, and expressed her desire -to accompany Uncle Ephraim to Silverton as soon -as the necessary arrangements could be made.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t take it she comes for good,” Uncle Ephraim -said that evening, when Mr. Cameron opposed her going. -“When the two years are gone, and her man wants her -back, she must come of course. But she grows poor here -in the city. It don’t agree with her like the scent of -the clover and the breeze from the hills. So, shet -up the house for a spell, and let the child come with -me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mr. Cameron knew that Katy would be happier at Silverton, -and he finally consented to her going, and placed -at her disposal a sum which seemed to the deacon a little -fortune in itself.</p> - -<p class='c011'>To Mrs. Cameron and Juno it was a relief to have Katy -taken from their hands, and though they made a show of -opposition, they were easily quieted, and helped her off -with alacrity, the mother promising to see that the house -was properly cared for, and Juno offering to send the -latest fashions which might be suitable, as soon as they -appeared. Bell was heartily sorry to part with the young -sister, who seemed going from her forever.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know you will never come back. Something tells -me so,” she said, as she stood with her arms around -Katy’s waist, and her lips occasionally touching Katy’s -forehead. “But I shall see you,” she continued; “I am -coming to the farm-house in the summer, and you may -say to Aunt Betsy that I like her ever so much, and”—Bell -glanced behind her, to see that no one was listening, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_331'>331</span>and then continued—“tell her a certain officer was -sick a few days in a hospital last winter, and one of his -men brought to him a dish of the most delicious dried -peaches he ever ate. That man was from <em>Silverton</em>, and -the fruit was sent to him, he said, in a salt bag, by a -nice old lady, for whose brother he used to work. Just -to think that the peaches I helped to pare, coloring my -hands so that the stain did not come off in a month, -should have gone so straight to <em>Bob</em>!” and Bell’s fine -features shone with a light which would have told Bob -Reynolds he was beloved, if the lips did refuse to confess -it.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ll tell her,” Katy said, and then bidding them all -good-bye, and putting her hand on Uncle Ephraim’s arm, -she went with him from the home where she had lived -but two years, and those the saddest, most eventful ones -of her short life.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XL.<br> <span class='large'>MARK AND HELEN.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>There was much talk in Silverton when it was known -that Katy had come to stay until her husband returned -from the war, and at first the people watched her curiously -as she came among them again, so quiet, so subdued, so -unlike the Katy of old that they would have hardly -recognized her but for the beauty of her face and the -sunny smile she gave to all, and which rested oftenest -on the poor and suffering, who blessed her as the angel -of their humble homes, praying that God would remember -her for all she was to them. Wilford had censured -her at first for going to Silverton, when he preferred she -should stay in New York, hinting darkly at the reason -of her choice, and saying to her once, when she told him -how the Sunday before her twenty-first birthday she had -knelt before the altar and taken upon herself the vows -of confirmation, “Your saintly cousin is, of course, delighted, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_332'>332</span>and that I suppose is sufficient, without my congratulations.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Perhaps he did not mean it, but he seemed to take delight -in teasing her, and Katy sometimes felt she should -be happier without his letters than with them. He never -said he was sorry he had left her so suddenly—indeed he -seldom referred to the past in any way; or if he did, it -was in a manner which showed that he thought himself -the injured party, if either.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy did not often go to Linwood, and seldom saw -Morris alone. After what had passed she thought it better -to avoid him as much as possible, and was glad when -early in June he accepted a situation offered him as -surgeon in a Georgetown hospital, and left Silverton for -his new field of labor.</p> - -<p class='c011'>True to her promise, Bell came the last of July to Silverton, -proving herself a dreadful romp, as she climbed -over the rocks in Aunt Betsy’s famous sheep-pasture, or -raked the hay in the meadow, and proving herself, too, a -genuine woman, as with blanched cheek and anxious heart -she waited for tidings from the battles before Richmond, -where the tide of success seemed to turn, and the North, -hitherto so jubilant and hopeful, wore weeds of mourning -from Maine to Oregon. Lieut. Bob was there, and -Wilford, too; and so was Captain Ray, digging in the -marshy swamps, where death floated up in poisonous exhalations—plodding -on the weary march, and fighting all -through the seven days, where the sun poured down its -burning heat and the night brought little rest. No wonder, -then, that three faces at the farm-house grew white -with anxiety, or that three pairs of eyes grew dim with -watching the daily papers. But the names of neither -Wilford, Mark, nor Bob were ever found among the -wounded, dead, or missing, and with the fall of the first -autumn leaf Bell returned to the city more puzzled, more -perplexed than ever with regard to Helen Lennox’s real -feelings toward Captain Ray.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The week before Christmas, Mark came home for a -few days, looking ruddy and bronzed from exposure and -hardship, but wearing a disappointed, listless look which -Bell was quick to detect, connecting it in some way with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_333'>333</span>Helen Lennox. Only once did he call at Mr. Cameron’s -and then as Juno was out Bell had him to herself, talking -of Silverton, of Helen and Katy, in the latter of whom -he seemed far more interested than her sister. Many -questions he asked concerning Katy, expressing his regret -that Wilford had left her, and saying he believed -Wilford was sorry, too. He was in the hospital now, with -a severe cold and a touch of the rheumatism, he said; but -as Bell knew this already she did not dwell long upon -that subject, choosing rather to talk of Helen, who, she -said, was “as much interested in the soldiers, as if she -had a brother or a lover in the army,” and her bright -eyes glanced meaningly at Mark, who answered carelessly,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“<em>Dr. Grant</em> is there, and that may account for her interest.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mark knew he must say something to ward off Bell’s -attacks, and he continued talking of Dr. Grant and how -much he was liked by the poor wretches who needed some -one like him to keep them from dying of homesickness -if nothing else; then, after a few bantering words concerning -Lieutenant Bob and the <em>picture</em> he carried into -every battle, buttoned closely over his heart, Mark Ray -took his leave, while Bell ran up to her mother’s room as a -seamstress was occupying her own. Mrs. Cameron was out -that afternoon, and that she had dressed in a hurry was -indicated by the unusual confusion of her room. Drawers -were left open and various articles scattered about, -while on the floor, just as it had fallen from a glove-box, -lay a <em>letter</em> which Bell picked up, intending to -replace it.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“<em>Miss Helen Lennox</em>,” she read in astonishment. “How -came Helen Lennox’s letter <em>here</em>, and from <em>Mark Ray</em> too,” -she continued, still more amazed as she took the neatly -folded note from the envelope and glanced at the name. -“Foul play somewhere. Can it be mother?” she asked, -as she read enough to know that she held in her hand -Mark’s offer of marriage, which had in some mysterious -manner found its way to her mother’s room. “I don’t -understand it,” she said, racking her brain for a solution -of the mystery. “But I’ll send it to Helen this very -day, and to-morrow I’ll tell Mark Ray.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_334'>334</span>Procrastination was not one of Bell Cameron’s faults, -and for full half an hour before her mother and Juno came -home, the stolen letter had been lying in the mail box -where Bell herself deposited it, together with a few hurriedly-written -lines, telling how it came into her hands, -but offering no explanation of any kind.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mark is home now on a leave of absence which expires -day after to-morrow,” she wrote, “I am going -round to see him, and if you do not hear from him in -person I am greatly mistaken.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The next day a series of hindrances kept Bell from -making her call as early as she had intended, so that Mrs. -Banker and Mark were just rising from dinner when told -she was in the parlor.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I meant to have come before,” she said, seating herself -by Mark, “but I could not get away. I have brought -you some good news. I think,—that is,—yes, I know -there has been some mistake, some wrong somewhere. -Mark Ray, yesterday afternoon I found,—no matter where -or how—a letter intended for Helen Lennox, which I am -positive she never saw or heard of; at least her denial to -me that a certain Mark Ray had ever offered himself is -a proof that she never saw what <em>was</em> an offer made just -before you went away. I read enough to know that, and -then I took the letter and——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She hesitated, while Mark’s eyes turned dark with excitement, -and even Mrs. Banker, scarcely less interested, -leaned eagerly forward, saying,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And what? Go on, Miss Cameron. What did you -do with that letter?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I sent it to its rightful owner, Helen Lennox. I -posted it myself. But why don’t you thank me, Captain -Ray?” she asked, as Mark’s face was overshadowed with -anxiety.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I was wondering whether it were well to send it—wondering -how it might be received,” he said, and Bell -replied.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She will not answer no. As one woman knows another, -I know Helen Lennox. I have sounded her on -that point. I told her of the rumor there was afloat, and -she denied it, seeming greatly distressed, but showing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_335'>335</span>plainly that had such offer been received she would not -have refused it. You should have seen her last summer, -Captain Ray, when we waited so anxiously for news from -the Potomac. Her face was a study as her eyes ran over -the list of casualties, searching <em>not</em> for her amiable -<em>brother-in-law</em>, nor yet for <em>Willard Braxton</em>, their hired -man. It was plain to me as daylight, and all you have -to do is to follow up that letter with another, or go yourself, -if you have time,” Bell said, as she rose to go, -leaving Mark in a state of bewilderment as to what he -had heard.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Who withheld that letter? and why? were questions -which troubled him greatly, nor did his mother’s assurance -that it did not matter so long as it all came right at -last, tend wholly to reassure him. One thing, however, -was certain. He would see Helen before he returned to -his regiment. He would telegraph in the morning to -Washington, and then run the risk of being a day behind -the time appointed for his return to duty.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Suppose you have three children when I return, instead -of two, is there room in your heart for the third?” -he asked his mother when next morning he was about -starting for Silverton.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, always room for Helen,” was the reply, as with -a kiss of benediction Mrs. Banker sent her boy away.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XLI.<br> <span class='large'>CHRISTMAS EVE AT SILVERTON.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>There was to be a Christmas tree at St. John’s, and -all the week the church had been the scene of much confusion. -But the work was over now; the church was swept -and dusted, the tree with its gay adornings was in its -place, the little ones, who had hindered so much, were -gone, as were their mothers, and Helen only tarried with -the organ boy to play the Christmas Carol, which Katy -was to sing alone, the children joining in the chorus as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_336'>336</span>they had been trained to do. It was very quiet there, and -pleasant, with the fading sunlight streaming through the -chancel window, lighting up the cross above it, and falling -softly on the wall where the evergreens were hung with -the sacred words, “Peace on earth and good will towards -men.” And Helen felt the peace stealing over her -as she sat down by the register for a moment ere going -to the organ loft where the boy was waiting for her. Not -even the remembrance of the dark war-cloud hanging over -the land disturbed her then, as her thoughts went backward -eighteen hundred years to Bethlehem’s manger and -the little Child whose birth the angels sang. And as she -thought, that Child seemed to be with her, a living presence -to which she prayed, leaning her head upon the railing -of the pew in front, and asking Him to keep her in -the perfect peace she felt around her now. For Mark -Ray, too, she prayed, asking God to keep him in safety -wherever he might be, whether in the lonely watch, or in -some house of God, where the Christmas carols would be -sung and the Christmas story told.</p> - -<p class='c011'>As she lifted up her head her hand struck against the -pocket of her dress, where lay the letter brought to her -an hour or so ago—Bell’s letter—which she had put aside -to read at a more convenient season.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Taking it out, she tore open the envelope, starting suddenly -as another letter, soiled and unsealed, met her eye. -She read Bell’s first, and then, with a throbbing heart, -which as yet would not believe, she took up Mark’s, understanding -now much that was before mysterious to her. -Juno’s call came to her mind, and though she was unwilling -to charge so foul a wrong upon that young lady, -she could find no other solution to the mystery. There -was a glow of indignation—Helen had scarcely been -mortal without it;—but that passed away in pity for the -misguided girl and in joy at the happiness opening so -broadly before her. That Mark would <em>come</em> to Silverton -she had no hope, but he would write—his letter, perhaps, -was even then on the way; and kissing the one she held, -she hid it in her bosom and went up to where the organ boy -had for several minutes been kicking at stools and -books, and whistling <em>Old John Brown</em> by way of attracting -<span class='pageno' id='Page_337'>337</span>attention. The boy was in a hurry, and asked in so forlorn -a tone, “<em>Is</em> we going to play?” that Helen answered good-humoredly, -“Just a few minutes, Billy. I want to try -the carol and the opening, which I’ve hardly played at -all.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>With an air of submission Bill took his post and Helen -began to play, but she could only see before her, “I have -loved you ever since that morning when I put the lilies in -your hair,” and played so out of time and tune that Billy -asked, “What makes ’em go so bad?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I can’t play now; I’m not in the mood,” she said. -“I shall feel better by and by. You can go home if you -like.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Bill needed no second bidding, but catching up his cap -ran down the stairs and out into the porch, just as up -the steps a young man came hurriedly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Hallo, boy,” he cried, grasping the collar of Bill’s -roundabout and holding him fast, “who’s in the -church?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Darn yer, Jim Sykes, you let me be, or I’ll——” the -boy began, but when he saw his captor was not <em>Jim Sykes</em>, -but a tall man, wearing a soldier’s uniform, he changed -his tone, and answered civilly, “I thought you was Jim -Sykes, the biggest bully in town, who is allus hectorin’ -us boys. Nobody is there but she——Miss Lennox—up -where the organ is,” and having given the desired information, -Bill ran off, wondering first if it wasn’t Miss -Helen’s <em>beau</em>, and wondering next, in case she should sometime -get married in church, if he wouldn’t fee the <em>organ boy</em> -as well as the sexton. “He orto,” Bill soliloquized, -“for I’ve about blowed my gizzard out sometimes, when -she and Mrs. Cameron sings the Te Deum.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Meanwhile Mark Ray, who had driven first to the farm-house -in quest of Helen, entered the church, and stole -noiselessly up the stairs to where Helen sat in the dim -light, reading again the precious letter withheld from her -so long. She had moved her stool nearer to the window, -and her back was towards the door, so that she neither -saw, nor heard, nor suspected anything, until Mark, bending -over her so as to see what she had in her hand, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_338'>338</span>as well as the <em>tear</em> she had dropped upon it, clasped both -his arms about her neck, and drawing her face over back, -kissed her fondly, calling her his darling, and saying to -her, as she tried to struggle from him,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know I have a right to call you darling, by that tear -on my letter, and the look upon your face. Dear Helen, -we have found each other at last.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was so unexpected that Helen could not speak, but -she let her head rest on his bosom, where he had laid it, -and her hand crept into his, so that he was answered, -and for a moment he only kissed and caressed the fair -girl he knew now was his own. They could not talk -together very long, for Helen must go home; but he -made good use of the time he had, telling her many -things, and then asking her a question which made her -start away from him as she replied. “No, no, oh! no, not -to-night—not so soon as that!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And why not, Helen?” he asked, with the manner -of one who was not to be denied. “Why not to-night, so -there need be no more misunderstanding? I’d rather -leave you as my wife than my betrothed. Mother will -like it better. I hinted it to her and she said there was -room for you in her love. It will make me a better man, -and a better soldier, if I can say ‘my wife,’ as other -soldiers do. You don’t know what a charm there is in that -word, Helen. It keeps a man from sin, and if I should die -I would rather you should bear my name, and share in my -fortune. Will you, Helen, when the ceremonies are closed, -will you go up to that altar and pledge your vows to me. -I cannot wait till to-morrow; my leave of absence expires -to-day. I must go back to-night, but you must first be -mine.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Helen was shaking as with a chill, but she made him -no reply, and wrapping her cloak and furs about her, -Mark led her down to the sleigh, and taking his seat -beside her, drove back to the farm-house where the family -were waiting for her. Katy, to whom Mark first communicated -his desire, warmly espoused his cause, and that -went far towards reassuring Helen, who for some time -past had been learning to look up to Katy as to an -<span class='pageno' id='Page_339'>339</span>older sister, so sober, so earnest, so womanly had Katy -grown since Wilford went away.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It is so sudden, and people will talk,” Helen said, -knowing, while she said it, how little she cared for people, -and smiling at Katy’s reply.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“They may as well talk about you awhile as me. It -is not so bad when once you are used to it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>After Katy, Aunt Betsy was Mark’s best advocate. -It is true this was not just what she had expected when -Helen was married. The <em>infair</em> which Wilford had declined -was still in Aunt Betsy’s mind; but that, she reflected, -might be yet. If Mark went back on the next -train there could be no proper wedding party until his -return, when the loaves of frosted cake, and the baked -fowls she had seen in imagination should be there in -real, tangible form, and as she expressed it they would -have a “high.” Accordingly she threw herself into the -scale beginning to balance in favor of Mark, and when -at last old Whitey stood at the door, ready to take the -family to the church, Helen sat upon the lounge listening -half bewildered while Katy assured her that <em>she</em> -could play the voluntary, even if she had not looked at -it, that she could lead the children without the organ, -and in short do everything Helen was expected to do -except go to the altar <em>with Mark</em>.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That I leave for you,” and she playfully kissed Helen’s -forehead, as she tripped from the room, looking back -when she reached the door, and charging the lovers not to -forget to come, in their absorption of each other.</p> - -<p class='c011'>St. John’s was crowded that night, the children occupying -the front seat, with looks of expectancy upon their -faces, as they studied the heavily laden tree, the boys wondering -if that ball, or whistle, or wheelbarrow was for them, -and the girls appropriating the tastefully-dressed dolls -showing so conspicuously among the dark green foliage. -The Barlows were rather late, for upon Uncle Ephraim -devolved the duty of seeing to the license, and as he had -no seat in that house, his arrival was only known by Aunt -Betsy’s elbowing her way to the front, and near to the -Christmas tree which she had helped to dress, just as she -had helped to trim the church. She did not believe in such -<span class='pageno' id='Page_340'>340</span>“flummeries” it is true and she classed them with the -“quirks,” but rather than “see the gals slave themselves -to death,” she had this year lent a helping hand. Donning -two shawls, a camlet cloak, a knit scarf for her head, -and a hood to keep from catching cold, she had worked -early and late, fashioning the most wonderfully shaped -wreaths, tying up festoons, and even trying her hand at -a triangle; she turned her back resolutely upon <em>crosses</em>, -which were more than her Puritanism could endure. -The cross was a “quirk,” with which she’d have nothing -to do, though once, when Katy seemed more than usually -bothered and wished somebody would hand her <em>tacks</em>, -Aunt Betsy relented so far as to bring the hoop she was -winding close to Katy, holding the little nails in her -mouth, and giving them out as they were wanted; but with -each one given out, conscientiously turning her head away, -lest her eyes should fall upon what she conceived the -symbol of the Romish Church. But when the whole was -done, none were louder in their praises than Aunt Betsy, -who was guilty of asking Mrs. Deacon Bannister, when -she came in to inspect, “why the Orthodox couldn’t get up -some such doin’s for their Sunday-school. It pleased -the children mightily.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Mrs. Deacon Bannister answered with some -severity,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We don’t believe in shows and <em>plays</em>, you know,” -thus giving a double thrust, and showing that the opera -had never been quite forgotten. “Here’s a pair of skates, -though, and a smellin’ bottle I’d like to have put on for -John and Sylvia,” she added, handing her package to -Aunt Betsy, who, while seeing the skates and smelling -bottle suspended from a bough, was guilty of wondering -if “the partaker wasn’t most as bad as the thief.