FAMILY PRIDE

 OR

 Purified by Suffering

 BY MARY J. HOLMES

Author of "Dora Deane, " "The English Orphans, " "Homestead on theHillside, " "Tempest and Sunshine, " "Lena Rivers, " "Meadowbrook, " "CousinMaude, " etc. , etc. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE FARMHOUSE AT SILVERTON. 

Uncle Ephraim Barlow, deacon of the orthodox church in Silverton, Massachusetts, was an old-fashioned man, clinging to the old-timecustoms of his fathers, and looking with but little toleration upon whathe termed the "new-fangled notions" of the present generation. Born andreared amid the rocks and hills of the Bay State, his nature partooklargely of the nature of his surroundings, and he grew into manhood withmany a rough point adhering to his character, which, nevertheless, takenas a whole, was, like the wild New England scenery, beautiful and grand. None knew Uncle Ephraim Barlow but to respect him, and at the churchwhere he was a worshiper few would have been missed more than the tall, muscular man, with the long, white hair, who Sunday after Sunday walkedslowly up the middle aisle to his accustomed seat before the altar, andwho regularly passed the contribution box, bowing involuntarily in tokenof approbation when a neighbor's gift was larger than its wont, andgravely dropping in his own ten cents--never more, never less--alwaysten cents--his weekly offering, which he knew amounted in a year to justfive 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 ofmeal found entrance to the doors where cold and hunger would haveotherwise been, while to his minister he was literally a holder up ofthe weary hands, and a comforter in the time of trouble. 

His helpmeet, Aunt Hannah, like that virtuous woman mentioned in theBible, was one "who seeketh wool and flax, and worketh willingly withher hands, who riseth while yet it is night, and giveth meat to herhousehold. " Indeed, for this last stirring trait Aunt Hannah was ratherfamous, especially on Monday mornings, when her washing was invariablyswinging on the line ready to greet the rising sun. 

Miss Betsy Barlow, too, the deacon's maiden sister, was a character inher way, and was surely not one of those vain, frivolous females to whomthe Apostle Paul had reference when he condemned the plaiting of hairand 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 onebounded by the "huckleberry" hills and the crystal waters of Fairy Pond, which from the back door of the farmhouse were plainly seen, both in thesummer sunshine and when the intervening fields were covered with thewinter snow. 

The home of such a trio was, like themselves, ancient and unpretentious, nearly one hundred years having elapsed since the solid foundation waslaid to a portion of the building. Unquestionably, it was the oldesthouse in Silverton, for on the heavy, oaken door of what was called theback room was still to be seen the mark of a bullet, left there by somemarauders who, during the Revolution, had encamped in that neighborhood. George Washington, too, it was said, had once spent a night beneath itsroof, the deacon's mother pouring for him her Bohea tea and breaking herhome-made bread. Since that time several attempts had been made tomodernize the house. Lath and plaster had been put upon the rafters andpaper upon the walls, wooden latches had given place to iron, while inthe parlor, where Washington had slept, there was the extravagance of aknob, a genuine porcelain knob, such, as Uncle Ephraim said, was onlyfit for the gentry who could afford to be grand. For himself, he wascontent to live as his father did; but young folks, he supposed, must insome things have their way, and so when his pretty niece, who had livedwith him from childhood to the day of her marriage, came back to him awidow, bringing her two fatherless children and a host of new ideas, hegood-humoredly suffered her to tear down some of his household idolsand replace them with her own. And thus it was that the farmhousegradually changed its appearance both outwardly and in, for youngwomanhood which had but one glimpse of the outer world will not settledown quietly amid fashions a century old. And Lucy Lennox, when shereturned to the farmhouse, was not quite the same as when she went away. Indeed, Aunt Betsy in her guileless heart feared that she had actuallyfallen from grace, imputing the fall wholly to Lucy's predilection fora certain little book on whose back was written "Common Prayer, " and atwhich Aunt Betsy scarcely dared to look, lest she should be guilty ofthe enormities practiced by the Romanists themselves. Clearer headedthan his sister, the deacon read the black-bound book, finding thereinmuch that was good, but wondering why, when folks promised to renouncethe pomps and vanities, they did not do so, instead of acting more stuckup than ever. Inconsistency was the underlying strata of the wholeEpiscopal Church, he said, and as Lucy, without taking any public step, had still declared her preference for that church, he, too, in ameasure, charged her propensity for repairs to the same source with AuntBetsy; but, as he could really see no sin in what she did, he sufferedher in most things to have her way. But when she contemplated an attackupon the huge chimney occupying the center of the building, heinterfered; for there was nothing he liked better than the bright fireon the hearth when the evenings grew chilly and long, and the autumnrain was falling upon the roof. The chimney should stand, he said; andas no amount of coaxing could prevail on him to revoke his decision, thechimney stood, and with it the three fireplaces, where, in the fall andspring, were burned the twisted knots too bulky for the kitchen stove. This was fourteen years ago, and in that lapse of time Lucy Lennox hadgradually fallen in with the family ways of living, and ceased to talkof her cottage in Western New York, where her husband had died and wherewere born her daughters, one of whom she was expecting home on the warmJuly day when our story opens. 