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This was in the afternoon, and was all forgotten now, -when with her Sunday clothes she never would have -worn in that jam but for the great occasion, Aunt Betsy -elbowed her way up the middle aisle, her face wearing a -very important and knowing look, especially when Uncle -Ephraim’s tall figure bent for a moment under the hemlock -boughs, and then disappeared in the little vestry room -<span class='pageno' id='Page_341'>341</span>where he held a private consultation with the rector. That -she knew something her neighbors didn’t was evident, but -she kept it to herself, turning her head occasionally to -look up at the organ where Katy was presiding. Others -too, there were, who turned their heads as the soft music -began to fill the church, and the heavy bass rolled up the -aisles, making the floor tremble beneath their feet and -sending a thrill through every vein. It was a skillful hand -which swept the keys that night, for Katy played with her -whole soul—not the voluntary there before her in printed -form, nor any one thing she had ever heard, but taking -parts of many things, and mingling them with strains of -her own improvising she filled the house as it had never -been filled before, playing a soft, sweet refrain when she -thought of Helen, then bursting into louder, fuller tones, -when she remembered Bethlehem’s Child and the song the -angels sang, and then as she recalled her own sad life -since she knelt at the altar a happy bride, the organ notes -seemed much like human sobs, now rising to a stormy -pitch of passion, wild and uncontrolled, and then dying -out as dies the summer wind after a fearful storm. Awed -and wonderstruck the organ boy looked at Katy as she -played, almost forgetting his part of the performance in -his amazement, and saying to himself when she had finished,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Guy, ain’t she a brick?” and whispering to her, -“Didn’t we go that strong?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The people had wondered where Helen was, as, without -the aid of music, Katy led the children in their carols, -and this wonder increased when it was whispered round -that “Miss Lennox had come, and was standing with a -<em>man</em> back by the register.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>After this Aunt Betsy grew very calm, and could enjoy -the distributing of the gifts, going up herself two or three -times, and wondering why anybody should think of <em>her</em>, a -good-for-nothing old woman. The skates and the smelling -bottle both went safely to Sylvia and John, while Mrs. -Deacon Bannister looked radiant when her name was called -and she was made the recipient of a jar of butternut -pickles, such as only Aunt Betsy Barlow could make.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_342'>342</span>“<em>Miss Helen Lennox.</em> A soldier in uniform, from one -of her Sunday-school scholars,”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The words rang out loud and clear, as the Rector held -up the sugar toy before the amused audience, who turned -to look at Helen, blushing so painfully, and trying to hold -back the man in a soldier’s dress who went quietly up the -aisle, receiving the gift with a bow and smile which turned -the heads of half the ladies near him, and then went back -to Helen, to whom he whispered something which made her -cheeks grow brighter than they were before, while she -dropped her eyes modestly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Who is he?” a woman asked, touching Aunt Betsy’s -shoulder.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Captain Ray, from New York,” was the answer, as -Aunt Betsy gave to her dress a little broader sweep, and -smoothed the bow she had tried to tie beneath her chin, -just as Mattie Tubbs had tied it on the memorable opera -night.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The tree, by this time, was nearly empty. Every child -had been remembered, save one, and that the organ boy, -who, separated from his companions, stood near Helen, -watching the tree wistfully, while shadows of hope and -disappointment passed alternately over his face, as one -after another the presents were distributed and nothing -came to him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“There ain’t a darned thing on it for me,” he exclaimed -at last, when boy nature could endure no longer; and -Mark turned towards him just in time to see the gathering -mist, which but for the most heroic efforts would have -merged into tears.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Poor Billy!” Helen said, as she too heard his comment, -“I fear he <em>has</em> been forgotten. His teacher is absent, -and he so faithful at the organ too.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mark knew now who the boy was, and after a hurried -consultation with Helen, who suggested that <em>money</em> would -probably be more acceptable than even skates or jack-knives, -neither of which were possible now, folded something -in a bit of paper, on which he wrote a name, and -then sent it to the Rector.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Billy Brown, our faithful organ boy,” sounded through -the church; and with a brightened face Billy went up the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_343'>343</span>aisle and received the little package, ascertaining before -he reached his standpoint near the door, that he was the -owner of a five dollar bill, and mentally deciding to add -both peanuts and molasses candy to the stock of apples -he daily carried into the cars.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“<em>You</em> gin me this,” he said, nodding to Mark, “and -you,” turning to Helen, “poked him up to it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well then, if I did,” Mark replied, laying his hand -on the boy’s coarse hair, “you must take good care of -Miss Lennox when I am gone. I leave her in your charge. -She is to be my wife.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Gorry, I thought so;” and Bill’s cap went towards -the plastering, just as the last string of pop-corn was -given from the tree, and the exercises were about to close.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was not in Aunt Betsy’s nature to keep her secret -till this time; and simultaneously with Billy’s going up -for his gift, she whispered it to her neighbor, who whispered -it to hers, who whispered it to hers, until nearly all -the audience knew of it, and kept their seats after the -benediction was pronounced.</p> - -<p class='c011'>At a sign from the rector, Katy went with her mother -to the altar, followed by Uncle Ephraim, his wife, and -Aunt Betsy, while Helen, throwing off the cloud she had -worn upon her head, and giving it, with her cloak and -fur, into Billy’s charge, took Mark’s arm, and with beating -heart and burning cheeks passed between the sea of -eyes fixed so curiously upon her, up to where Katy once -stood on the June morning, when she had been the bride. -Not now, as then, were aching hearts present at the -bridal. No Marian Hazelton fainted by the door; no -Morris felt the world grow dark and desolate as the marriage -vows were spoken; and no sister doubted if it were -all right and would end in happiness.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The ceremony lasted but a few moments, and then the -astonished audience pressed around the bride, offering -their kindly congratulations, and proving to Mark Ray -that the bride he had won was dear to others as well as -to himself. Lovingly he drew her hand beneath his arm, -fondly he looked down upon her as he led her back to -her chair by the register, making her sit down while he -tied on her cloak, and adjusted the fur about her neck.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_344'>344</span>“Handy and gentle as a woman,” was the verdict pronounced -upon him by the female portion of the congregation, -as they passed out into the street, talking of the -ceremony, and contrasting Helen’s husband with the -haughty Wilford, who was not a favorite with them.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was Billy Brown who brought Mark’s cutter round, -and held the reins, while Mark helped Helen in, and then -he tucked the buffalo robes about her with the remark, -“It’s all-fired cold, Miss Ray. Shall you play in church -to-morrow?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Assured that she would, Billy walked away, and Mark -was alone with his bride, and slowly following the deacon’s -sleigh, which reached the farm-house a long time -before the little cutter, so that a fire was already kindled -in the parlor when Helen arrived, and also in the kitchen -stove, where the tea-kettle was boiling; for Aunt Betsy -said “the chap should have some supper before he went -back to York.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Four hours he had to stay, and they were spent in talking -of himself, of Wilford, and of Morris, and in planning -Helen’s future. Of course she would spend a portion -of her time at the farm-house, he said; but his -mother had a claim upon her, and it was his wish that -she should be in New York as much as possible.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Swiftly the last moments went by, and a “Merry Christmas” -was said by one and another as they took their seats -at the plentiful repast Aunt Betsy had provided, Mark -feasting more on Helen’s face than on the viands spread -before him. It was hard for him to leave her, hard for -her to let him go; but the duty was imperative, and so -when at last the frosty air grew keener as the small hours -of night crept on, he stood with his arms about her, nor -thought it unworthy of a soldier that his own tears mingled -with hers, as he bade her good-bye, kissing her again -and again, and calling her his precious wife, whose memory -would make his camp life brighter, and shorten the -days of absence. There was no one with them, when at -last Mark’s horse dashed from the yard over the creaking -snow, leaving Helen alone upon the doorstep, with the -glittering stars shining above her head, and her husband’s -farewell kiss wet upon her lips.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_345'>345</span>“When shall we meet again?” she sobbed, gazing up -at the clear blue sky, as if to find the answer there.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But only the December wind sweeping down from the -steep hillside, and blowing across her forehead, made reply -to that questioning, as she waited till the last faint sound -of Mark Ray’s bells died away in the distance, and then, -shivering with cold, re-entered the farm-house.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XLII.<br> <span class='large'>AFTER CHRISTMAS EVE.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Merrily rang the bells next day, but Helen’s heart was -very sad as she met the smiling faces of her friends, and -Mark had never been prayed for more earnestly than on -that Christmas morning, when Helen knelt at the altar -rail, and received the sacred symbols of a Saviour’s dying -love, asking that God would keep the soldier husband, -hastening on to New York, and from thence to Washington. -Much the Silvertonians discussed the wedding, and -had Helen been the queen, she could hardly have been -stared at more curiously than she was that Christmas day, -when late in the afternoon she drove through the town with -Katy, the villagers looking admiringly after her, noting -the tie of her bonnet, the arrangement of her face trimmings, -and discovering in both style and fitness they had -never discovered before. As the wife of Mark Ray, Helen -became suddenly a heroine, in whose presence poor Katy -subsided completely; nor was the interest at all diminished -when, two days later, Mrs. Banker came to Silverton and -was met at the depot by Helen, whom she hugged affectionately, -calling her “my dear daughter,” and holding -her hand all the way to the covered sleigh waiting there -for her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mrs. Banker was very fond of Helen; and not even the -sight of the farm-house, with its unpolished inmates, -awakened a feeling of regret that her only son had not -looked higher for a wife. She was satisfied with her new -<span class='pageno' id='Page_346'>346</span>daughter, and insisted upon taking her back to New -York.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am very lonely now, lonelier than you can possibly -be,” she said to Mrs. Lennox, “and you will not refuse -her to me for a few weeks at least. It will do us both -good, and make the time of Mark’s absence so much -shorter.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, mother, let Helen go. I will try to fill her -place,” Katy said, though while she said it her heart -throbbed with pain and dread as she thought how desolate -she should be without her sister.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But it was right, and Katy urged Helen’s going, bearing -up bravely so long as Helen was in sight, but shedding -bitter tears when at last she was gone, tears which -were only stayed when kind old Uncle Ephraim offered to -take her to the little grave, where, from experience, he -knew she always found rest and peace. The winter snows -were on it now, but Katy knew just where the daisies were, -and the blue violets which with the spring would bloom -again, feeling comforted as she thought of that eternal -spring in the bright world above, where her child had -gone. And so that night, when they gathered again around -the fire in the pleasant little parlor, the mother and the -old people did not miss Helen half so much as they had -feared they might, for Katy sang her sweetest songs and -wore her sunniest smile, while she told them of Helen’s -new home, and talked of whatever else she thought would -interest and please them.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Little Sunbeam,” Uncle Ephraim called her now, instead -of “Katy-did,” and in his prayer that first night of -Helen’s absence he asked, in his touching way, “that God -would bless his little Sunbeam, and not let her grow tired -of living there alone with folks so odd and old.”</p> - -<hr class='c014'> - -<p class='c011'>“<span class='sc'>Married</span>—On Christmas Eve, at St. John’s Church, -Silverton, Mass., by the Rev. Mr. Kelly, Capt. <span class='sc'>Mark Ray</span>, -of the —th Regiment, N. Y. S. Vols., to <span class='sc'>Miss Helen -Lennox</span>, of Silverton.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_347'>347</span>Such was the announcement which appeared in several -of the New York papers two days after Christmas, and -such the announcement which Bell Cameron read at the -breakfast table on the morning of the day when Mrs. -Banker started for Silverton.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Here is something which will perhaps interest <em>you</em>,” -she said, passing the paper to Juno, who had come down -late, and was looking cross and jaded from the effects of -last night’s dissipation.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Taking the paper from her sister’s hand, Juno glanced -at the paragraph indicated by Bell; then, as she caught -Mark’s name, she glanced again with a startled, incredulous -look, her cheeks and lips turning white as she read -that Mark Ray was lost to her forever, and that in spite -of the stolen letter Helen Lennox was his wife.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What is it, Juno?” Mrs. Cameron asked, noticing her -daughter’s agitation.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Juno told her what it was, and then handing her the -paper let her read it for herself.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Impossible! there is some mistake! How was it -brought about?” Mrs. Cameron said, darting a curious -glance at Bell, whose face betrayed nothing as she leisurely -sipped her coffee and remarked, “I always thought it -would come to this, for I knew he liked her. It is a -splendid match.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Whatever Juno thought she kept it to herself, just as -she kept her room the entire day, complaining of a racking -headache, and ordering the curtains to be dropped, as the -light hurt her eyes, she said to Bell, who, really pitying -her now, never suggested that the darkened room was more -to hide her tears than to save her eyes, and who sent away -all callers with the message that Juno was sick—all but -Sybil Grandon, who insisted so hard upon seeing her <em>dear -friend</em> that she was admitted to Juno’s room, talking at -once of the wedding, and making every one of Juno’s -nerves quiver with pain as she descanted upon the splendid -match it was for Helen, or indeed for any girl.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I had given you to him,” she said, “but I see I was -mistaken. It was Helen he preferred, unless you jilted -him, as perhaps you did.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_348'>348</span>Here was a temptation Juno could not resist, and she -replied, haughtily,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am not one to boast of conquests, but ask Captain -Ray himself if you wish to know why I did not marry -him.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sybil Grandon was not deceived, but she good-naturedly -suffered that young lady to hope she was, and answered, -laughingly, “I can’t say I honor your judgment in refusing -him, but you know best. However, I trust that will -not prevent your friendly advances towards his bride. -Mrs. Banker has gone after her, I understand, and I want -you to call with me as soon as convenient. <em>Mrs. Mark -Ray</em> will be the belle of the season, depend upon it,” and -gathering up her furs Mrs. Grandon kissed Juno affectionately -and then swept from the room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>That Mrs. Cameron had hunted for and failed to find -the stolen letter, and that she associated its disappearance -with Mark Ray’s sudden marriage, Bell was very sure, -from the dark, anxious look upon her face when she came -from her room, whither she had repaired immediately after -breakfast; but whatever her suspicions were, they did not -find form in words. Mark was lost. It was too late to -help that now, and as a politic woman of the world, Mrs. -Cameron decided to let the matter rest, and by <em>patronizing</em> -the young bride prove that she had never thought of Mark -Ray for her son-in-law. Hence it was that the Cameron -carriage and the Grandon carriage stood together before -Mrs. Banker’s door, while the ladies who had come in the -carriages paid their respects to Mrs. Ray, rallying her upon -the march she had stolen upon them, telling her how -delighted they were to have her back again, and hoping -they should see each other a great deal during the coming -winter.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The Camerons and Sybil Grandon were not alone in -calling upon the bride. Those who had liked Helen Lennox -did not find her less desirable now that she was -Helen Ray, and numberless were the attentions bestowed -upon her and the invitations she received.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But with few exceptions Helen declined the latter, feeling -that with her husband in so much danger, it was better -not to mingle in gay society. She was very happy -<span class='pageno' id='Page_349'>349</span>with Mrs. Banker, who petted and caressed and loved her -almost as much as if she had been her own daughter. -Mark’s letters, too, which came nearly every day, were -bright sun-spots in her existence, so full were they of -tender love and kind thoughtfulness for her. He was very -happy, he wrote, in knowing that at home there was a -dear little brown-haired wife, waiting and praying for him, -and but for the separation from her he was well content -with a soldier’s life. Once Helen thought seriously of -going to him for a week or more, but, the project was prevented -by the sudden arrival in New York of Katy, who -came one night to Mrs. Banker’s, with her face as white -as ashes, and a wild expression in her eyes as she said to -Helen,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am going to Wilford. He is dying. He has sent for -me. I ought to go on to-night, but cannot, my head -aches so,” and pressing both her hands upon her head -Katy sank fainting into Helen’s arms.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XLIII.<br> <span class='large'>GEORGETOWN HOSPITAL.</span></h2> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r c015'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Georgetown</span>, February—, 1862.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Mrs. Wilford Cameron</span>:</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c005'>“Your husband cannot live long. Come immediately.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>M. Hazelton.</span>”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c011'>So read the telegram received by Katy one winter morning, -and which stunned her for a few minutes so that she -could neither feel nor think. But the reaction came soon -enough, bringing with it only the remembrance of Wilford’s -love. All the wrong, the harshness, was forgotten, -and only the desire remained to fly at once to Wilford. -Bravely she kept up until New York was reached, when -the tension of her nerves gave way, and she fainted, as -we have seen.</p> - -<p class='c011'>At Father Cameron’s a telegram had been received, telling -<span class='pageno' id='Page_350'>350</span>of Wilford’s danger. But the mother could not go to -him. A lung difficulty, to which she was subject, had -confined her to the house for many days, and so it was the -father and Bell who made their hasty preparations for the -hurried journey to Georgetown. They heard of Katy’s -arrival, and Bell came at once to see her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She will not be able to join us to-morrow,” was the -report Bell carried home, for she saw more than mere exhaustion -in the white face lying so motionless on Helen’s -pillow, with the dark rings about the eyes, and the quiver -of the muscles about the mouth.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It is very hard, but God knows best,” poor Katy -moaned, when the next day her father and Bell went without -her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, darling, God knows best,” Helen answered, -smoothing the bright hair, and thinking sadly of the young -officer sitting by his camp-fire, and waiting so eagerly for -the bride who could not go to him now. “God knows -what is best, and does all for the best.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy said it many times that long, long week, during -which she stayed with Helen, living from day to day upon -the letters sent by Bell, who gave but little hope that -Wilford would recover. Not a word did she say of Marian, -and only twice did she mention Morris, who was one -of the physicians in that hospital, so that when at last -Katy was strong enough to venture on the journey, she had -but little idea of what had transpired in Wilford’s sick -room.</p> - -<hr class='c014'> - -<p class='c011'>Those were sad, weary days which Wilford first passed -upon his hospital cot, and as he was not sick but crippled, -he had ample time for reviewing the past, which -came up before his mind as vividly as if he had been living -again the scenes of bygone days. Of Katy he thought -continually, repenting of his rashness, and wishing so -much that the past could be undone. Disgusted with -soldier life, he had wished himself at home a thousand -times, but never by a word had he admitted such a wish -to any living being, and when, on the dark, rainy afternoon -<span class='pageno' id='Page_351'>351</span>which first saw him in the hospital, he turned his -face to the wall and wept, he replied to one who said to -him soothingly,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Don’t feel badly, my young friend. We will take as -good care of you here as if you were at home.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s the pain which brings the tears. I’d as soon be -here as at home.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Gradually, however, there came a change, and Wilford -grew softer in his feelings, half resolving to send for Katy, -who had offered to come, and to whom he had replied, -“It is not necessary.” But as often as he resolved, his -evil genius whispered, “She does not care to come,” and -so the message was never sent, while the longing for home -faces brought on a nervous fever, which made him so -irritable that his attendants turned from him in disgust, -thinking him the most unreasonable man they ever met -with. Once he dreamed Genevra was there—that her -fingers threaded his hair as they used to do in the 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.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The nurse in the second ward has been in here,” a -comrade said. “She seemed specially interested in you, -and if she had not been a stranger, I should have said -she was crying over you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>With a quick, sudden movement, Wilford put his hand -to his cheek, where there was a tear, either his own or that -of the “nurse,” who had recently bent over him. Retaining -the same proud reserve which had characterized his -whole life, he asked no questions, but listened to what his -companions were saying of the beauty and tenderness of -the “young girl,” as they called her, who had glided for a -few moments into their presence, winning their hearts in -that short space of time, and making them wish she would -come back again. Wilford wished so too, conjuring up all -sorts of conjectures about the unknown nurse, and once -going so far as to fancy it was Katy herself. But Katy -would hardly venture there as nurse, and if she did she -would not keep aloof from him. It was not Katy, and if -not, who was it that twice when he was sleeping came and -looked at him, his comrades said, rallying him upon the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_352'>352</span>conquest he had made, and so exciting his imagination -that the fever began to increase, and the blood throbbed -hotly through his veins, while his brows were knit together -with thoughts of the mysterious stranger. Then, -with a great shock it occurred to him that Katy had -affirmed, “<em>Genevra</em> is alive.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>What if it were so, and this nurse were Genevra? The -very idea fired Wilford’s brain, and when next his physician -came he looked with alarm upon the great change -for the worse exhibited by his patient.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Shall I send for your friends?” he asked, and Wilford -answered, savagely,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have no friends—none at least, but what will be -glad to know I’m dead.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And that was the last, except the wild words of a -maniac, which came from Wilford’s lips for many a day -and night. When they said he was unconscious, Marian -Hazelton obtained permission to attend him, and again the -eyes of the other occupants of the room were turned wonderingly -towards her as she bent over the sick man, parting -his matted hair, smoothing his pillow, and holding the -cooling draught to the parched lips which muttered -strange things of Brighton, of Alnwick and Rome—of -the heather on the Scottish moors, and the daisies on -Genevra’s grave, where Katy once sat down.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She did not know Genevra was there,” he said; “but -I knew, and I felt as if the dead were wronged by that -act of Katy’s. Do <em>you</em> know Katy?” and his black eyes -fastened upon Marian, who soothed him into quiet, while -she talked to him of Katy, telling of her graceful beauty, -her loving heart, and the sorrow she would feel when she -heard how sick he was.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Shall I send for her?” she asked, but Wilford answered,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, I am satisfied with you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This was her first day with him, but there were other -days when all her strength, and that of Morris, who, -at her earnest solicitation, came to her aid, was required -to keep him on his bed. He was going home, he said, -going to Katy; and like a giant he writhed under a force -<span class='pageno' id='Page_353'>353</span>superior to his own, and which held him down and controlled -him, while his loud outcries filled the building, and -sent a shudder to the hearts of those who heard them. -As the two men, who at first had occupied the room with -him, were well enough to leave for home, Marian and Morris -both begged that, unless absolutely necessary, no other -one should be sent to that small apartment, where all the -air was needed for the patient in their charge. And thus -the room was left alone for Wilford, who grew worse so -fast that Marian telegraphed to Katy, bidding her come -at once.</p> - -<hr class='c014'> - -<p class='c011'>Slowly the wintry night was passing, the fifth since -Marian’s message was sent to Katy, and Morris sat by -Wilford’s cot, when suddenly he met Wilford’s eyes fixed -upon him with a look of recognition he could not mistake.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do you know me?” he asked so kindly, and with so -much of genuine sympathy in his voice, that the heavy -eyelids quivered for an instant, as Wilford nodded his -head, and whispered,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Dr. Grant.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There had been a momentary flash of resentment when -he saw the watcher beside him, but Wilford was too weak, -too helpless to cherish that feeling long, and besides there -were floating through his still bewildered mind visions of -some friendly hand, which had ministered to him daily—of -a voice and form, distinct from the one he thought an -angel’s, and which was not there now with him. That -voice, that form, he felt sure belonged to Morris Grant, -and remembering his past harshness toward him, a chord -of gratitude was touched, and when Morris took his hand -he did not at once withdraw it, but let his long, white fingers -cling around the warm, vigorous ones, which seemed -to impart new life and strength.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You have been very sick,” Morris said, anticipating -the question Wilford would ask. “You are very sick still, -and at the request of your nurse I came to attend you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>A pressure of the hand was Wilford’s reply, and then -<span class='pageno' id='Page_354'>354</span>there was silence between them, while Wilford mastered -all his pride, and with quivering lips whispered,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“<em>Katy!</em>”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We have sent for her. We expect her every train,” -Morris replied, and Wilford asked,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Who has been with me—the nurse, I mean? Who is -she?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Morris hesitated a moment, and then said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Marian Hazelton.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know—yes,” Wilford replied, having no suspicion -as to <em>who</em> was standing outside his door, and listening, -with a throbbing heart, to his rational questions.</p> - -<p class='c011'>In all their vigils held together no sign had ever passed -from Dr. Grant to Marian that he knew her, but he had -waited anxiously for this moment, knowing that Wilford -must not be shocked, as a sight of Marian would shock him. -He knew she was outside the door, and as Wilford turned -his head upon the pillow, he went to her, and leading her -to a safe distance, said softly,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“His reason has returned.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And my services are ended,” Marian rejoined, looking -him steadily in the face, but not in the least prepared -for his affirmative question.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You are <em>Genevra Lambert</em>?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a low, gasping sound of surprise, and Marian -staggered forward a step or two, then steadying herself, -she said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And if I am, it surely is not best for him to see me. -You would not advise it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She looked wistfully at Morris, the great desire to be -recognized, to be spoken to kindly by the man who once -had been her husband overmastering for a moment all her -prudence.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It would not be best, both for his sake and <em>Katy’s</em>,” -Morris said, and with a moan like the dying out of her -last hope, Marian turned away, her eyes dim with tears -and her heart heavy with a sense of something lost, as -in the gray dawn of the morning she went back to her -former patients, who hailed her coming with childish joy, -one fair young boy from the Granite hills kissing the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_355'>355</span>hand which bandaged his poor crushed arm so tenderly, -and thanking her that she had returned to him again.</p> - -<hr class='c014'> - -<p class='c011'>“Mr. J. Cameron, Miss Bell Cameron,” were the names -on the cards sent to Dr. Grant late that afternoon, and in -a few moments he was with the father and sister who asked -so anxiously for Wilford and explained why Katy was -not with them.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford was sleeping when they entered his room, his -face looking so worn and thin, and his hands folded so -helplessly upon his breast, that with a gush of tears Bell -knelt beside him, and laying her warm cheek against his -bony one, woke him with her sobs. For a moment he -seemed bewildered, then recognizing her, he raised his -feeble arm and winding it about her neck, kissed her more -tenderly than he had ever done before. He had not been -demonstrative of his affection for his sisters. But Bell -was his favorite, and he held her close to him while his -eyes moved past his father, whom he did not see, on to -the door as if in quest of someone. It was Katy, and guessing -his thoughts, Bell said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She is not here. She could not come now. She is -sick in New York, but will join us in a few days.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a look of intense disappointment in Wilford’s -face, which even his father’s warm greeting could not dissipate, -and Morris saw the great tears as they dropped -upon the pillow, the proud man trying hard to repress -them, and asking no questions concerning any one at -home. He was too weak to talk, but he held Bell’s hand -in his as if afraid that she would leave him, while his -eyes rested alternately upon her face and that of his -father, who, wholly unmanned at the fearful change in his -son, laid his head upon the bed and cried aloud.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Next morning Bell was very white and her voice trembled -as she came from a conference with Dr. Morris, who -had told her that her brother would die.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He may live a week, and he may not,” he said, adding -solemnly, “As his sister you will tell him of his danger, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_356'>356</span>while there is time to seek the refuge without which death -is terrible.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, if I could only pray with and for him!” Bell -thought, as she went to her brother, mourning her misspent -days, and feeling her courage giving way when at -last she stood in his presence and met his kindly smile.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I dreamed that you were not here after all,” he said, -“I am so glad to find it real. How long before I can go -home, do you suppose?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He had stumbled upon the very thing Bell was there -to talk about, his question indicating that he had no suspicion -of the truth. Nor had he; and it came like a -thunderbolt when Bell, forgetting all her prudence, said -impetuously,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, Wilford, maybe you’ll never go home. Maybe -you’ll——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“<em>Not die</em>,” Wilford exclaimed, clasping his hands with -sudden emotion. “Not die—you don’t mean that? Who -told you so?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Dr. Grant,” was Bell’s reply, which brought a fierce -frown to Wilford’s face, and awoke all the angry passions -of his heart.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Dr. Grant,” he repeated. “He would like me removed -from his path; but it shall not be. I will not -die. Tell him that. I will not die,” and Wilford’s voice -was hoarse with passion as he raised his clenched fists in -the air.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He was terribly excited, and in her fright Bell ran for -Dr. Grant. But Wilford motioned him back, hurling -after him words which kept him from the room the entire -day, while the sick man rolled, and tossed, and raved in -the delirium, which had returned, and which wore him -out so fast. No one had the least influence over him, -except Marian Hazelton, who, without a glance at Mr. -Cameron or Bell, glided to his side, and with her presence -and gentle words soothed him into comparative quiet, so -that the bitter denunciations against the <em>saint</em>, who wanted -him to die, ceased, and he fell into a troubled sleep.</p> - -<p class='c011'>With a strange feeling of interest Mr. Cameron and -Bell watched her, wondering if she were indeed Genevra, -as Katy had affirmed. They would not ask her; and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_357'>357</span>both breathed more freely when, with a bow in acknowledgment -of Mr. Cameron’s compliment to her skill in -quieting his son, she left the room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>That night they watched with Wilford, who slept off -his delirium, and lay with his face turned from them, so -that they could not guess by its expression what was passing -in his mind.</p> - -<p class='c011'>All the next day he maintained the most frigid silence, -answering only in monosyllables, while Bell kept wiping -away the great drops of sweat constantly oozing out upon -his forehead and about the pallid lips.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Just at nightfall he startled Bell by asking that Dr. -Grant be sent for.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Please leave me alone with him,” he said, when Dr. -Morris came; then turning to Morris, as the door closed -upon his father and his sister, he said abruptly,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Pray for me, if you can pray for one who yesterday -hated you so for saying he must die.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Earnestly, fervently, Morris prayed, as for a dear -brother; and when he finished, Wilford’s faint “Amen” -sounded through the room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am not right yet,” the pale lips whispered, as Morris -sat down beside him. “Not right with God, I mean. -I’ve sometimes said there was no God; but I did not believe -it; and now I know there is. He has been moving -upon me all the day, driving out my bitterness toward -you, and causing me to send for you at last. Do you -think there is hope for me? I have much to be forgiven.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white -as snow,” Morris replied; and then he tried to point that -erring man to the Lamb of God, who taketh away the -sins of the world, convincing him that there <em>was</em> hope even -for him, and leaving him with the conviction that God -would surely finish the good work begun, nor suffer this -soul to be lost which had turned to Him at the eleventh -hour.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wilford knew his days were numbered, and he talked -freely of it to his father and sister the next morning when -they came to him. He did not say that he was ready or -willing to die, only that he must, and he asked them to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_358'>358</span>forget, when he was gone, all that had ever been amiss -in him as a son and brother.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I was too proud, too selfish, to make others happy,” -he said, “I thought it all over yesterday, and the past -came back again so vividly, especially the part connected -with Katy. Oh, Katy, I did abuse her!” and a bitter sob -attested the genuineness of Wilford’s grief for his treatment -of Katy. “I despised her family, I treated them -with contempt. I broke Katy’s heart, and now I must -die without telling her I am sorry. But you’ll tell her, -Bell, how I tried to pray, but could not for thoughts of -my sin to her. She will not be glad that I am dead. I -know her better than to think that; and I believe she -loves me. But, after I am gone, and the duties of the -world have closed up the gap I shall leave, I see a brighter -future for her than her past has been; and you may tell -her I am——” He could not say, “I am willing.” Few -husbands could have done so then, and he was not an -exception.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wholly exhausted, he lay quiet for a moment, and when -he spoke again, it was of <em>Genevra</em>. Even here he did not -try to screen himself. He was the one to blame, he said, -Genevra was true, was innocent, as he ascertained too late.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Would you like to see her, if she was living?” came -to Bell’s lips; but the fear that it would be too great a -shock, prevented their utterance.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He had no suspicion of her presence; and it was best -he should not. Katy was the one uppermost in his mind; -and in the letter Bell sent to her next day, he tried to -write, “Good-bye, my darling;” but the words were -scarcely legible, and his nerveless hand fell helpless at his -side as he said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She will never know the effort it cost me, nor hear -me say that I hope I am forgiven. It came to me last -night; and now the way is not so dark, but Katy will not -know.”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_359'>359</span> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XLIV.<br> <span class='large'>LAST HOURS.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Katy <em>would know</em>; for she was coming at last. A telegram -had announced that she was on the road; and with -nervous restlessness Wilford asked repeatedly what time it -was, reducing the hours to minutes, and counting his own -pulses to see if he could last so long.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Save me, Doctor,” he whispered to Morris, “keep me -alive till Katy comes. I must see Katy again.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And Morris, tenderer than a brother, did all he could -to keep the feeble breath from going out ere Katy came.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The train was due at five; but it was dark in the hospital, -and from every window a light was shining, when -Morris carried, rather than led, a quivering figure up the -stairs and through the hall to the room where the Camerons -were, the father standing at the foot of Wilford’s -bed, and Bell bending over his pillow, administering the -stimulants which kept her brother alive. When Katy -came in, she moved away, as did her father, while Morris -too stepped back into the hall; and thus the husband and -wife were left alone.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Katy, precious Katy, you have forgiven me?” Wilford -whispered, and the rain of tears and kisses on his -face was Katy’s answer as she hung over him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She had forgiven him, and she told him so when she -found voice to talk, wondering to find him so changed -from the proud, exacting, self-worshiping man to the -humble, repentant and self-accusing person, who took all -blame of the past to himself, and exonerated her from -every fault. But when he drew her close to him, and -whispered something in her ear, she knew whence came -the change, and a reverent “Thank the good Father,” -dropped from her lips.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The way was dark and thorny,” Wilford said, making -<span class='pageno' id='Page_360'>360</span>her sit down where he could see her as he talked, “and -only for God’s goodness I should have lost the path. But -he sent Morris Grant to point the road, and I trust I -am in it now. I wanted to tell you with my own lips -how sorry I am for what I have made you suffer; but -sorriest of all for sending Baby away. Oh, Katy, you do -not know how that rested upon my conscience. Forgive -me, Katy, that I robbed you of your child.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He was growing very weak, and he looked so white -and ghastly that Katy called for Bell, who came with her -father, and the three stood together around the bedside -of the dying.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You will remember me, Katy,” he said, “but you -cannot mourn for me always, and sometime in the future -you will cease to be my <em>widow</em>, and, Katy, I am willing. -I wanted to tell you this, so that no thought of me should -keep you from a life where you will be happier than I -have made you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Wholly bewildered, Katy made no reply, and Wilford -was silent a few moments, in which he seemed partially -asleep. Then rousing up, he said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You said once that Genevra was not dead. Did you -mean it, Katy?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Frightened and bewildered, Katy turned appealingly -to her father-in-law, who answered for her, “She meant -it—Genevra is not dead,” while a blood-red flush stained -Wilford’s face, and his fingers beat the bedspread thoughtfully.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I fancied once that she was here—that she was the -nurse the boys praise so much. But that was a delusion,” -he said, and without a thought of the result, Katy asked -impetuously, “if she were here would you care to see -her?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a startled look on Wilford’s face, and he -grasped Katy’s hand nervously, his frame trembling with -a dread of the great shock which he felt impending over -him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is she here? Was the nurse Genevra?” he asked. -Then, as his mind went back to the past, he answered his -own question by asserting “Marian Hazelton is Genevra.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>They did not contradict him, nor did he ask to see her. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_361'>361</span>With Katy there he felt he had better not; but after a -moment he continued, “It is all so strange. I thought -her dead. I do not comprehend how it can be. She has -been kind to me. Tell her I thank her for it. I was unjust -to her. I have much to answer for.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Between each word he uttered there was a gasp for -breath, and Father Cameron opened the window to admit -the cool night air. But nothing had power to revive -him. He was going very fast, Morris said, as he took his -stand by the bedside and watched the approach of death. -There were no convulsive struggles, only heavy breathings, -which grew farther and farther apart, until at last Wilford -drew Katy close to him, and winding his arm around -her neck, whispered,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am almost home, my darling, and all is well. Be -kind to Genevra for my sake. I loved her once, but not as -I love you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He never spoke again, and a few minutes later Morris -led Katy from the room, and then went out to give orders -for the embalming.</p> - -<hr class='c014'> - -<p class='c011'>In the little room she called her own, Marian Hazelton -sat, her beautiful hair disordered, and her eyes dim -with the tears she had shed. She knew that Wilford was -dead, and as if his dying had brought back all her olden -love she wept bitterly for the man who had so darkened -her life. She had not expected to see him with Katy -present; but now that it was over she might go to him. -There could be no harm in that. No one but Morris -would know who she was, she thought, when there came -a timid knock upon her door, and Katy entered, her face -very pale, and her manner very calm, as she came to -Marian, and kneeling down beside her, laid her head in -her lap with the air of a weary child who has sought its -mother for rest.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Poor little Katy!” Marian said; “your husband, they -tell me, is dead.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes;” and Katy lifted up her head, and fixing her -eyes earnestly upon Marian, continued, “Wilford is dead. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_362'>362</span>but before he died he left a message for <em>Genevra Lambert</em>. -Will she hear it now?