Kate, or Katy Lennox, our heroine, had been for a year an inmate ofCanandaigua Seminary, whither she was sent at the expense of a distantrelative to whom her father had been guardian, and who, during herinfancy, had also had a home with Uncle Ephraim, her mother havingbrought her with her when, after her husband's death, she returned toSilverton. Dr. Morris Grant he was now, and he had just come home from athree years' sojourn in Paris, and was living in his own handsomedwelling across the fields toward Silverton village, and half a mile ormore from Uncle Ephraim's farmhouse. He had written from Paris, offeringto send his cousins, Helen and Kate, to any school their mother mightselect, and as Canandaigua was her choice, they had both gone thither ayear ago, Helen, the eldest, falling sick within the first three months, and returning home to Silverton, satisfied that the New England schoolswere good enough for her. This was Helen; but Katy was different. Katywas more susceptible of polish and refinement--so the mother thought;and as she arranged and rearranged the little parlor, lingering longestby the piano, Dr. Morris' gift, she drew bright pictures of her favoritechild, wondering how the plain farmhouse and its inmates would seem toher after Canandaigua and all she must have seen during her weeks oftravel since the close of the summer term. And then she wondered nextwhy Cousin Morris was so much annoyed when told that Katy had acceptedan invitation to accompany Mrs. Woodhull and her party on a trip toMontreal and Lake George, taking Boston on her homeward route. SurelyKaty's movements were nothing to him, unless--and the little, ambitiousmother struck at random a few notes of the soft-toned piano as shethought how possible it was that the interest always manifested by thestaid, quiet Morris Grant for her light-hearted Kate was more than abrotherly interest, such as he would naturally feel for the daughter ofone who had been to him a second father. But Katy was so much a childwhen he went away to Paris that it could not be. She would sooner thinkof the dark-haired Helen, who was older and more like him. 

"It's Helen, if anybody, " she said aloud, just as a voice at the windowcalled out: "Please, Cousin Lucy, relieve me of these flowers. I broughtthem over in honor of Katy's return. "

Blushing guiltily, Mrs. Lennox advanced to meet a tall, dark-lookingman, with a grave, pleasant face, which, when he smiled, was strangelyattractive, from the sudden lighting up of the hazel eyes and theglitter of the white, even teeth disclosed so fully to view. 

"Oh, thank you, Morris! Kitty will like them, I am sure, " Mrs. Lennoxsaid, taking from his hand a bouquet of the choice flowers which grewonly in the hothouse at Linwood. "Come in for a moment, please. "

"No, thank you, " the doctor replied. "There is a case of rheumatism justover the hill, and I must not be idle if I would retain the practicegiven to me. Not that I make anything but good will as yet, for only theSilverton poor dare trust their lives in my inexperienced hands. But Ican afford to wait, " and with another flash of the hazel eyes Morriswalked away a pace or two, but, 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 millfalls due to-morrow. Tell him, if he says anything in your presence, notto mind unless it is perfectly convenient. He must be somewhatstraitened just now, as Katy's trip cannot have cost him a small sum. "

The clear, penetrating eyes were looking full at Mrs. Lennox, who fora moment felt slightly piqued that Morris Grant should take so muchoversight of her uncle's affairs. It was natural, too, that he should, she knew, for, widely different as were their tastes and positions inlife, there was a strong liking between the old man and the young, who, from having lived nine years in the family, took a kindly interest ineverything pertaining to them. 