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>With a sudden start Marian sprang to her feet, and demanded, -“Who told <em>you</em> of Genevra Lambert?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Wilford told me months ago, showing me her picture, -which I readily recognized, and I have pitied you so -much, knowing you were innocent. Wilford thought you -were dead,” Katy said, flinching a little before Marian’s -burning gaze, which fascinated even while it startled her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It is not often that two women meet bearing to each -other the relations these two bore, and it is not strange -that both felt constrained and embarrassed as they stood -looking at each other. As Marian’s was the stronger -nature, so she was the first to rally, and with the tears -swimming in her eyes she drew Katy closely to her, and -said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Now that he is gone I am glad you know it. Mine -has been a sad life, but God has helped me to bear it. -You say he believed me dead. Sometime I will tell you -how that came about; but now, his message,—he left one, -you say?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Carefully Katy repeated every word Wilford had said, -and with a gasping cry Marian wound her arms around -her neck, exclaiming,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And you <em>will</em> love me, because I have suffered so -much. You will let me call you Katy when we are alone. -It brings you nearer to me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Marian was now the weaker of the two, and it was -Katy’s task to comfort her, as sinking back in her chair -she sobbed,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He did love me once. He acknowledged it at the last, -before them all, his wife, his father and his sister. Do -they know?” she suddenly asked, and when assured that -they did, she relapsed into a silent mood, while Katy stole -quietly out and left her there alone.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Half an hour later and a female form passed hurriedly -through the hall and across the threshold into the chamber -where the dead man lay. There was no one with him -now, and Marian was free to weep out the pent-up sorrow -of her life, which she did with choking sobs and passionate -words poured into the ear, deaf to every human -<span class='pageno' id='Page_363'>363</span>sound. A step upon the floor startled her, and turning -round she stood face to face with Wilford’s father, who -was regarding her with a look which she mistook for one -of reproof and displeasure that she should be there.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Forgive me,” she said; “he was my husband once, and -surely now that he is dead you will not begrudge me a -few last moments with him for the sake of the days when -he loved me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There were many tender chords in the heart of Father -Cameron, and offering Marian his hand, he said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Far be it from me to refuse you this privilege. I -pity you, Genevra; I believe he dealt unjustly by you,—but -I will not censure him now that he is gone. He was -my only boy. Oh, Wilford, Wilford! you have left me -very lonely.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He released her hand, and Marian fled away, meeting -next with Bell, who felt that she must speak to her, but -was puzzled what to say. Bell could not define her feelings -towards Marian, or why she shrunk from approaching -her. It was not pride, but rather a feeling of prejudice, -as if Marian were in some way to blame for all the -trouble which had come to them, while her peculiar position -as the divorced wife of her brother made it the more -embarrassing. But she could not resist the mute pleading -of the eyes lifted so tearfully to her, as if asking for -a nod of recognition, and stopping before her she said, -softly,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“<em>Genevra.</em>”</p> - -<p class='c011'>That was all, but it made Genevra’s tears flow in torrents, -and she involuntarily held her hand out to Bell, -who took it, and holding it between her own, said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You were very kind to my brother. I thank you for it, -and will tell my mother, who will feel so grateful to you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This was a good deal for Bell to say, and after it was -said, she hastened away while Marian went on her daily -round of duties, speaking softer if possible to her patients -that day, and causing them to wonder what had come -over that sweet face to make it so white and tear-stained. -That night in Marian’s room Katy sat and listened to -what she did not before know of the strange story kept -from her so long. Marian confirmed all Wilford had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_364'>364</span>told, breathing no word of blame against him now that -he was dead, only stating facts, and leaving Katy to -draw her own conclusions.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I knew that I was handsome,” she said, “and I -liked to test my power; but for that weakness I have been -sorely punished. I had not at first any intention of making -him believe that I was dead, and when I sent the -paper containing the announcement of father’s death, I -was not aware that it also contained the death of my -cousin, a beautiful girl just my age, who bore our grand-mother’s -name of Genevra, and about whom and a young -English lord, who had hunted one season in her father’s -neighborhood, there were some scandalous reports. Afterwards -it occurred to me that Wilford would see that notice, -and naturally think it referred to me, inasmuch as he knew -nothing of my cousin Genevra.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It was just as well, I said—I <em>was</em> dead to him, and I -took a strange satisfaction in wondering if he would care. -Incidentally I heard that the postmaster at Alnwick had -been written to by an American gentleman, who asked if -such a person as <em>Genevra Lambert</em> was buried at St. -Mary’s; and then I knew he believed me dead, even though -the name appended to the letter was not Wilford Cameron, -nor was the writing his; for, as the cousin of the -dead Genevra, I asked to see the letter, and my request was -granted. It was Mrs. Cameron who wrote it, I am sure, -signing a feigned name and bidding the postmaster answer -to that address. He did so, assuring the inquirer -that Genevra Lambert was buried there, and wondering to -me if the young American who seemed interested in her -could have been a lover of the unfortunate girl.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I was now alone in the world, for the aunt with -whom my childhood was passed died soon after my father, -and so I went at last to learn a trade on the Isle of -Wight, emigrating from thence to New York, with the -determination in my rebellious heart that sometime, when -it would cut the deepest, I would show myself to the -proud Camerons, whom I so cordially hated. This was -before God had found me, or rather before I had listened -to the still, small voice which took the hard, vindictive -feelings away, and made me feel kindly towards the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_365'>365</span>mother and sisters when I saw them, as I often used to do, -driving gayly by. Wilford was sometimes with them, and -the sight of him always sent the hot blood surging through -my heart. But the greatest shock I ever had came to me -when I heard from your sister of his approaching marriage -with you. Those were terrible days that I passed -at the farm-house, working on your bridal trousseau; and -sometimes I thought it more than I could bear. Had -you been other than the little, loving, confiding, trustful -girl you were, I must have disclosed the whole, and told -that you would not be the first who had stood at the altar -with Wilford. But pity for you kept me silent, and you -became his wife.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I loved your baby almost as much as if it had been -my own, and when it died there was nothing to bind me -to the North, and so I came here, where I hope I have -done some good; at least I was here to care for Wilford, -and that is a sufficient reward for all the toil which falls -to the lot of a hospital nurse. I shall stay until the war -is ended, and then go I know not where. It will not be -best for us to meet very often, for though we respect -each other, neither can forget the past, nor that one was -the lawful, the other the divorced wife of the same man. -I have loved you, Katy Cameron, for your uniform kindness -shown to the poor dressmaker. I shall always love -you, but our paths lie widely apart. Your future I -can predict, but mine God only knows.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Marian had said all she meant to say, and all Katy -came to hear. The latter was to leave in the morning, -and when they would meet again neither could tell. Few -were the parting words they spoke, for the great common -sorrow welling up from their hearts; but when at last they -said good-bye, the bond of friendship between them was -more strongly cemented than ever, and Katy long remembered -Marian’s parting words,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“God bless you, Katy Cameron! You have been a bright, -sun spot in my existence since I first knew you, even -though you have stirred some of the worst impulses of my -nature. I am a better woman for having known you. God -bless you, Katy Cameron!”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_366'>366</span> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XLV.<br> <span class='large'>MOURNING.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>The grand funeral which Mrs. Cameron once had -planned for Katy was a reality at last, but the breathless -form lying so cold and still in the darkened room at No. -— Fifth Avenue, was that of a soldier embalmed—an -only son brought back to his father’s house amid sadness -and tears. They had taken him there rather than to his -own house, because it was the wish of his mother, who, -however hard and selfish she might be to others, had -idolized her son, and mourned for him truly, forgetting in -her grief to care how grand the funeral was, and feeling -only a passing twinge when told that <em>Mrs. Lennox</em> had -come from Silverton to pay the last tribute of respect to -her late son-in-law. Some little comfort it was to have her -boy lauded as a faithful soldier, and to hear the commendations -lavished upon him during the time he lay in state, -with his uniform around him; but when the whole was -over, and in the gray of the wintry afternoon her husband -returned from Greenwood, there came over her a feeling -of such desolation as she had never known—a feeling -which drove her at last to the little room upstairs, where -sat a lonely man, his head bowed upon his hands, and his -tears dropping silently upon the hearth-stone as he, too, -thought of the vacant parlor below and the new grave -at Greenwood.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, husband, comfort me!” fell from her lips as she -tottered to her husband, who opened his arms to receive -her, forgetting all the years which had made her the cold, -proud woman, who needed no sympathy, and remembering -only that bright green summer when she was first his -bride, and came to him for comfort in every little grievance, -just as now she came in this great, crushing sorrow.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He did not tell her she was reaping what she had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_367'>367</span>sown, that but for her pride and deception concerning -Genevra, Wilford might never have gone to the war, or -they been without a son. He did not reproach her at all, -but soothed her tenderly, calling her by her maiden name, -and awkwardly smoothing her hair, silvered now with gray, -and feeling for a moment that Wilford had not died in -vain, if by his dying he gave back to his father the wife -so lost during the many years since fashion and folly -had been the idols she worshiped. But the habits of years -could not be lightly broken, and Mrs. Cameron’s mind -soon became absorbed in the richness of her mourning, and -the strict etiquette of her mourning days. To Katy she -was very kind, caressing her with unwonted affection, and -scarcely suffering her to leave her sight, much less to stay -for a day at Mrs. Banker’s, where Katy secretly preferred -to be. Of Genevra, too, she talked with Katy, and -at her instigation wrote a friendly letter, thanking <em>Mrs. -Lambert</em> for all her kindness to her son, expressing her -sorrow that she had ever been so unjust to her, and sending -her a handsome locket, containing on one side a lock -of Wilford’s hair, and on the other his picture, taken from -a large sized photograph. Mrs. Cameron felt herself a -very good woman after she had done all this, together with -receiving Mrs. Lennox at her own house, and entertaining -her for one whole day; but at heart there was no real -change, and as time passed on she gradually fell back into -her old ways of thinking, and went no more for comfort -to her husband as she had on that first night after the -burial.</p> - -<p class='c011'>With Mr. Cameron the blow struck deeper, and his -Wall Street friends talked together of the old man he had -grown since Wilford died, while Katy often found him -bending over his long-neglected Bible, as he sat alone in -his room at night. And when at last she ventured to -speak to him upon the all-important subject, he put his -hand in hers, and bade her teach him the narrow way -which she had found, and wherein Wilford too had walked -at the very last, they hoped.</p> - -<p class='c011'>For many weeks Katy lingered in New York, and the -June roses were blooming when she went back to Silverton, -a widow and the rightful owner of all Wilford’s ample -<span class='pageno' id='Page_368'>368</span>fortune. They had found among his papers a will, drawn -up and executed not long before his illness, and in which -Katy was made his heir, without condition or stipulation. -All was hers to do with as she pleased, and Katy wept -passionately when she heard how generous Wilford had -been. Then, as she thought of Marian and the life of -poverty before her, she crept to Father Cameron’s side, -and said to him, pleadingly,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Let <em>Genevra</em> share it with me. She needs it quite as -much.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Father Cameron would not permit Katy to divide -equally with Marian. It was not just, he said; but he -did not object to a few thousands going to her, and before -Katy left New York for Silverton, she wrote a long, -kind letter to Marian, presenting her with ten thousand -dollars, which she begged her to accept, not so much as a -gift, but as her rightful due. There was a moment’s -hesitancy on the part of Marian when she read the letter, -a feeling that she could not take so much from Katy; -but when she looked at the pale sufferers around her, and -remembered how many wretched hearts that money would -help to cheer, she said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I will keep it.”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XLVI.<br> <span class='large'>PRISONERS OF WAR.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>The heat, the smoke, the thunder of the battle were -over, and the fields of Gettysburg were drenched with -human blood and covered with the dead and dying. The -contest had been fearful, and its results carried sorrow -and anguish to many a heart waiting for tidings from the -war, and looking so anxiously for the names of the loved -ones who, on the anniversary of the day which saw our -nation’s Independence, lay upon the hills and plains of -Gettysburg, their white faces upturned to the summer sky, -and wet with the rain=drops, which, like tears for the noble -dead, the pitying clouds had shed upon them. And nowhere, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_369'>369</span>perhaps, was there a whiter face or a more anxious -heart than at the farm-house, where both Helen and her -mother-in-law were spending the hot July days. Since -the Christmas eve when Helen had watched her husband -going from her across the wintry snow, he had not been -back, though several times he had made arrangements to -do so. Something, however, had always happened to prevent. -Once it was sickness which kept him in bed for a -week or more; again his regiment was ordered to advance, -and the third time it was sent on with others to -repel the invaders from Pennsylvanian soil. Bravely -through each disappointment Helen bore herself, but her -cheek always grew paler and her eye darker in its hue -when the evening papers came, and she read what progress -our soldiery had made, feeling that a battle was inevitable, -and praying so earnestly that Mark Ray might -be spared. Then, when the battle was over and up the -northern hills came the dreadful story of thousands and -thousands slain, there was a fearful look in her eye, and -her features were rigid as marble, while the quivering -lips could scarcely pray for the great fear tugging at her -heart. Mark Ray was not with his men when they came -from that terrific onslaught. A dozen had seen him -fall, struck down by a rebel ball, and that was all she -heard for more than a week, when there came another -relay of news.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Captain Mark Ray was a prisoner of war, with several -of his own company. An inmate of Libby Prison and a -sharer from choice of the apartment where his men were -confined. As an officer he was entitled to better quarters; -but Mark Ray had a large, warm heart, and he would -not desert those who had been so faithful to him, and so -he took their fare, and by his genial humor and unwavering -cheerfulness kept many a heart from fainting, and -made the prison life more bearable than it could have -been without him. To young Tom Tubbs, who had enlisted -six months before, he was a ministering angel, and -many times the poor homesick boy crept to the side of his -captain, and laying his burning head in his lap, wept -himself to sleep and dreamed he was at home again. The -horrors of that prison life have never been told, but Mark -<span class='pageno' id='Page_370'>370</span>bore up manfully, suffering less in mind, perhaps, than -did the friends at home, who lived, as it were, a thousand -years in that one brief summer while he remained in -Richmond.</p> - -<p class='c011'>At last, as the frosty days of October came on, they -began to hope he might be exchanged, and Helen’s face -grew bright again, until one day there came a soiled, -half-worn letter, in Mark’s own handwriting. It was -the first word received from <em>him</em> since his capture in July, -and with a cry of joy Helen snatched it from Uncle Ephraim, -for she was still at the farm-house, and sitting down -upon the doorstep just where she had been standing, read -the words which Mark had sent to her. He was very well, -he said, and had been all the time, but he pined for home, -longing for the dear girl-wife never so dear as now, when -separated by so many miles, with prison walls on every -side, and an enemy’s line between them.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But be of good cheer, darling,” he wrote, “I shall -come back to you some time, and life will be all the -brighter for what you suffer now. I am so glad my darling -consented to be my wife, even though I could stay with -her but a moment. The knowing you are really mine -makes me happy even here, for I think of you by day, and -in my dreams I always hold you in my arms and press -you to my heart.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>A hint he gave of being sent further south, and then -hope died out of Helen’s heart.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I shall never see him again,” she said despairingly; and -when the message came that Mark had been removed, -and that too just at the time when an exchange was constantly -expected, she gave him up as lost, feeling almost as -much widowed as Katy in her weeds.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Slowly the winter passed away, and the country was -rife with stories of our men, daily dying by hundreds, -while those who survived were reduced to maniacs or -imbeciles. And Helen, as she listened, grew nearly frantic -with the sickening suspense. She did not know now where -her husband was. He had made several attempts to escape, -and with each failure had been removed to safer -quarters, so that his chances for being exchanged seemed -very far away. Week after week, month after month -<span class='pageno' id='Page_371'>371</span>passed on, until came the memorable battle of the Wilderness, -when Lieutenant Bob, as yet unharmed, stood -bravely in the thickest of the tight, his tall figure towering -above the rest, and his soldier’s uniform buttoned -over a dark tress of hair, and a face like Bell Cameron’s. -Lieutenant Bob had taken two or three furloughs; but the -one which had left the sweetest, pleasantest memory in -his heart, was that of the autumn before, when the crimson -leaves of the maple, and the golden tints of the beech, -were burning themselves out on the hills of Silverton, -where his furlough was mostly passed, and where with -Bell Cameron he scoured the length and breadth of Uncle -Ephraim’s farm, now stopping by the shore of Fairy Point -and again sitting for hours on a ledge of rocks, far up -the hill, where beneath the softly whispering pines, nodding -above their heads, Bell gathered the light-brown -cones, and said to him the words he had so thirsted to -hear.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Much of Bell’s time was passed with Katy, at the farm-house, -and here Lieutenant Reynolds found her, accepting -readily of Uncle Ephraim’s hearty invitation to remain, -and spending his entire vacation there with the exception -of three days, given to his family. Perfectly charmed with -quaint Aunt Betsy, he flattered and courted her almost as -much as he did Bell, but did not take her with him in his -long rambles over the hills, or sit with her at night alone -in the parlor until the clock struck twelve—a habit which -Aunt Betsy greatly disapproved, but overlooked for this -once, seeing, as she said, that</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The young leftenant was none of her <em>kin</em>, and <em>Isabel</em> -only a little.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Those were halcyon days which Robert passed at Silverton -but one stood out prominently before him, whether -sitting before his camp-fire or plunging into the battle; -and that the one when, casting aside all pride and foolish -theories, Bell Cameron freely acknowledged her love for -the man to whom she had been so long engaged, and paid -him back the kisses she had before refused to give.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I shall be a better soldier for this,” Robert had said, -as he guided her down the steep ledge of rocks, and with -her hand in his, walked slowly back to the farm-house, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_372'>372</span>which, on the morrow, he left to take again his place in -the army.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There were no more furloughs for him after that; and -the winter passed away, bringing the spring again, when -came that battle in the Wilderness, where, like a hero, he -fought until, becoming separated from his comrades, he -fell into the enemy’s hands; and two days after, there -sped along the telegraphic wires to New York,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Lieutenant Robert Reynolds, captured the first day -of the battle.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Afterwards came news that Andersonville was his destination, -together with many others made prisoners that -day.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It is better than being shot, and a great deal better -than being burned, as some of the poor wretches were,” -Juno said, trying to comfort Bell, who doubted a little -her sister’s word.</p> - -<p class='c011'>True there was now the shadow of a hope that he -might return; but the probabilities were against it; and -Bell’s face grew almost as white as Helen’s, while her eyes -acquired that restless, watchful, anxious look which has -crept into the eyes of so many sorrowing women, looking -away to the southward, where the dear ones were dying.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XLVII.<br> <span class='large'>DOCTOR GRANT.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Morris had served out his time as surgeon in the army, -had added to it an extra six months; and by his humanity, -his skill, and Christian kindness, made for himself a name -which would be long remembered by the living to whom -he had ministered so carefully; while many a dying -soldier had blessed him for pointing out the way which -leadeth to the life everlasting; and in many a mourning -family his name was a household word, for the good he had -done to a dying son and brother. But Morris’s hospital -work was over. He had gone a little too far, and incurred -<span class='pageno' id='Page_373'>373</span>too much risk, until his own strength had failed; and -now, in the month of June, when Linwood was bright -with the early summer blossoms, he was coming back with -health greatly impaired, and a dark cloud before his -vision, so that he could not see how beautiful his home -was looking, or gaze into the faces of those who waited so -anxiously to welcome their beloved physician. <em>Blind</em> -some said he was; but the few lines sent to Helen, announcing -the day of his arrival, contradicted that report. -His eyes were very much diseased, his amanuensis wrote; -but he trusted that the pure air of his native hills, and -the influence of old scenes and associations would soon -effect a cure. “If not too much trouble,” he added, -“please see that the house is made comfortable, and have -John meet me on Friday at the station.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Helen was glad Morris was coming home, for he always -did her good; he could comfort her better than any -one else, unless it were Katy, whose loving, gentle words -of hope were very soothing to her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Poor Morris!” she sighed, as she finished his letter, -and then took it to the family, who were sitting upon the -pleasant piazza, which, at Katy’s expense and her own, -had been added to the house, and overlooked Fairy Pond -and the pleasant hills beyond.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Morris is coming home,” she said. “He will be here -on Friday, and he wishes us to see that all things are in -order at Linwood for his reception. His eyes are badly -diseased, but he hopes that coming back to us will cure -him,” she added, glancing at Katy, who sat upon a step -of the piazza, her hands folded together upon her lap, and -her blue eyes looking far off into the fading sunset.</p> - -<p class='c011'>When she heard Morris’s name, she turned her head a -little, so that the ripple of her golden hair was more -distinctly visible beneath the silken net she wore; but she -made no comment nor showed by any sign that she heard -what they were saying. Katy was very lovely and consistent -in her young widowhood, and not a whisper of -gossip had the Silvertonians coupled with her name since -she came to them, leaving her husband in Greenwood. -There had been no parading of her grief before the public, -or assumption of greater sorrow than many others had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_374'>374</span>known; but the soberness of her demeanor, and the calm, -subdued expression of her face, attested to what she had -suffered. Sixteen months had passed since Wilford died, -and she still wore her deep mourning weeds, except the -widow’s cap, which, at her mother’s and Aunt Betsy’s -earnest solicitations, she had laid aside, substituting in -its place a simple net, which confined her waving hair -and kept it from breaking out in flowing curls, as it was -disposed to do.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy had never been prettier than she was now, in her -mature womanhood, and to the poor and sorrowful whose -homes she cheered so often she was an angel of goodness.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Truly she had been purified by suffering; the dross -had been burned out, and only the gold remained, shedding -its brightness on all with which it came in contact.</p> - -<p class='c011'>They would miss her at the farm-house now more than -they did when she first went away, for she made the sunshine -of their home, filling Helen’s place when she was -in New York, and when she came back proving to her a -stay and comforter. Indeed, but for Katy’s presence -Helen often felt that she could not endure the sickening -suspense and doubt which hung so darkly over her husband’s -fate.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He is alive; he <em>will</em> come back,” Katy always said, -and from her perfect faith Helen, too, caught a glimpse -of hope.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Could they have forgotten Mark they would have been -very happy at the farm-house now, for with the budding -spring and blossoming summer Katy’s spirits had returned, -and her old musical laugh rang through the -house just as it used to do in the happy days of girlhood, -while the same silvery voice which led the choir in -the brick church, and sang with the little children their -Sunday hymns, often broke forth into snatches of songs, -which made even the robins listen, as they built their -nests in the trees.</p> - -<p class='c011'>If Katy thought of Morris, she never spoke of him -when she could help it. It was a morbid fancy to which -she clung, that duty to Wilford’s memory required her -to avoid the man who had so innocently come between -<span class='pageno' id='Page_375'>375</span>them; and when she heard he was coming home she felt -more pain than pleasure, though for an instant the blood -throbbed through her veins as she thought of Morris at -Linwood, just as he used to be.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The day of his return was balmy and beautiful, and at -an early hour Helen went over to Linwood to see that -everything was in order for his arrival, while Katy followed -at a later hour, wondering if Wilford would object -if he knew she was going to welcome Morris, who might -misconstrue her motives if she stayed away.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was very little for her to do, Helen and Mrs. -Hull having done all that was necessary, but she went -from room to room, lingering longest in Morris’s own -apartment, where she made some alterations in the arrangement -of the furniture, putting one chair a little -more to the right, and pushing a stand or table to the -left, just as her artistic eye dictated. By some oversight -no flowers had been put in there, but Katy gathered a -bouquet and left it on the mantel, just where she remembered -to have seen flowers when Morris was at home.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He will be tired,” she said. “He will lie down after -dinner,” and she laid a few sweet English violets upon -his pillow, thinking their perfume might be grateful to -him after the pent-up air of the hospital and cars. “He -will think Helen put them there, or Mrs. Hull,” she -thought, as she stole softly out and shut the door behind -her, glancing next at the clock, and feeling a little impatient -that a whole hour must elapse before they could -expect him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Poor Morris! he did not dream how anxiously he was -waited for at home, nor of the crowd assembled at the -depot to welcome back the loved physician, whose name -they had so often heard coupled with praise as a true -hero, even though his post was not in the front of the -battle. Thousands had been cared for by him, their gaping -wounds dressed skillfully, their aching heads soothed -tenderly, and their last moments made happier by the -words he spoke to them of the world to which they were -going, where there is no more war or shedding of man’s -blood. In the churchyard at Silverton there were three -soldiers’ graves, whose pale occupants had died with Dr. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_376'>376</span>Grant’s hand held tightly in theirs, as if afraid that he -would leave them before the dark river was crossed, while -in more than one Silverton home there was a wasted -soldier, who never tired of telling Dr. Morris’s praise -and dwelling on his goodness. But Dr. Morris was not -thinking of this as, faint and sick, with the green shade -before his eyes, he leaned against the pile of shawls his -companion had placed for his back, and wondered if they -were almost there.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I smell the pond lilies; we must be near Silverton,” -he said, and a sigh escaped him as he thought of coming -home and not being able to <em>see</em> it or the woods and fields -around it. “Thy will be done,” he had said many times -since the fear first crept into his heart that for him the -light had faded.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But now, when home was almost reached, and he began -to breathe the air from the New England hills and -the perfume of the New England lilies, the flesh rebelled -again, and he cried out within himself, “Oh, I cannot -be blind! God will not deal thus by me!” while keen as -the cut of a sharpened knife was the pang with which he -thought of Katy, and wondered would she care if he were -blind.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Just then the long train stopped at Silverton, and, led -by his attendant, he stepped feebly into the crowd, which -sent up deafening cheers for Dr. Grant come home again. -At the sight of his helplessness, however; a feeling of awe -fell upon them, and whispering to each other, “I did not -suppose he was so bad,” they pressed around him, offering -their hands and inquiring anxiously how he was.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have been sick, but I shall get better now. The -very sound of your friendly voices does me good,” he -said, as he went slowly to his carriage, led by Uncle -Ephraim, who could not keep back his tears when he -saw how weak Morris was, and how he panted for breath -as he leaned back among the cushions.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was very pleasant that afternoon, and Morris enjoyed -the drive so much, assuring Uncle Ephraim, that he was -growing better every moment. He did seem stronger -when the carriage stopped at Linwood, and he went up the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_377'>377</span>steps where Helen, Katy, and Mrs. Hull were waiting -for him. He could not by sight distinguish one from the -other, but without the aid of her voice he would have -known when Katy’s hand was put in his, it was so small, -so soft, and trembled so as he held it. She forgot Wilford -in her excitement. Pity was the strongest feeling of -which she was conscious, and it manifested itself in various -ways.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Let <em>me</em> lead you, Cousin Morris,” she said, as she saw -him groping his way to his room, and without waiting for -his reply, she held his hand again in hers and led him -to his room, where the English violets were.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I used to lead <em>you</em>,” Morris said, as he took his seat by -the window, “and I little thought then that you would -one day return the compliment. It is very hard to be -blind.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The tone of his voice was inexpressibly sad, but his -smile was as cheerful as ever as his face turned towards -Katy, who could not answer for her tears. It seemed so -terrible to see a strong man so stricken, and that strong -man Morris—terrible to watch him in his helplessness, -trying to appear as of old, so as to cast on others no part -of the shadow resting so darkly on himself. When dinner -was over and the sun began to decline, many of his former -friends came in; but he looked so pale and weary that -they did not tarry long, and when the last one was gone, -Morris was led back to his room, which he did not leave -again until the summer was over, and the luscious fruits -of September were ripening upon the trees.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Towards the middle of July, Helen, whose health was -suffering from her anxiety concerning Mark, was taken -by Mrs. Banker to Nahant, where Mark’s sister, Mrs. -Ernst, was spending the summer, and thus on Katy fell -the duty of paying to Morris those acts of sisterly attention -such as no other member of the family knew how to -pay. In the room where he lay so helpless Katy was not -afraid of him, nor did she deem herself faithless to Wilford’s -memory, because each day found her at Linwood, -sometimes bathing Morris’s inflamed eyes, sometimes -bringing him the cooling drink, and again reading to him -<span class='pageno' id='Page_378'>378</span>by the hour, until, soothed by the music of her voice, he -would fall away to sleep and dream he heard the angels -sing.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My eyes are getting better,” he said to her one day toward -the latter part of August, when she came as usual to -his room. “I knew last night that Mrs. Hull’s dress was -blue, and I saw the sun shine through the shutters. Very -soon, I hope to see you, Katy, and know if you have -changed.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was standing close by him, and as he talked he -raised his hand to rest it on her head, but, with a sudden -movement, Katy eluded the touch, and stepped a little -further from him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>When next she went to Linwood there was in her manner -a shade of dignity, which both amused and interested -Morris. He did not know for certain that Wilford had -told Katy of the confession made that memorable night -when her recovery seemed so doubtful, but he more than -half suspected it from the shyness of her manner, and -from the various excuses she began to make for not coming -to Linwood as often as she had heretofore done.</p> - -<p class='c011'>In his great pity for Katy when she was first a widow, -Morris had scarcely remembered that she was free, or if -it did flash upon his mind, he thrust the thought aside -as injustice to the dead; but as the months and the year -went by, and he heard constantly from Helen of Katy’s -increasing cheerfulness, it was not in his nature never to -think of what might be, and more than once he had prayed, -that if consistent with his Father’s will, the woman he -had loved so well, should yet be his. If not, he could go -his way alone, just as he had always done, knowing that -it was right.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Such was the state of Morris’s mind when he returned -from Washington, but now it was somewhat different. -The weary weeks of sickness, during which Katy had -ministered to him so kindly, had not been without their -effect, and if Morris had loved the frolicsome, child-like -Katy Lennox, he loved far more the gentle, beautiful woman, -whose character had been so wonderfully developed -by suffering, and who was more worthy of his love than -in her early girlhood.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_379'>379</span>“I cannot lose her now,” was the thought constantly -in Morris’s mind, as he experienced more and more how -desolate were the days which did not bring her to him. -“It is twenty months since Wilford died,” he said to himself -one wet October afternoon, when he sat listening -dreamily to the patter of the rain falling upon the windows, -and looking occasionally across the fields to the -farm-house, in the hope of spying in the distance the -little airy form, which, in its water-proof and cloud, had -braved worse storms than this at the time he was so ill.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But no such figure appeared. He hardly expected it -would; but he watched the pathway just the same, and -the smoke-wreaths rising so high above the farm-house. -The deacon burned out his chimney that day, and Morris, -whose sight had greatly improved of late, knew it by the -dense, black volume of smoke, mingled with rings of fire, -which rose above the roof, remembering so well another -rainy day, twenty years ago, when the deacon’s chimney -was cleaned, and a little toddling girl, in scarlet gown -and white pinafore, had amused herself with throwing -into the blazing fire upon the hearth a straw at a time, -almost upsetting herself with standing so far back, and -making such efforts to reach the flames. A great deal had -passed since then. The little girl in the pinafore had -been both wife and mother. She was a widow now, and -Morris glanced across his hearth toward the empty chair -he had never seen in imagination filled by any but herself.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Surely, she would some day be his own,” and leaning -his head upon the cane he carried, he prayed earnestly for -the good he coveted, keeping his head down so long that, -until it had left the strip of woods and emerged into the -open fields, he did not see the figure wrapped in water-proof -and hood, with a huge umbrella over its head and -a basket upon its arm, which came picking its way -daintily toward the house, stopping occasionally, and lifting -up the little high-heeled Balmoral, which the mud was -ruining so completely. Katy was coming to Linwood. It -had been baking-day at the farm-house, and remembering -how much Morris used to love her custards, Aunt Betsy -<span class='pageno' id='Page_380'>380</span>had prepared him some, and asked Katy to take them -over, so he could have them for tea.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The rain won’t hurt you an atom,” she said as Katy -began to demur, and glance at the lowering sky. “You -can wear your water-proof boots and my shaker, if you -like, and I do so want Morris to have them to-night.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Thus importuned, Katy consented to go, but declined -the loan of Aunt Betsy’s shaker, which being large of the -kind, and capeless, too, was not the most becoming head-gear -a woman could wear. With the basket of custards, -and cup of jelly, Katy finally started, Aunt Betsy saying -to her, as she stopped to take up her dress, “It must be -dretful lonesome for Morris to-day. S’posin’ you stay -to supper with him, and when it’s growin’ dark I’ll come -over for you. You’ll find the custards fust rate.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy made no reply, and walked away, while Aunt -Betsy went back to the coat she was patching for her -brother, saying to herself,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’m bound to fetch that round. It’s a shame for two -young folks, just fitted to each other, to live apart when -they might be so happy, with Hannah, and Lucy, and me, -close by, to see to ’em, and allus make their soap, and -see to the butcherin’, besides savin’ peneryle and catnip -for the children, if there was any.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Aunt Betsy had turned match-maker in her old age, -and day and night she planned how to bring about the -match between Morris and Katy. That they were made -for each other, she had no doubt. From something which -Helen inadvertently let fall, she had guessed that Morris -loved Katy prior to her marriage with Wilford. She -had suspected as much before; she was sure of it now, -and straightway put her wits to work “to make it go,” -as she expressed it. But Katy was too shy to suit her, -and since Morris’s convalescence, had stayed too much from -Linwood. To-day, however, Aunt Betsy “felt it in her -bones,” that if properly managed something would happen, -and the custards were but the means to the desired -end. With no suspicion whatever of the good dame’s intentions, -Katy picked her way to Linwood, and leaving -her damp garments in the hall, went at once into the -library, where Morris was sitting near to a large chair -<span class='pageno' id='Page_381'>381</span>kept sacred for her, his face looking unusually cheerful, -and the room unusually pleasant, with the bright wood -fire on the hearth.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have been so lonely, with no company but the rain,” -he said, pushing the chair a little towards her, and bidding -her sit near the fire, where she could dry her feet.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy obeyed, and sat down so near to him that had he -chosen he might have touched the golden hair, fastened -in heavy coils low on her neck, and giving to her a very -girlish appearance, as Morris thought, for he could see -her now, and while she dried her feet he looked at her -eagerly, wondering that the fierce storm she had encountered -had left so few traces upon her face. Just about -the mouth there was a deep cut line, but this was all; the -remainder of the face was fair and smooth as in her early -girlhood, and far more beautiful, just as her character -was lovelier, and more to be admired.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Morris had done well to wait if he could win her now. -Perhaps he thought so, too, and this was why his spirits -became so gay as he kept talking to her, suggesting at -last that she should stay to tea. The rain was falling in -torrents when he made the proposition. She could not -go then, even had she wished it, and though it was earlier -than his usual time, Morris at once rang for Mrs. Hull, -and ordered that tea be served as soon as possible.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I ought not to stay. It is not proper,” Katy kept -thinking, as she fidgeted in her chair, and watched the -girl setting the table for two, and occasionally deferring -some debatable point to her as if she were mistress there.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You can go now, Reekie,” Morris said, when the boiling -water was poured into the silver kettle, and tea was -on the table. “If we need you we will ring.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>With a vague wonder as to who would toast the doctor’s -bread, and butter it, Reekie departed, and the two -were left together. It was Katy who toasted the bread, -kneeling upon the hearth, burning her face and scorching -the bread in her nervousness at the novel position in which -she so unexpectedly found herself. It was Katy, too, who -prepared Morris’s tea, and tried to eat, but could not. She -was not hungry, she said, and the custard was the only -thing she tasted, besides the tea, which she sipped at -<span class='pageno' id='Page_382'>382</span>frequent intervals so as to make Morris think she was eating -more than she was. But Morris was not deceived, nor -disheartened. Possibly she suspected his intention, and if -so, the sooner he reached the point the better. So when -the tea equipage was put away, and she began again to -speak of going home, he said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, Katy, you can’t go yet, till I have said what’s in -my mind to say,” and laying his hand upon her shoulder -he made her sit down beside him and listen while he told -her of the love he had borne for her long before she knew -the meaning of that word as she knew it now—of the -struggle to keep that love in bounds after its indulgence -was a sin; of his temptations and victories, of his sincere -regret for Wilford, and of his deep respect for her grief, -which made her for a time as a sister to him. But that -time had passed. She was not his sister now, nor ever -could be again. She was Katy, dearer, more precious, -more desired even than before another called her wife, -and he asked her to be his, to come up there to Linwood -and live with him, making the rainy days brighter, -balmier, than the sunniest had ever been, and helping him -in his work of caring for the poor and sick around them.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Will Katy come? Will she be the wife of Cousin -Morris?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a world of pathos and pleading in the voice -which asked this question, just as there was a world of -tenderness in the manner with which Morris caressed and -fondled the bowed head resting on the chair arm. And -Katy felt it all, understanding what it was to be offered -such a love as Morris offered, but only comprehending in -part what it would be to refuse that love. For her blinded -judgment said she must refuse it. Had there been no sad -memories springing from that grave in Greenwood, no -bitter reminiscences connected with her married life—had -Wilford never heard of Morris’s love and taunted her -with it, she might perhaps consent, for she craved the -rest there would be with Morris to lean upon. But the -happiness was too great for her to accept. It would seem -too much like faithlessness to Wilford, too much as if he -had been right, when he charged her with preferring -Morris to himself.