"Uncle Ephraim did not pay the bills, " Mrs. Lennox faltered at last, feeling intuitively how Morris' delicate sense of propriety would shrinkfrom her next communication. "Mrs. Woodhull wrote that the expenseshould be nothing to me, and as she is fully able, and makes so much ofKaty, I did not think it wrong. "

"Lucy Lennox! I am astonished!" was all Morris could say, as the tingeof wounded pride dyed his cheek. 

Kate was a connection--distant, it is true; but his blood was in herveins, and his inborn pride shrank from receiving so much fromstrangers, while he wondered at her mother, feeling more and moreconvinced that what he had so long suspected was literally true. Mrs. Lennox was weak, Mrs. Lennox was ambitious, and for the sake ofassociating her daughter with people whom the world had placed aboveher 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 itwell to give her the advantage of being with such people as compose thatparty, the very first in Canandaigua, besides some from New York, " Mrs. Lennox began in self-defense, but Morris did not stop to hear more, andhurried off a second time, while Mrs. Lennox looked after him, wonderingat the feeling which she called pride, and which she could notunderstand. "If Katy can go with the Woodhulls and their set, Icertainly shall not prevent it, " she thought, as she continued herarrangement of the parlor, wishing so much that it was more like whatshe 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 wasfiner 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 would be could she live to see herdaughter in similar circumstances to the envied Mrs. Woodhull, at thatmoment in the crowded car between Boston and Silverton, tired, hot, anddusty, worn out, and as nearly cross as a fashionable lady can be. 

A call from Uncle Ephraim aroused her, and going out into the squareentry she tied his gingham cravat, and then handing him the bigumbrella, an appendage he took with him in sunshine and in storm, shewatched him as he stepped into his one-horse wagon and drove brisklyaway in the direction of the depot, where he was to meet his niece. 

"I wish Cousin Morris had offered his carriage, " she thought, as thecorn-colored and white wagon disappeared from view. "The train stopsfive minutes at West Silverton, and some of those grand people will belikely to see the turnout, " and with a sigh as she doubted whether itwere not a disgrace as well as an inconvenience to be poor, she repairedto the kitchen, where sundry savory smells betokened a plentiful dinner. 

Bending over the sink, with her cap strings tucked back, her sleevesrolled up, and her short, purple calico shielded from harm by her broad, motherly check apron, Aunt Betsy stood cleaning the silvery onions, andoccasionally wiping her dim old eyes as the odor proved too strong forher. At another table stood Aunt Hannah, deep in the mysteries of thelight, white crust which was to cover the tender chicken boiling in thepot, while in the oven bubbled and baked the custard pie, rememberedas Katy's favorite, and prepared for her coming by Helenherself--plain-spoken, blue-eyed Helen--now out in the strawberry beds, picking the few luscious berries which almost by a miracle had beencoaxed to wait for Katy, who loved them so dearly. Like her mother, Helen had wondered how the change would impress her bright littlesister, for she remembered well that even to her obtuse perceptionsthere had come a pang when, after only three months abiding in a placewhere the etiquette of life was rigidly enforced, she had returned totheir homely ways, and felt that it was worse than vain to try to effecta change. But Helen's strong sense, with the help of two or three goodcries, had carried her safely through, and her humble home amid thehills was very dear to her now. But she was Helen, as the mother hadsaid; she was different from Katy, who might be lonely and homesick, sobbing herself to sleep in her patient sister's arms, as she did onthat first night in Canandaigua, which Helen remembered so well. 

"It's better, too, now, than when I came home, " Helen thought, as withher rich, scarlet fruit she went slowly to the house. "Morris is here, and the new church, and if she likes she can teach in Sunday school, though maybe she will prefer going with Uncle Ephraim. He will bepleased if she does, " and, pausing by the door, Helen looked acrossFairy Pond in the direction of Silverton village, where the top of aslender spire was just visible--the spire of St. John's, built withinthe year, and mostly, as it was whispered, at the expense of Dr. MorrisGrant, who, a zealous churchman himself, had labored successfully toinstill into Helen's mind some of his own peculiar views, as well as toawaken in Mrs. Lennox's heart the professions which had lain dormant foras long a time as the little black-bound book had lain on the cupboardshelf, forgotten and unread. 