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_383'>383</span>“It cannot be;—oh, Morris, it cannot be,” she sobbed, -when he pressed her for an answer. “Don’t ask me why—don’t -ever mention it again, for I tell you it cannot -be. My answer is final; it cannot be. I am sorry for -you, so sorry! I wish you had never loved me, for it -cannot be.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She writhed herself from the arms which tried to detain -her, and rising to her feet left the room suddenly, -and throwing on her wrappings quitted the house without -another word, leaving basket and umbrella behind, -and never knowing she had left them, or how the rain -was pouring down upon her unsheltered person, until, as -she entered the narrow strip of woodland, she was met -by Aunt Betsy, who exclaimed at seeing her, and asked,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What has become of your <em>umberell</em>? Your silk one -too. It’s hopeful you haven’t lost it. What has happened -you?” and coming closer to Katy, Aunt Betsy looked -searchingly in her face. It was not so dark that she -could not see the traces of recent tears, and instinctively -suspecting their nature she continued, “Cather<em>ine</em>, have -you gin Morris the mitten?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Aunt Betsy, is it possible that you and Morris contrived -this plan?” Katy asked, half indignantly, as she -began in part to understand her aunt’s great anxiety for -her to visit Linwood that afternoon.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Morris had nothing to do with it,” Aunt Betsy replied. -“It was my doin’s wholly, and this is the thanks -I git. You quarrel with him and git mad at me, who -thought only of your good. Cather<em>ine</em>, you know you like -Morris Grant, and if he asked you to have him why -don’t you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I can’t, Aunt Betsy. I can’t, after all that has passed. -It would be unjust to Wilford.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Unjust to Wilford—fiddlesticks!” was Aunt Betsy’s -expressive reply, as she started on toward Linwood, saying, -“she was going after the umberell before it got lost, -with nobody there to tend to things as they should be -tended to. Have you any word to send?” she asked, -hoping Katy had relented.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Katy had not; and with a toss of her head, which -shook the rain drops from her capeless shaker, Aunt Betsy -<span class='pageno' id='Page_384'>384</span>went on her way, and was soon confronting Morris, sitting -just where Katy had left him, and looking very pale and -sad.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He was not glad to see Aunt Betsy. He would rather -be alone until such time as he could control himself and -still his throbbing heart. But with his usual affability, -he bade Aunt Betsy sit down, shivering a little when he -saw her in the chair where Katy had sat, her thin, -angular body presenting a striking contrast to the graceful, -girlish figure which had sat there an hour since, and -the huge india rubbers she held up to the fire, as unlike -as possible to the boot of fairy dimensions he had admired -so much when it was drying on the hearth.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I met Cather<em>ine</em>,” Aunt Betsy began, “and mistrusted -at once that something was to pay, for a girl don’t leave -her umberell in such a rain and go cryin’ home for -nothin’.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Morris colored, resenting for an instant this interference -by a third party; but Aunt Betsy was so honest and -simple-hearted, that he could not be angry long, and he -listened calmly, while she continued,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have not lived sixty odd years for nothing, and I -know the signs pretty well. I’ve been through the mill -myself.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Here Aunt Betsy’s voice grew lower in its tone, and -Morris looked up with real interest, while she went on,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“There’s Joel Upham—you know Joel—keeps a tin-shop -now, and seats the folks in meetin’. He asked me -once for my company, and to be smart I told him <em>no</em>, -when all the time I meant <em>yes</em>, thinkin’ he would ask -agin; but he didn’t, and the next I knew he was keepin’ -company with Patty Adams, now his wife. I remembered -I sniveled a little at being taken at my word, but it -served me right, for saying one thing when I meant -another. However, it don’t matter now. Joel is as clever -as the day is long, but he is a shiftless critter, never splits -his kindlins till jest bedtime, and Patty is pestered to -death for wood, while his snorin’ nights she says is awful, -and that I never could abide; so, on the whole, I’m better -off than Patty.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_385'>385</span>Morris laughed a loud, hearty laugh, which emboldened -his visitor to say more than she had intended saying.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You just ask her agin. Once ain’t nothing at all, -and she’ll come to. She likes you; ’taint that which made -her say no. It’s some foolish idea about faithfulness to -Wilford, as if he deserved that she should be faithful. -They never orto have had one another,—never; and now -that he is well in Heaven, as I do suppose he is, it ain’t -I who hanker for him to come back. Neither does Katy, -and all she needs is a little urging, to tell you yes. So -ask her again, will you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I think it very doubtful. Katy knew what she was -doing, and meant what she said,” Morris replied; and -with the consoling remark that if young folks would be -fools it was none of her business to bother with them, -Aunt Betsy pinned her shawl across her chest, and hunting -up both basket and umbrella, bade Morris good night, -and went back across the fields to the farm-house, hearing -from Mrs. Lennox that Katy had gone to bed with a racking -headache.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XLVIII.<br> <span class='large'>KATY.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>“Are you of the same mind still?” Helen asked, when -three weeks later she returned from New York, and at the -hour for retiring sat in her chamber watching Katy as -she brushed her hair, occasionally curling a tress around -her fingers and letting it fall upon her snowy nightdress.</p> - -<p class='c011'>They had been talking of Morris, whom Katy had seen -but once since that rainy night, and that at church, where -he had been the previous Sunday. Katy had written an -account of the transaction to her sister, who had chosen -to reply by word of mouth rather than by letter, and so -the first moment they were alone she seized the opportunity -to ask if Katy was of the same mind still as when she -refused the doctor.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_386'>386</span>“Yes, why shouldn’t I be?” Katy replied. “You, better -than any one else, know what passed between Wilford——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do you love Morris?” Helen asked, abruptly, without -waiting for Katy to finish her sentence.</p> - -<p class='c011'>For an instant the hands stopped in their work, and -Katy’s eyes filled with tears, which dropped into her lap -as she replied,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“More than I wish I did, seeing I must always tell -him no. It’s strange, too, how the love for him keeps -coming, in spite of all I can do. I have not been there -since, nor spoken with him until last Sunday, but I knew -the moment he entered the church, and when in the first -chant I heard his voice, my fingers trembled so that I -could hardly play, while all the time my heart goes out -after the rest I always find with him. But it cannot be. -Oh, Helen! I wish Wilford had never known that Morris -loved me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was sobbing now, with her head in Helen’s lap, -and Helen, smoothing her bright hair, said gently,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You do not reason correctly. It is right for you to -answer Morris yes, and Wilford would say so, too. When -I received your letter I read it to Bell, who then told what -Wilford said before he died. You must have forgotten -it, darling. He referred to a time when you would cease -to be his widow, and he said he was willing,—said so to -her, and you. Do you remember it, Katy?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I do now, but I <em>had</em> forgotten. I was so stunned then, -so bewildered, that it made no impression. I did not think -he meant Morris, Helen; <em>do</em> you believe he meant Morris?” -and lifting up her face Katy looked at her sister -with a wistfulness which told how anxiously she waited -for the answer.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I <em>know</em> that he meant Morris,” Helen replied. “Both -Bell and her father think so, and they bade me tell you -to marry Dr. Grant, with whom you will be so happy.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I cannot. It is too late. I told him no, and Helen, -I told him a falsehood, too, which I wish I might take -back,” she added. “I said I was sorry he ever loved me. -when I was not, for the knowing that he <em>had</em> made me -very happy. My conscience has smitten me cruelly for -<span class='pageno' id='Page_387'>387</span>that falsehood, told not intentionally, for I did not consider -what I said.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Here was an idea at which Helen caught at once, and -the next morning she went to Linwood and brought -Morris home with her. He had been there two or three -times since his return from Washington, but not since -Katy’s refusal, and her cheeks were scarlet as she met -him in the parlor and tried to be natural. He did not -look unhappy. He was not taking his rejection very hard, -after all, she thought, and the little lady felt a very little -piqued to find him so cheerful, when she had scarcely -known a moment’s quiet since the day she carried him the -custards and forgot to bring away her umbrella.</p> - -<p class='c011'>As it had rained that day, so it did now, a decided, -energetic rain, which set in after Morris came, and precluded -the possibility of his going home that night.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He would catch his death of cold,” Aunt Betsy said, -while Helen, too, joined her entreaties, until Morris consented, -and the carriage which came round for him at -dark returned to Linwood with the message that the doctor -would pass the night at Deacon Barlow’s.</p> - -<p class='c011'>During the evening he did not often address Katy directly, -but he knew each time she moved, and watched -every expression of her face, feeling a kind of pity for -her, when, without appearing to do so intentionally, the -family, one by one, stole from the room,—Uncle Ephraim -and Aunt Hannah without any excuse; Aunt Betsy to mix -the cakes for breakfast; Mrs. Lennox to wind the clock, -and Helen to find a book for which Morris had asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy might not have thought strange of their departure, -were it not that neither one came back again, and -after the lapse of ten minutes or more she felt convinced -that she had purposely been left alone with Morris.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The weather and the family had conspired against her, -but after one throb of fear she resolved to brave the difficulty, -and meet whatever might happen as became a woman -of twenty-three, and a widow. She knew Morris -was regarding her intently as she fashioned into shape -the coarse wool sock, intended for some soldier, and she -could almost hear her heart beat in the silence which fell -<span class='pageno' id='Page_388'>388</span>between them ere Morris said to her, in a tone which reassured -her,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And so you told me a falsehood the other day, and -your conscience has troubled you ever since?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, Morris, yes; that is, I told you I was sorry that -you ever loved me, which was not exactly true, for, after -I knew you did, I was happier than before.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Her words implied a knowledge of his love previous to -that night at Linwood when he had himself confessed it, -and he said to her inquiringly,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You knew it, then, before I told you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“From Wilford,—yes,” Katy faltered.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I understand now why you have been so shy of me,” -Morris said; “but, Katy, must this shyness continue always? -Think, now, and say if you did not tell more than -<em>one</em> falsehood the other night,—as you count falsehoods?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy looked wonderingly at him, and he continued,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You said you could not be my wife. Was that true? -Can’t you take it back, and give me a different answer?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy’s cheeks were scarlet, and her hands had ceased to -flutter about the knitting which lay upon her lap.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I meant what I said,” she whispered; “for, knowing -how Wilford felt, it would not be right for me to be so -happy.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Then it’s nothing personal? If there were no harrowing -memories of Wilford, you could be happy with me. -Is that it, Katy?” Morris asked, coming close to her now, -and imprisoning her hands, which she did not try to take -away, but let them lie in his as he continued, “Wilford -was willing at the last. Have you forgotten that?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I had, until Helen reminded me,” Katy replied. -“But, Morris, the talking of this thing brings Wilford’s -death back so vividly, making it seem but yesterday since -I held his dying head.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was beginning to relent, Morris knew, and bending -nearer to her he said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It was not yesterday. It will be two years in February; -and this, you know, is November. I need you, -Katy. I want you so much. I have wanted you all your -life. Before it was wrong to do so, I used each day to -pray that God would give you to me, and now I feel just -<span class='pageno' id='Page_389'>389</span>as sure that he has opened the way for you to come to -me as I am sure that Wilford is in heaven. He is happy -there, and shall a morbid fancy keep you from being -happy here? Tell me, then, Katy, will you be my wife?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He was kissing her cold hands, and as he did so he felt -her tears dropping on his hair.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If I say yes, Morris, you will not think that I never -loved Wilford, for I did, oh, yes! I did. Not exactly as -I might have loved you, had you asked me first, but I -loved him, and I was happy with him, for if there were -little clouds, his dying swept them all away.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Katy was proving herself a true woman, who remembered -only the good there was in Wilford, and Morris -did not love her less for it. She was all the dearer to -him, all the more desirable, and he told her so, winding -his arms about her, and resting her head upon his shoulder, -where it lay just as it had never lain before, for with -the first kiss Morris gave her, calling her “My own little -Katy,” she felt stealing over her the same indescribable -peace she had always felt with him, intensified now, and -sweeter from the knowing that it would remain if she -should will it so. And she did will it so, kissing Morris -back when he asked her to, and thus sealing the compact of -her second betrothal. It was not exactly like the first. -There was no tumultuous emotions, or ecstatic joys, but -Katy felt in her inmost heart that she was happier now -than then; that between herself and Morris there was more -affinity than there had been between herself and Wilford, -and as she looked back over the road she had come, and -remembered all Morris had been to her, she wondered -at her blindness in not recognizing and responding to the -love in which she had now found shelter.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was very late that night when Katy went up to bed, -and Helen, who was not asleep, knew by the face on which -the lamp-light fell that Morris had not sued in vain. -Aunt Betsy knew it, too, next morning, by the same look -on Katy’s face when she came down stairs, but this did -not prevent her saying abruptly, as Katy stood by the -sink,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Be you two engaged?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We are,” was Katy’s frank reply, which brought back -<span class='pageno' id='Page_390'>390</span>all Aunt Betsy’s visions of roasted fowls and frosted -cake, and maybe a dance in the kitchen, to say nothing -of the feather bed which she had not dared to offer Katy -Cameron, but which she thought would come in play for -“Miss Dr. Grant.”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XLIX.<br> <span class='large'>THE PRISONERS.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Many of the captives were coming home, and all along -the Northern lines loving hearts were waiting, and -friendly hands outstretched to welcome them back to -“God’s land,” as the poor, suffering creatures termed the -soil over which waved the stars and stripes, for which -they had fought so bravely. Wistfully thousands of eyes -ran over the long columns of names of those returned, -each eye seeking for its own, and growing dim with tears -as it failed to find it, or lighting up with untold joy when, -it was found.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Lieut. Robert Reynolds,” and “Thomas Tubbs,” Helen -read among the list of those just arrived at Annapolis, but -“Captain Mark Ray” was not there, and, with a sickening -feeling of disappointment, she passed the paper to -her mother-in-law, and hastened away, to weep and pray -that what she so greatly feared might not come upon her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was after Katy’s betrothal, and Helen was in New -York, hoping to hear news from Mark, and perhaps to -see him ere long, for as nearly as she could trace him -from reports of others, he was last at Andersonville. But -there was no mention made of him, no sign by which she -could tell whether he still lived, or had long since been -relieved from suffering.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Early next day she heard that Mattie Tubbs had received -a telegram from Tom, who would soon be at home, -while later in the day Bell Cameron came round to say that -<em>Bob</em> was living, but that he had lost his right arm, and -was otherwise badly crippled. It never occurred to Helen -to ask if this would make a difference. She only kissed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_391'>391</span>Bell fondly, rejoicing at her good fortune, and then sent -her back to the home where there were hot discussions regarding -the propriety of receiving into the family a -maimed and crippled member.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It was preposterous to suppose Bob would expect it,” -Juno said, while the mother admitted that it was a most -unfortunate affair, as indeed the whole war had proved. -For her part she sometimes wished the North had let the -South go quietly, as they wanted to, and so saved thousands -of lives, and prevented the country from being -flooded with cripples and negroes, and calls for more men -and money. On the whole, she doubted the propriety of -prolonging the war; and she certainly doubted the propriety -of giving her daughter to a cripple. There was -Arthur Grey, who had lately been so attentive; he was a -wealthier man than Lieutenant Bob, and if Bell had any -discretion she would take him in preference to a disfigured -soldier.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Such was the purport’ of Mrs. Cameron’s remarks, to -which her husband listened, his eyes blazing with passion, -which, the moment she finished, burst forth in a -storm of oaths and invectives against what, with his pet -adjective, he called her “Copperhead principles,” denouncing -her as a traitor, reproaching her for the cruelty -which would separate her daughter from Robert Reynolds, -because he had lost an arm in the service of his -country; and then turning fiercely to Bell with the words,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But it isn’t for you to say whether he shall or shall -not have Bell. She is of age. Let her speak for herself.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And she did speak, the noble, heroic girl, who had listened, -with bitter scorn, to what her mother and sister -said, and who now, with quivering nostrils, and voice -hoarse with emotion, answered slowly and impressively,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I would marry Lieutenant Reynolds if he had only -his <em>ears</em> left to hear me tell him how much I love and -honor him! Arthur Grey! Don’t talk to me of him! the -craven coward, who swore he was fifty to avoid the draft.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>After this, no more was said to Bell, who, the moment -she heard Bob was at home, went to his father’s house -and asked to see him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He was sleeping when she entered his room; and pushing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_392'>392</span>back the heavy curtain, so that the light would fall -more directly upon him, Mrs. Reynolds went out and left -her there alone.</p> - -<p class='c011'>With a beating heart she stood looking at his hollow -eyes, his sunken cheek, his short, dry hair, and thick gray -skin, but did not think of his arm, until she glanced at the -wall, where hung a large sized photograph, taken in full -uniform, the last time he was at home, and in which his -well-developed figure showed to good advantage. Could -it be that the wreck before her had ever been as full of -life and vigor as the picture would indicate, and was that -arm which held the sword severed from the body, and -left a token of the murderous war?</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Poor Bob! how much he must have suffered,” she -whispered, and kneeling down beside him she hid her -face in her hands, weeping bitter tears for her armless -hero.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The motion awakened Robert, who gazed for a moment -in surprise at the kneeling, sobbing maiden; then when -sure it was she, he raised himself in bed, and ere Bell -could look up, <em>two arms</em>, one quite as strong as the other, -were wound around her neck, and her head was pillowed -upon the breast, which heaved with strong emotions as -the soldier said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My darling Bell, you don’t know how much good this -meeting does me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He kissed her many times, and Bell did not prevent it, -but gave him kiss after kiss, then, still doubting the evidence -of her eyes, she unclasped his clinging arms, and -holding both his poor hands in hers, gave vent to a second -gush of tears as she said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am so glad—oh, so glad!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then, as it occurred to her that he might perhaps misjudge -her, and put a wrong construction upon her joy, -she added,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I did not care for myself, Robert. Don’t think I -cared for myself, or was ever sorry a bit on my own account.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Bob looked a little bewildered as he replied, “Never -were sorry and never cared!—I can scarcely credit that, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_393'>393</span>for surely your tears and present emotions belie your -words.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Bell knew he had not understood her, and said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Your <em>arm</em>, Robert, your arm. We heard that it was -cut off, and that you were otherwise mutilated.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, that’s it, then!” and something like his old mischievous -smile glimmered about Bob’s mouth as he added, -“They spared my <em>arms</em>, but, Bell,” and he tried to look -very solemn, “suppose I tell you that they hacked off both -my legs, and if you marry me, you must walk all your -life by the side of <em>wooden pins</em> and <em>crutches</em>!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Bell knew by the curl of his lip that he was teasing -her, and she answered laughingly,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Wooden pins and crutches will be all the fashion when -the war is over—badges of honor of which any woman -might be proud.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, Bell,” he replied, “I am afraid there is no -such honor in store for my wife, for if I ever get back -my strength and the flesh upon my bones, she must take -me with legs and arms included. Not even a scratch or -wound of any kind with which to awaken sympathy.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He appeared very bright and cheerful; but when after -a moment Bell asked for Mark Ray, there came a shadow -over his face, and with quivering lips he told a tale which -blanched Bell’s cheeks, and made her shiver with pain and -dread as she thought of Helen—for Mark <em>was dead</em>—shot -down as he attempted to escape from the train which took -them from one prison to another. He was always devising -means of escape, succeeding several times, but was -immediately captured and brought back, or sent to some -closer quarter, Robert said; but his courage never deserted -him, or his spirits either. He was the life of them -all, and by his presence kept many a poor fellow from -dying of homesickness and despair. But he was dead; -there could be no mistake, for Robert saw him when he -jumped, heard the ball which went whizzing after him, -saw him as he fell on the open field, saw a man from a -rude dwelling near by go hurriedly towards him, firing -his own revolver, as if to make the death deed doubly -sure. Then as the train slacked its speed, with a view, -perhaps, to take the body on board, he heard the man who -<span class='pageno' id='Page_394'>394</span>had reached Mark, and was bending over him, call out, -“Go on, I’ll tend to him, the bullet went right through -here;” and he turned the dead man’s face towards the -train, so all could see the blood pouring from the temple -which the finger of the ruffian touched.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, Helen! poor Helen! how can I tell her, when she -loved him so much!” Bell sobbed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You will do it better than any one else,” Bob said. -“You will be very tender with her; and, Bell, tell her, -as some consolation, that he did not break with the treatment, -as most of us wretches did; he kept up wonderfully—said -he was perfectly well—and, indeed, he looked -so. Tom Tubbs, who was his shadow, clinging to him -with wonderful fidelity, will corroborate what I have said. -He was with us; he saw him, and only animal force prevented -him from leaping from the car and going to him -where he fell. I shall never forget his shriek of agony -at the sight of that blood-stained face, turned an instant -towards us.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Don’t, don’t!” Bell cried again; “I can’t endure it!” -and as Mrs. Reynolds came in she left her lover and -started for Mrs. Banker’s, meeting on the steps Tom Tubbs -himself, who had come on an errand similar to her own.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sit here in the hall a moment,” she said to him, as -the servant admitted them both. “I must see Mrs. Ray -first.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Helen was reading to her mother-in-law; but she laid -down her book and came to welcome Bell, detecting at -once the agitation in her manner, and asking if she had -bad news from Robert.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, Robert is at home; I have just come from there, -and he told me—oh! Helen, can you bear it?—<em>Mark is dead</em>—shot -twice as he jumped from the train taking him -to another prison. Robert saw it and knew that he was -dead.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Bell could get no further, for Helen, who had never -fainted in her life, did so now, lying senseless so long that -the physician began to think it would be a mercy if she -never came back to life, for her reason, he fancied, had -fled. But Helen did come back to life, with reason unimpaired, -and insisted upon hearing every detail of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_395'>395</span>dreadful story, both from Bell and Tom. The latter confirmed -all Lieutenant Reynolds had said, besides adding -many items of his own. Mark was dead, there could be -no doubt of it; but with the tenacity of a strong, hopeful -nature, the mother clung to the illusion that possibly -the ball stunned, instead of killing—that he would yet -come back; and many a time as the days went by, that -mother started at the step upon the walk, or ring of the -bell, which she fancied might be his, hearing him sometimes -calling in the night storm for her to let him in, and -hurrying down to the door only to be disappointed and go -back to her lonely room to weep the dark night through.</p> - -<p class='c011'>With Helen there were no such illusions. After talking -calmly and rationally with both Robert and Tom, she knew -her husband was dead, and never watched and waited for -him as his mother did. She had heard from Mark’s companions -in suffering all they had to tell, of his captivity -and his love for her which manifested itself in so many -different ways. Passionately she had wept over the tress -of faded hair which Tom Tubbs brought to her, saying, -“he cut it from his head just before we left the prison, -and told me if he never got home and I did, to give the -lock to you, and say that all was well between him and -God—that your prayers had saved him. He wanted you to -know that, because, he said, it would comfort you most of -all.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And it did comfort her when she looked up at the -clear wintry heavens and thought that her lost one was -there. It was her first real trial, and it crushed her with -its magnitude, so that she could not submit at once, and -many a cry of desolate agony broke the silence of her -room, where the whole night through she sat musing of -the past, and raining kisses upon the little lock of hair -which from the Southern prison had come to her, sole -relic of the husband so dearly loved and truly mourned. -How faded it was from the rich brown she remembered -so well, and Helen gazing at it could realize in part the -suffering and want which had worn so many precious lives -away. It was strange she never dreamed of him. She -often prayed that she might, so as to drive from her mind, -if possible, the picture of the prostrate form upon the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_396'>396</span>low, damp field, and the blood-stained face turned in its -mortal agony towards the southern sky and the pitiless -foe above it. So she always saw him, shuddering as she -wondered if the foe had buried him decently or left his -bones to bleach upon the open plain.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Poor Helen, she was widowed indeed, and it needed not -the badge of mourning to tell how terribly she was bereaved. -But the badge was there, too, for in spite of the -hope which said, “he is not dead,” Mrs. Banker yielded -to Helen’s importunities, and clothed herself and daughter-in-law -in the habiliments of woe, still waiting, still -watching, still listening for the step she should recognize -so quickly, still looking down the street; but looking, alas! -in vain. The winter passed away. Captive after captive -came home, heart after heart was cheered by the returning -loved one, but for the inmates of No. — the heavy cloud -grew blacker, for the empty chair by the hearth remained -unoccupied, and the aching hearts uncheered. <em>Mark Ray -did not come back.</em></p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER L.<br> <span class='large'>THE DAY OF THE WEDDING.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Those first warm days of March, 1865, when spring and -summer seemed to kiss each other and join hands for a -brief space of time, how balmy, how still, how pleasant -they were, and how bright the farm-house looked, where -preparations for Katy’s second bridal were going rapidly -forward. Aunt Betsy was in her element, for now had -come the reality of the vision she had seen so long, of house -turned upside down in one grand onslaught of suds and -sand, then, righted again by magic power, and smelling -very sweet and clean from its recent ablutions—of turkeys -dying in the barn, of chickens in the shed, of loaves of -frosted cake, with cards and cards of snowy biscuit piled -upon the pantry shelf—of jellies, tarts, and chicken salad—of -home-made wine, and home-brewed beer, with tea -and coffee portioned out and ready for the evening.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_397'>397</span>In the dining-room the table was set with the new China -ware and silver, a joint Christmas gift from Helen and -Katy to their good Aunt Hannah, as real mistress of the -house.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not plated ware, but the gen-oo-ine article,” Aunt -Betsy had explained at least twenty times to those who -came to see the silver, and she handled it proudly now as -she took it from the flannel bags in which Mrs. Deacon -Bannister said it must be kept, and placed it on a side-table.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The coffee-urn was Katy’s, so was the tea-kettle and the -massive pitcher, but the rest was “ours,” Aunt Betsy complacently -reflected as she contemplated the glittering array, -and then hurried off to see what was burning on the stove, -stumbling over Morris as she went, and telling him “he -had come too soon—it was not fittin’ for him to be there -under foot until he was wanted.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Without replying directly to Aunt Betsy, Morris knocked -with a vast amount of assurance at a side door, which -opened directly, and Katy’s glowing face looked out, and -Katy’s voice was heard, saying joyfully,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, Morris, it’s you. I’m so glad you’ve come, for I -wanted”——</p> - -<p class='c011'>But what she wanted was lost to Aunt Betsy by the -closing of the door, and Morris and Katy were alone in the -little sewing room where latterly they had passed so many -quiet hours together, and where lay the bridal dress with -its chaste and simple decorations. Katy had clung tenaciously -to her mourning robe, asking if she <em>might</em> wear -black, as ladies sometimes did. But Morris had promptly -answered no. His bride, if she came to him willingly, -must not come clad in widow’s weeds, for when she became -his wife she would cease to be a widow.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And so black was laid aside, and Katy, in soft tinted -colors, with her bright hair curling on her neck, looked -as girlish and beautiful as if in Greenwood there were no -pretentious monument, with Wilford’s name upon it, nor -any little grave in Silverton where Baby Cameron slept. -She had been both wife and mother, but she was quite as -dear to Morris as if she had never borne other name than -Katy Lennox, and as he held her for a moment to his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_398'>398</span>heart he thanked God who had at last given to him the -idol of his boyhood and the love of his later years. Across -their pathway no shadow was lying, except when they remembered -Helen, on whom the mantle of widowhood had -fallen just as Katy was throwing it off.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Poor Helen! the tears always crept to Katy’s eyes when -she thought of her, and now, as she saw her steal across -the road and strike into the winding path which led to the -pasture where the pines and hemlock grew, she nestled -closer to Morris, and whispered,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sometimes I think it wrong to be so happy when -Helen is so sad. I pity her so much to-day.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And Helen was to be pitied, for her heart was aching -to its very core. She had tried to keep up through the -preparations for Katy’s bridal, tried to seem interested -and even cheerful, while all the time a hidden agony was -tugging at her heart, and life seemed a heavier burden -than she could bear.</p> - -<p class='c011'>All her portion of the work was finished now, and in -the balmy brightness of that warm April afternoon she -went into the fields where she could be alone beneath the -soft summer-like sky, and pour out her pent-up anguish -into the ear of Him who had so often soothed and comforted -her when other aids had failed. Last night, for -the first time since she heard the dreadful news, she had -dreamed of Mark, and when she awoke she still felt the -pressure of his lips upon her brow, the touch of his arm -upon her waist, and the thrilling clasp of his warm hand -as it pressed and held her own. But that was a dream, a -cruel delusion, and its memory made the more dark and -dreary as she went slowly up the beaten path, pausing -once beneath a chestnut tree and leaning her throbbing -head against the shaggy bark as she heard in the distance -the shrill whistle of the downward train from Albany, and -thought as she always did when she heard that whistle, -“Oh, if that heralded Mark’s return, how happy I should -be.” But many sounds like that had echoed across the Silverton -hills, bringing no hope to her, and now as it again -died away in the Cedar Swamp she pursued her way up -the path till she reached a long white ledge of rocks—“The -lovers’ Rock,” some called it, for village boys and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_399'>399</span>maidens knew the place, repairing to it often, and whispering -their vows beneath the overhanging pines, which -whispered back again, and told the winds the story which -though so old is always new to her who listens and to him -who tells.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Just underneath the pine there was a large flat stone, -and there Helen sat down, gazing sadly upon the valley -below, and the clear waters of Fairy Pond gleaming in the -April sunshine which lay so warmly on the grassy hills -and flashed so brightly from the cupola at Linwood, where -the national flag was flying. For a time Helen watched -the banner as it shook its folds to the breeze, then as she -remembered with what a fearful price that flag had been -saved from dishonor, she hid her face in her hands and -sobbed bitterly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“God help me not to think I paid too dearly for my -country’s rights. Oh, Mark, my husband, I may be wrong, -but <em>you</em> were dearer to me than many, many countries, -and it is hard to give you up—hard to know that the -notes of peace which float up from the South will not -waken you in that grave which I can never see. Oh, Mark, -my darling, my darling, I love you so much, I miss you -so much, I want you so much. God help me to bear. -God help to say, ‘Thy will be done.’”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was rocking to and fro in her grief, with her hands -pressed over her face, and for a long time she sat thus, -while the sun crept on further towards the west, and the -freshened breeze shook the tasseled pine above her head -and kissed the bands of rich brown hair, from which her -hat had fallen. She did not heed the lapse of time, nor -hear the footstep coming up the pathway to the ledge where -she was sitting, the footstep which paused at intervals, as -if the comer were weary, or in quest of some one, but which -at last came on with rapid bounds as an opening among -the trees showed where Helen sat. It was a tall young -man who came, a young man, sun-burned and scarred, with -uniform soiled and worn, but with the fire in his brown -eyes unquenched, the love in his true heart unchanged, -save as it was deeper, more intense for the years of separation, -and the long, cruel suspense, which was all over now. -The grave had given up its dead, the captive was released, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_400'>400</span>and through incredible suffering and danger had reached -his Northern home, had sought and found his girl-wife of -a few hours, for it was Mark Ray speeding up the path, -and holding back his breath as he came close to the bowed -form upon the rock, feeling a strange throb of awe when -he saw the <em>mourning dress</em>, and knew it was worn for him. -A moment more, and she lay in his arms; white and insensible, -for with the sudden winding of his arms around her -neck, the pressure of his lips upon her cheek, the calling -of her name, and the knowing it was really her husband, -she had uttered a wild, impassioned cry, half of terror, half -of joy, and fainted entirely away, just as she did when -told that he was dead! There was no water near, but with -loving words and soft caresses Mark brought her back to -life, raining both tears and kisses upon the dear face which -had grown so white and thin since the Christmas eve when -the wintry star light had looked down upon their parting. -For several moments neither could speak for the great -choking joy which wholly precluded the utterance of a -word. Helen was the first to rally. With her head lying -in Mark’s lap and pillowed on Mark’s arm, she whispered,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Let us thank God together. You, too, have learned -to pray.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Reverently Mark bent his head to hers, and the pine -boughs overhead heard, instead of mourning notes, a prayer -of praise, as the reunited wife and husband fervently -thanked God, who had brought them together again.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Not until nearly a half hour was gone, and Helen had -begun to realize that the arm which held her so tightly -was genuine flesh and blood, and not mere delusion, did -she look up into the face, glowing with so much of happiness -and love. Upon the forehead, and just beneath -the hair, there was a savage scar, and the flesh about it -was red and angry still, showing how sore and painful it -must have been, and making Helen shudder as she touched -it with her lips, and said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Poor, darling Mark! that’s where the cruel ball entered; -but where is the other scar,—the one made by the -man who went to you in the fields. I have tried so hard -not to hate him for firing at a fallen foe.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Rather pray for him, darling. Bless him as the savior -<span class='pageno' id='Page_401'>401</span>of your husband’s life, the noble fellow but for whom -I should not have been here now, for he was a Unionist, -as true to the old flag as Abraham himself,” Mark Ray -replied; and then, as Helen looked wonderingly at him, -he laid her head in an easier position upon his shoulder, -and told her a story so strange in its details, that but for -the frequent occurrence of similar incidents, it would be -pronounced wholly unreal and false.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Of what he suffered in the Southern prisons he did -not speak, either then or ever after, but began with the -day when, with a courage born of desperation, he jumped -from the moving train and was shot down by the guard. -Partially stunned, he still retained sense enough to know -when a tall form bent over him, and to hear the rough -but kindly voice which said,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Play ’possum, Yank. Make b’lieve you’re dead, and -throw ’em off the scent.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This was the last he knew for many weeks, and when -again he woke to consciousness he found himself on the -upper floor of a dilapidated hut, which stood in the centre -of a little wood, his bed a pile of straw, over which -was spread a clean patch-work quilt, while seated at his -side, and watching him intently, was the same man who -had bent over him in the field, and shouted to the rebels -that he was dead.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I shall never forget my sensations then,” Mark said, -“for with the exception of this present hour, when I -hold you in my arms, and know the danger is over, I -never experienced a moment of greater happiness and -rest than when, up in that squalid garret, I came back -to life again, the pain in my head all gone, and nothing -left save a delicious feeling of languor, which prompted -me to lie quietly for several minutes, examining my surroundings, -and speculating upon the chance which brought -me there. That I was a prisoner I did not doubt, until -the old man at my side said to me cheerily,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, old chap, you’ve come through it like a major, -though I was mighty dubus a spell about that pesky ball. -But old Aunt Bab and me fished it out, and since then -you’ve begun to mend.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“‘Where am I? Who are you?’ I asked, and he replied, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_402'>402</span>‘Who be I? Why, I’m <em>Jack Jennins</em>, the rarinest, -redhotedest secesh there is in these yer parts, so the Rebs -thinks; but ’twixt you and me, boy, I’m the tallest kind of -a Union,—got a piece of the old flag sowed inside of my -boots, and every night before sleepin’ I prays the Lord to -gin Abe the victory, and raise Cain generally in t’other -camp, and forgive Jack Jennins for tellin’ so many lies, -and makin’ b’lieve he’s one thing when you know and he -knows he’s t’other. If I’ve <em>spared</em> one Union chap, I’ll bet -I have a hundred, me and old Bab, a black woman who -lives here and tends to the cases I fotch her, till we contrive -to git ’em inter Tennessee, whar they hev to shift -for themselves.’</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I could only press his hand in token of my gratitude -while he went on to say, ‘Them was beans I fired at you -that day, but they sarved every purpose, and them scalliwags -on the train s’pose you were put underground weeks -ago, if indeed you wasn’t left to rot in the sun, as heaps -and heaps on ’em is. Nobody knows you are here but Bab -and me, and nobody must know if you want to git off with -a whole hide. I could git a hundred dollars by givin’ you -up, but you don’t s’pose Jack Jennins is a gwine to do -that ar infernal trick. No, sir,’ and he brought his brawny -fist down upon his knee with a force which made me -tremble, while I tried to express my thanks for his great -kindness. He was a noble man, Helen, while Aunt Bab, -the colored woman, who nursed me so tenderly, and whose -black, bony hands I kissed at parting, was as true a woman -as any with a fairer skin and more beautiful exterior.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“For three weeks longer I stayed up in that loft, and in -that time three more escaped prisoners were brought there, -and one Union refugee from North Carolina. We left in -company one wild, rainy night, when the storm and darkness -must have been sent for our special protection, and -Jack Jennings cried like a little child when he bade me -good-bye, promising, if he survived the war, to find his -way to the North and visit me in New York.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We found these Unionists everywhere, and especially -among the mountains of Tennessee, where, but for their -timely aid, we had surely been recaptured. With blistered -feet and bruised limbs we reached the lines at last, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_403'>403</span>when fever attacked me for the second time and brought -me near to death. Somebody wrote to you, but you -never received it, and when I grew better I would not let -them write again, as I wanted to surprise you. As soon -as I was able I started North, my thoughts full of the -joyful meeting in store—a meeting which I dreaded too, -for I knew you must think me dead, and I felt so sorry -for you, my darling, knowing, as I did, you would mourn -for your soldier husband. That my darling <em>has</em> mourned -is written on her face, and needs no words to tell it; but -that is over now,” Mark said, folding his wife closer to him, -and kissing the pale lips, while he told her how, arrived -at Albany, he had telegraphed to his mother, asking where -Helen was.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“In Silverton,” was the reply, and so he came on in -the morning train, meeting his mother in Springfield as -he had half expected to do, knowing that she could leave -New York in time to join him there.