How the doctor's views were regarded by the deacon's family we shallsee, perhaps, by and by. At present our story has to do with Helen, holding her bowl of berries by the rear door and looking across thedistant fields. With one last glance at the object of her thoughts shere-entered the house, where her mother was arranging the square tablefor dinner, bringing out the white stone china instead of the mulberryset kept for everyday use. 

"We ought to have had some silver forks before Katy came home, " shesaid, despondingly, as she laid by each plate the three-lined forks ofsteel, to pay for which Helen and Katy had picked huckleberries on thehills and dried apples from the orchard. 

"Never mind, mother, " Helen answered, cheerily; "if Katy is as she usedto be, she will care more for us than for silver forks, and I guess sheis, for I imagine it would take a great deal to make her anything but awarmhearted, 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'scorn-colored wagon, and riding with that worthy toward home, throwingkisses to every barefoot boy and girl she met, and screaming withdelight as the old familiar waymarks met her view. 

"There are the oxen, the darling oxen, and that's Aunt Betsy, with herdress pinned up as usual, " she cried, when at last the wagon stoppedbefore the door; and the four women stepped hurriedly out to meet her, almost smothering her with caresses, and then holding her off to see ifshe had changed. 

She was very stylish in her pretty traveling dress of gray, made underMrs. Woodhull's supervision, and nothing could be more becoming than herjaunty hat, tied with ribbons of blue, while the dainty kids, bought tomatch the dress, fitted her fat hands charmingly, and the littlehigh-heeled boots of soft prunella were faultless in their style. Shewas very attractive in her personal appearance, and the mental verdictof the four females regarding her intently was something as follows:Mrs. Lennox detected unmistakable marks of the grand society she hadbeen mingling in, and was pleased accordingly; Aunt Hannah pronouncedher "the prettiest creeter she had ever seen;" Aunt Betsy decided thather hoops were too big and her clothes too fine for a Barlow; whileHelen, who looked beyond dress, or style, or manner, straight into hersister's soft, blue eyes, brimming with love and tears, decided thatKaty was not changed for the worse. Nor was she. Truthful, loving, simple-hearted and full of playful life she had gone from home, and shecame back the same--never once thinking of the difference between thefarmhouse and Mrs. Woodhull's palace, or if she did, giving thepreference to the former. 

"It was perfectly splendid to get home, " she said, handing her glovesto Helen, her sunshade to her mother, her satchel to Aunt Hannah, andtossing her bonnet in the vicinity of the water pail--from which it wassaved by Aunt Betsy, who, remembering the ways of her favorite child, put it carefully in the press, examining it closely first and wonderinghow much it cost. 

Deciding that "it was a good thumpin' price, " she returned to thekitchen, where Katy, dancing and curveting in circles, scarcely stoodstill long enough for them to see that in spite of boarding school fare, of which she had complained so bitterly, her cheeks were rounded, hereyes brighter, and her lithe little figure fuller than of old. She hadimproved in looks, but she did not appear to know it, or to guess howbeautiful she was in the fresh bloom of seventeen, with her golden hairwaving around her childish forehead, and her deep, blue eyes laughing soexpressively with each change of her constantly varying face. Everythinganimate and inanimate pertaining to the old house was noticed by her. She kissed the kitten, squeezed the cat, hugged the dog, and hugged thelittle goat, tied to his post in the clover yard and trying so hard toget free. The horse, to whom she fed handfuls of grass, had been alreadyhugged. She did that the first thing after strangling Uncle Ephraim asshe alighted from the train, and some from the car window saw it, too, smiling at what they termed the charming simplicity of an enthusiasticschoolgirl. Blessed youth! blessed early girlhood, surrounded by a haloof rare beauty! It was Katy's shield and buckler, warding off many acold criticism which might otherwise have been passed upon her. 