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No words of mine,” he said, “are adequate to describe -the thrill of joy with which I looked again upon -the hills and rocks so identified with you that I loved -them for your sake, hailing them as old, familiar friends, -and actually growing sick and faint with excitement when -through the leafless woods I caught the gleam of Fairy -Pond, where I gathered the lilies for you. There is a -wedding in progress at the farm-house, I learned from -mother, and it seems very meet that I should come at this -time, making, in reality, a double wedding when I can -truly claim my bride,” and Mark kissed Helen passionately, -laughing to see how the blushes broke over her white face, -and burned upon her neck.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Those were happy moments which they passed together -upon that ledge of rocks, happy enough to atone for all -the dreadful past, and when at last they rose and slowly -retraced their steps to the farm-house, it seemed to Mark -that Helen’s cheeks were rounder than when he found her, -while Helen knew that the arm on which she leaned was -stronger than when it first encircled her an hour or two -before.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_404'>404</span> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER LI.<br> <span class='large'>THE WEDDING.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>On the same train with Mrs. Banker and Mark, Bell -Cameron came with Bob, but father Cameron was not able -to come; he would gladly have done so if he could, and -he sent his blessing to Katy with the wish that she might -be very happy in her second married life. This message -Bell gave to Katy, and then tried to form some reasonable -excuse for her mother’s and Juno’s absence, for she could -not tell how haughtily both had declined the invitation, -Juno finding fault because Katy had not waited longer -than two years, and Mrs. Cameron blaming her for being -so very vulgar as to be married at home, instead of in -church. On this point Katy herself had been a little disquieted, -feeling how much more appropriate it was that -she be married in the church, but shrinking from standing -again a bride at the same altar where she had once before -been made a wife. She could not do it, she finally decided; -there would be too many harrowing memories crowding -upon her mind, and as Morris did not particularly care -where the ceremony was performed, it was settled that it -should be at the house, even though Mrs. Deacon Bannister -did say that “she had supposed Dr. Grant too <em>High Church</em> -to do anything so <em>Presbyterianny</em> as that.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Bell’s arrival at the farm-house was timely; for the unexpected -appearance in their midst of one whom they -looked upon as surely dead had stunned and bewildered -the family to such an extent that it needed the presence -of just such a matter-of-fact, self-possessed woman as -Bell, to bring things back to their original shape. It -was wonderful how the city girl fitted into the vacant -niches, seeing to everything which needed seeing to, and -still finding time to steal away alone with Lieutenant Bob, -who kept her in a painful state of blushing, by constantly -wishing it was his bridal night as well as Dr. Grant’s, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_405'>405</span>by inveighing against the weeks which must intervene, ere -the day appointed for the grand ceremony, to take place -in Grace Church, and which was to make Bell his wife.</p> - -<hr class='c014'> - -<p class='c011'>“Come in here, Helen, I have something to show you,” -Mrs. Banker said, after she had again embraced and wept -over her long lost son, whose return was not quite real -yet; and leading her daughter-in-law to her bedroom, -she showed her the elegant, white silk which had been made -for her just after her marriage, two years before, and -which, with careful forethought, she had brought with her, -as more suitable now for the wedding, than Helen’s mourning -weeds.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I made the most of my time last night, after receiving -Mark’s telegram, and had it modernized somewhat,” -she said. “And I brought your pearls, for you will be -most as much a bride as Katy, and I have a pride in seeing -my son’s wife appropriately dressed.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Far different were Helen’s feelings now, as she donned -the elegant dress, from what they had been the first and -only time she wore it. Then the bridegroom was where -danger and death lay thickly around his pathway; but now -he was at her side, kissing her cheek, where the roses were -burning so brightly, and calling still deeper blushes to -her face, by his teasing observations and humorous ridicule -of his own personal appearance. Would she not feel -ashamed of him in his soiled uniform? And would she -not cast longing glances at her handsome brother-in-law -and the stylish Lieutenant Bob? But Helen was proud of -her husband’s uniform, as a badge of what he had suffered; -and when the folds of her rich dress swept against -it, she did not draw them away, but nestled closer to him, -leaning upon his shoulder; and when no one was near, -winding her soft arm about his neck once, whispering, -“My darling Mark, I cannot make it real yet.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Softly the night shadows fell around the farm-house, -and in the rooms below a rather mixed group was assembled—all -the <i><span lang="fr">élite</span></i> of the town, with many of Aunt Betsy’s -neighbors, and the doctor’s patients, who had come to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_406'>406</span>see their physician married, rejoicing in his happiness, -and glad that the mistress of Linwood was not to be a -stranger, but the young girl who had grown up in their -midst, and who, by suffering and sorrow, had been moulded -into a noble woman, worthy of Dr. Grant. She was ready -now for her second bridal, in her dress of white, with no -vestige of color in her face, and her great blue eyes shining -with a brilliancy which made them almost black. Occasionally, -as her thoughts leaped backward over a period -of almost six years, a tear trembled on her long eyelashes, -but Morris kissed it away, asking if she were sorry.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, no, not sorry that I am to be your wife,” she answered; -“but it is not possible that I should forget entirely -the roughness of the road which has led me to you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“They are waiting for you,” was said several times, -and down the stairs passed Mark Ray and Helen, Lieut. -Bob and Bell, with Dr. Grant and Katy, whose face, as she -stood again before the clergyman and spoke her marriage -vows, shone with a strange, peaceful light, which made -it seem to those who gazed upon her like the face of some -pure angel.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was no thought then of that deathbed in Georgetown—no -thought of Greenwood or the little grave in -Silverton, where the crocuses and hyacinths were blossoming—no -thought of anything save the man at her side, -whose voice was so full and earnest as it made the responses, -and who gently pressed the little hand as he fitted -the wedding ring. It was over at last, and Katy was -Morris’s wife, blushing now as they called her <em>Mrs. Grant</em>, -and putting up her rosebud lips to be kissed by all who -claimed that privilege. Helen, too, came in for her share -of attention, and the opinion of the guests as to the beauty -of the respective brides, as they were termed, was pretty -equally divided.</p> - -<p class='c011'>In heavy rustling silk, which actually trailed an inch, -and cap of real lace, Aunt Betsy moved among the -crowd, her face glowing with the satisfaction she felt at -seeing her nieces so much admired, and her heart so full -of good will and toleration that after the supper was over, -and she fancied a few of the younger ones were beginning -<span class='pageno' id='Page_407'>407</span>to feel tired, she suggested to Bell that she might start -a <em>dance</em> if she had a mind to, either in the kitchen or the -parlor, it did not matter where, and “Ephraim would not -care an atom,” a remark which brought from Mrs. Deacon -Bannister a most withering look of reproach, and slightly -endangered Aunt Betsy’s standing in the church. Perhaps -Bell Cameron suspected as much, for she replied that -they were having a splendid time as it was, and as Dr. -Grant did not dance, they might as well dispense with it -altogether. And so it happened that there was no dancing -at Katy’s wedding, and Uncle Ephraim escaped the reproof -which his brother deacon would have felt called upon -to give him had he permitted so grievous a sin, while -Mrs. Deacon Bannister, who, at the first trip of the toe -would have departed lest her eyes should look upon the -evil thing, was permitted to remain until “it was out,” and -the guests retired <i><span lang="fr">en masse</span></i> to their respective homes.</p> - -<hr class='c014'> - -<p class='c011'>The carriage from Linwood stood at the farm-house -door, and Katy, wrapped in shawls and hood, was ready -to go with her husband. There were no tears shed at this -parting, for their darling was not going far away; her new -home was just across the fields, and through the soft -moonlight they could see its chimney tops, and trace for -some little distance the road over which the carriage went -bearing her swiftly on; her hands fast locked in Morris’s, -her head upon his arm, and the hearts of both too full of -bliss for either to speak a word until Linwood was reached, -when, folding Katy to his bosom in a passionate embrace, -Morris said to her,</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We are home at last—your home and mine, my precious, -precious wife.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The village clock was striking one, and the sound echoed -across the waters of Fairy Pond, awakening, in his marshy -bed, a sleeping frog, who sent forth upon the warm, still -air a musical, plaintive note as Morris bore his bride over -the threshold and into the library, where a cheerful fire -was blazing. He had ordered it kindled there, for he had -a fancy ere he slept to see fulfilled a dream he had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_408'>408</span>dreamed so often, of Katy sitting as his wife in the chair -across the hearth, where he placed her now, himself removing -her shawl and hood; then kneeling down before -her, with his arm around her waist and his head upon her -shoulder, he prayed aloud to the God who had brought -her there, asking His blessing upon their future life, and -dedicating himself and all he had to his Master’s service. -It is such prayer which God delights to answer, and a -peace, deeper than they had yet known, fell upon that -newly married pair at Linwood.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER LII.<br> <span class='large'>CONCLUSION.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>The scene shifts now to New York, where, one week -after that wedding in Silverton, Mark and Helen went, -together with Morris and Katy. But not to Madison -Square. That house had been sold, and Katy saw it but -once, her tears falling fast as, driving slowly by with -Morris, she gazed at the closed doors and windows of what -was once her home, and around which lingered no pleasant -memories save that it was the birthplace of baby Cameron. -Lieutenant Reynolds had thought to buy it, but Bell said, -“No, it would not be pleasant for Katy to visit me there, -and I mean to have her with me as much as possible.” -So the house went to strangers, and a less pretentious but -quite as comfortable one was bought for Bell, so far up -town that Juno wondered how her sister would manage to -exist so far from everything, intimating that her visits -would be far between, a threat which Lieutenant Bob took -quite heroically; indeed, it rather enhanced the value of his -pleasant home than otherwise, for Juno was not a favorite, -and his equanimity was not likely to be disturbed if -she never crossed his threshold. She was throwing bait -to <em>Arthur Grey</em>, the man who swore he was fifty to escape -the draft, and who, now that the danger was over, would -gladly take back his oath and be forty, as he really was. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_409'>409</span>With the most freezing kiss imaginable Juno greeted Katy, -calling her “Mrs. Grant,” and treating Morris as if he -were an entire stranger, instead of the man whom to get -she would once have moved both earth and heaven. Mrs. -Cameron, too, though glad that Katy was married, and -fully approving her choice, threw into her manner so much -reserve that Katy’s intercourse with her was anything but -agreeable, and she turned with alacrity to father Cameron, -who received her with open arms, calling her his daughter, -and welcoming Morris as his <em>son</em>, taken in Wilford’s stead. -“My boy,” he frequently called him, showing how willingly -he accepted him as the husband of one whom he -loved as his child. Greatly he wished that they should stay -with him while they remained in New York, but Katy -preferred going to Mrs. Banker’s, where she would be -more quiet, and avoid the bustle and confusion attending -the preparations for Bell’s wedding. It was to be a grand -church affair, and to take place during Easter week, after -which the bridal pair were going on to Washington, and -if possible to Richmond, where Bob had been a prisoner. -Everything seemed conspiring to make the occasion a joyful -one, for all through the North, from Maine to California, -the air was rife with the songs of victory and the -notes of approaching peace. But alas! He who holds our -country’s destiny in his hand changed that song of gladness -into a wail of woe, which, echoing through the land, -rose up to heaven in one mighty sob of anguish, as the -whole nation bemoaned its loss. Our President was dead, -and New York was in mourning, so black, so profound, -that with a shudder Bell Cameron tossed aside the orange -wreath and said to her lover, “We will be married at -home. I cannot now go to the church, when everything -seems like one great funeral.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And so in Mrs. Cameron’s drawing-room there was a -quiet wedding, one pleasant April morning, and Bell’s -plain traveling dress was far more in keeping with the -gloom which hung over the great city than her gala robes -would have been, with a long array of carriages and merry -wedding chimes. Westward they went instead of South, -and when our late lamented President was borne back to -the prairies of Illinois, they were there to greet the noble -<span class='pageno' id='Page_410'>410</span>dead, and mingle their tears with those who knew and -loved him long before the world appreciated his worth.</p> - -<hr class='c014'> - -<p class='c011'>Softly the May rain falls on Linwood, where the fresh -green grass is springing and the early spring flowers -blooming, and where Katy stands for a moment in the -bay window of the library, listening to the patter on the -tin roof overhead, and gazing wistfully down the road, -as if watching for some one; then turning, she enters the -dining-room and inspects the supper table, for her mother. -Aunt Hannah, and Aunt Betsy are visiting her this rainy -afternoon, while Morris, on his return from North Silverton, -is to call for Uncle Ephraim and bring him home to -tea.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Linwood is a nice place to visit, and the old ladies -enjoy it vastly, especially Aunt Betsy, who never tires of -telling what they have “over to Katy’s,” and whose capeless -shaker hangs often on the hall stand, just as it hangs -now, while she, good soul, sits in the pleasant parlor, and -darns the socks for Morris, taking as much pains as if it -were a network of fine lace she was weaving, instead of -a shocking rent in some luckless heel or toe. Up stairs -there is a pleasant room which Katy calls Aunt Betsy’s, -and in it is the “feather bed,” which never found its way -to Madison Square. Morris himself did not think much -of feathers, but he made no objections when Aunt Betsy -insisted upon Katy’s having the bed kept for so many -years, and only smiled a droll kind of smile when he one -morning met it coming up the walk in the wheelbarrow -which Uncle Ephraim trundled.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Morris and his young wife are very happy together and -Katy finds the hours of his absence very long, especially -when left alone. Even to-day the time drags heavily, and -she looks more than once from the bay window, until at -last Brownie’s head is seen over the hill, and a few moments -after Morris’s arm is around her shoulders, and her -lips are upturned for the kiss he gives as he leads her -into the house, chiding her for exposing herself to the -rain, and placing in her hand three letters, which she does -<span class='pageno' id='Page_411'>411</span>not open until the cozy tea is over and her family friends -have gone. Then, while her husband looks over his evening -paper, she breaks the seals one by one reading first -the letter from “Mrs. Bob Reynolds,” who has returned -from the West, and who is in the full glory of her bridal -calls.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I was never so happy in my life as I am now,” she -wrote. “Indeed, I did not know that a married woman -could be so happy; but then every woman has not a <em>Bob</em> -for her husband, which makes a vast difference. You -ought to see Juno. I know she envies me, though she -affects the utmost contempt for matrimony, and reminds -me forcibly of the fox and the grapes. You see, Arthur -Grey is a failure, so far as Juno is concerned, he having -withdrawn from the field and laid himself at the feet of -Sybil Grandon, who will be Mrs. Grey, and a bride at -Saratoga the coming summer. Juno intends going too, -as the bridesmaid of the party; but every year her chances -lessen, and I have very little hope that father will ever -call other than Bob his son, always excepting <em>Morris</em>, of -course, whom he has adopted in place of Wilford. You -don’t know, Katy, how much father thinks of you, blessing -the day which brought you to us, and saying that if -he is ever saved, he shall in a great measure owe it to your -influence and consistent life after the great trouble came -upon you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There were tears in Katy’s eyes as she read this letter -from Bell, and with a mental prayer of thanksgiving that -she had been of any use in guiding even one to the Shepherd’s -Fold, she took next the letter whose superscription -brought back so vividly to her mind the daisy-covered -grave in Alnwick. Marian, who was now at Annapolis, -caring for the returned prisoners, did not write often, and -her letters were prized the more by Katy, who read with a -beating heart the kind congratulations upon her recent -marriage, sent by Marian Hazelton.</p> - -<p class='c005'>“I knew how it would end, when you were in Georgetown,” -she wrote, “and I am glad that it is so, praying -daily that you may be happy with Dr. Grant and remember -the sad past only as some dream from which you have -<span class='pageno' id='Page_412'>412</span>awakened. I thank you for your invitation to visit Linwood, -and when my work is over I may come for a few -weeks and rest in your bird’s nest of a home. Thank God -the war is ended; but <em>my boys</em> need me yet, and until the -last crutch has left the hospital, I shall stay where duty -lies. What my life will henceforth be I do not know; but -I have sometimes thought that with the funds you so generously -bestowed upon me, I shall open a school for orphan -children, taking charge myself, and so doing some good. -Will you be the Lady Patroness, and occasionally enliven -us with the light of your countenance? I have left the -hospital but once since you were here, and then I went to -Wilford’s grave. I prayed for you while there, remembering -only that <em>you</em> had been his wife. In a little box where -no eyes but mine ever look, there is a bunch of flowers -plucked from Wilford’s grave. They are faded and withered, -but something of their sweet perfume lingers still; -and I prize them as my greatest treasure; for, except the -lock of hair severed from his head, they are all that is remaining -to me of the past, which now seems so far away. -It is time to make my nightly round of visits, so I must -bid you good-bye. The Lord lift up the light of his -countenance upon you, and be with you forever.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Marian Hazelton.</span>”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c011'>For a long time Katy held this letter in her hand, wondering -if the sorrowful woman whose life was once so -strangely blended with that of Marian Hazelton, could be -the Katy Grant who sat by the evening fire at Linwood, -with the sunshine of perfect happiness resting on her heart. -“Truly He doeth all things well to those who wait upon -Him,” she thought, as she laid down Marian’s letter and -took up the third and last, Helen’s letter, dated at Fortress -Monroe, whither, with Mark Ray, she had gone just after -Bell Cameron’s bridal.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You cannot imagine,” Helen wrote, “the feelings of -awe and even terror which steal over me the nearer I get to -the seat of war, and the more I realize the bloody strife -we have been engaged in, and which, thank God, has now -nearly ceased. You have heard of John Jennings, the noble -man who saved my dear husband’s life, and of Aunt -<span class='pageno' id='Page_413'>413</span>Bab, who helped in the good work? Both are here, and -I never saw Mark more pleased than when seized around -the neck by two long brawny arms, while a cheery voice -called out: ‘Hallow, old chap, has you done forgot John -Jennins?’ I verily believe Mark cried, and I know I did, -especially when old Bab came up and shook ‘young -misses’ hand.’ I kissed her, Katy—all black, and rough, -and uncouth as she was. I wish you could see how grateful -the old creature is for every act of kindness. When we -come home again, both John and Bab will come with us, -though what we shall do with John, is more than I can -tell. Mark says he shall employ him about the office, and -this I know will delight Tom Tubbs, who has again made -friends with Chitty, and who will almost worship John -as having saved Mark’s life. Aunt Bab shall have an -honored seat by the kitchen fire, and a pleasant room all -to herself, working only when she likes, and doing as she -pleases.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Did I tell you that Mattie Tubbs was to be my seamstress? -I am getting together a curious household, you -will say; but I like to have those about me to whom I -can do the greatest amount of good, and as I happen to -know how much Mattie admires ‘the Lennox girls,’ I did -not hesitate to take her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We stopped at Annapolis on our way here, and I shall -never forget the pale, worn faces, nor the great sunken -eyes which looked at me so wistfully as I went from cot -to cot, speaking words of cheer to the sufferers, some of -whom were Mark’s companions in prison, and whose eyes -lighted up with joy as they recognized him and heard of -his escape. There are several nurses here, but no words -of mine can tell what <em>one</em> of them is to the poor fellows, -or how eagerly they watch for her coming. Following her -with greedy glances as she moves about the room, and -holding her hand with a firm clasp, as if they would keep -her with them always. Indeed, more than one heart, as -I am told, has confessed its allegiance to her; but she -answers all the same, ‘I have no love to give. It died -out long ago, and cannot be recalled.’ You can guess who -she is, Katy. The soldiers call her an angel, but we know -her as Marian.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_414'>414</span>There were great tear blots upon that letter as Katy -put it aside, and nestling close to Morris, laid her head -upon his knee, where his hand could smooth her golden -curls, while she pondered Helen’s closing words, thinking -how much they expressed, and how just a tribute they -were to the noble woman whose life had been one constant -sacrifice of self for another’s good—“The soldiers -call her an angel, but we know her as Marian.”</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div><span class='small'>THE END.</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003'> -</div> - -<p class='c016'><span class='under'>Reasons why you should obtain a Catalogue of our Publications</span></p> - -<p class='c011'>1. 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