They were sitting down to dinner now, and the deacon's voice trembledas, with the blessing invoked, he thanked God for bringing back to themthe little girl, whose head was for a moment bent reverently, butquickly lifted itself up as its owner, in the same breath with that inwhich the deacon uttered his amen, declared how hungry she was, and wentinto rhapsodies over the nicely cooked viands which loaded the table. The best bits were hers that day, and she refused nothing until it cameto Aunt Betsy's onions, once her special delight, but now declined, greatly to the distress of the old lady, who, having been on the watchfor "quirks, " as she styled any departure from long-established customs, now knew she had found one, and with an injured expression withdrew theoffered bowl, saying sadly: "You used to eat 'em raw, Catherine; what'sgot 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 uponthe "rine, " and from past experience Katy knew that her good aunt wasdispleased. Her first impulse was to accept the dish refused; but whenshe remembered her reason for refusing, she said, laughingly: "Excuseme, Aunt Betsy, I love them still, but--but--well, the fact is, I amgoing by and by to run over and see Cousin Morris, inasmuch as he wasnot polite enough to come here, and you know it might not be sopleasant. "

"The land!" and Aunt Betsy brightened. "If that's all, eat 'em. 'Tain'tnoways likely you'll get near enough to him to make any difference--onlyturn your head when you shake hands. "

But Katy remained incorrigible, while Helen, who guessed that herimpulsive sister was contemplating a warmer greeting of the doctor thana mere shaking of his hands, kindly turned the conversation by tellinghow Morris was improved by his tour abroad, and how much the poor peoplethought of him. 

"He is very fine looking, too, " she said, whereupon Katy involuntarilyexclaimed: "I wonder if he is as handsome as Wilford Cameron? Oh, Inever wrote about him, did I?" and the little maiden began to blush asshe stirred her tea industriously. 

"Who is Wilford Cameron?" asked Mrs. Lennox. 

"Oh, he's Wilford Cameron, that's all; lives on Fifth Avenue--is alawyer--is very rich--a friend of Mrs. Woodhull, and was with us inour travels, " Katy answered, rapidly, the red burning on her cheeks sobrightly that Aunt Betsy innocently passed her a big feather fan, sayingshe looked mighty hot. 

And Katy was warm, but whether from talking of Wilford Cameron or notnone could tell. She said no more of him, but went on to speak ofMorris, asking if it were true, as she had heard, that he built thenew church in Silverton. 

"Yes, and runs it, too, " Aunt Betsy answered, energetically, proceedingto tell what goin's-on they had, with the minister shiftin' his clothesevery now and ag'in, and the folks all talkin' together. "Morris got mein once, " she said, "and I thought meetin' was left out half a dozentimes, so much histin' round as there was. I'd as soon go to a show, ifit was a good one, and I told Morris so. He laughed and said I'd feeldifferent when I knew 'em better; but needn't tell me that prayers madeup is as good as them as isn't, though Morris, I do believe, will get toheaven 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 sightof 'Piscopal quirks into her head. Why, she and Morris sing thattalkin'-like singin' Sundays when the folks git up and Helen plays theaccordeon. "

"Melodeon, aunty, melodeon, " and Helen laughed merrily at her aunt'smistake, 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 mightlead to, that she kept to Cousin Morris, asking innumerable questionsabout him, his house and grounds, and whether there were as manyflowers there now as there used to be in the days when she and Helenwent to say their lessons at Linwood, as they had done before Morrissailed 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 mothersaid. She must lie down and rest, while Helen suggested that she had notyet told them about her trip, and Uncle Ephraim remarked that she wouldnot find Morris home, as he was going that afternoon to Spencer. Thislast settled it. Katy must stay at home; but instead of lying down ortalking much about her journey, she explored every nook and crevice ofthe old house and barn, finding the nest Aunt Betsy had so long lookedfor in vain, and proving to the anxious dame that she was right when sheinsisted that the speckled hen had stolen her nest and was in the act ofsetting. Later in the day, and a neighbor passing by spied the littlemaiden riding in the cart off into the meadow, where she sported like achild among the mounds of fragrant hay, playing her jokes upon the soberdeacon, who smiled fondly upon her, feeling how much lighter the laborseemed because she was there with him, a hindrance instead of a help, inspite of her efforts to handle the rake skillfully. 

"Are you glad to have me home again, Uncle Eph?" she asked, when onceshe 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 funny at me just now?" Katy continued, and the deaconreplied: "I was thinking how hard it would be for such a highty-tightything as you to meet the crosses and disappointments which lie all alongthe road which you must travel. I should hate to see your young lifecrushed out of you, as young lives sometimes are. "

"Oh, never fear for me. I am going to be happy all my life long. WilfordCameron said I ought to be, " and Katy tossed into the air a wisp of thenew-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 whenhe says it's best, we know it is, though some are straight and pleasantand others crooked and hard. "

"I'll choose the straight and pleasant, then--why shouldn't I?" Kateasked, laughingly, as she seated herself upon a rock near which the haycart had stopped. 

"Can't tell what path you'll take, " the deacon answered. "God knowswhether you'll go easy through the world, or whether he'll send yousuffering to purify and make you better. "

"Purified by suffering, " Kate said aloud, while a shadow involuntarilycrept for an instant over her gay spirits. 

She could not believe she was to be purified by suffering. She had neverdone anything very bad, and humming a part of a song learned fromWilford Cameron, she followed after the loaded cart, returning slowly tothe house, thinking to herself that there must be something great andgood in the suffering which should purify at last, but hoping she wasnot the one to whom this great good should come. 

It was supper time ere long, and after that was over Kate announced herintention of going now to Linwood, Morris' home, whether he were thereor not. 

"I can see the housekeeper and the birds and flowers, and maybe he willcome pretty soon, " she said, as she swung her straw hat by the stringand started from the door. 

"Ain't Helen going with you?" Aunt Hannah asked, while Helen herselflooked 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; but there was ahalf-dissatisfied, wistful look on her face as she watched her youngsister tripping across the fields to call on Morris Grant. 

CHAPTER II. 

LINWOOD. 

Morris had returned from Spencer, and in his dressing-gown and slipperswas sitting by the window of his cheerful library, looking out upon thepurple sunshine flooding the western sky, and thinking of the littlegirl coming so rapidly up the grassy lane in the rear of the house. Hewas going over to see her by and by, he said, and he pictured to himselfhow she must look by this time, hoping that he should not find hergreatly changed, for Morris Grant's memories were very precious of theplayful child who, in that very room where he was sitting, used to teaseand worry him so much with her lessons poorly learned, and thenever-ending jokes played off upon her teacher. He had thought of her sooften when across the sea, and, knowing her love of the beautiful, hehad never looked upon a painting or scene of rare beauty that he did notwish her by his side sharing in the pleasure. He had brought her fromthat 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 farmhouse. He never dreamed of her coming there to-night. She would, of course, wait for him. Helen had, even when it was more her place to call uponhim first. How, then, was he amazed when, just as the sun was going downand he was watching its last rays lingering on the brow of the hillacross the pond, the library door was opened wide and the room seemedsuddenly filled with life and joy, as a graceful figure, with reddish, golden hair, bounded across the floor, and winding its arms around hisneck gave him the hearty kiss which Katy had in her mind when shedeclined Aunt Betsy's favorite vegetable. 

Morris Grant was not averse to being kissed, and yet the fact that KatyLennox had kissed him in such a way awoke a chill of disappointment, forit said that to her he was the teacher still, the elder brother, whom, as a child, she had in her pretty way loaded with caresses. 

"Oh, Cousin Morris!" she exclaimed, and, still holding his hand: "Whydidn't you come over at noon, you naughty, naughty boy? But what asplendid-looking man you've got to be, though! and what do you think ofme?" she added, blushing for the first time, as he held her off from himand looked into the sunny face. 

"I think you wholly unchanged, " he answered, so gravely that Katy beganto pout as she said: "And you are sorry, I know. Pray, what did youexpect of me, and what would you have me be?"

"Nothing but what you are--the same Kitty as of old, " he answered, hisown 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 makinghim sit by her on the sofa, where she could see him distinctly, shepoured forth a volley of talk, telling him, among other things, how muchafraid of him some of his letters made her--they were so serious and solike 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 ayoung clergyman--invited to so many tea-drinkings, and having all thegirls in the parish after you, as they always are after unmarriedministers. "

Into Morris Grant's eyes there stole a troubled light as he thought howlittle Katy realized what it was to be a minister of God--to point thepeople heavenward and teach them the right way. There was a moment'spause, and then he tried to explain to her that he hoped he had not beeninfluenced either by thought of tea-drinking or having the parish girlsafter him, but rather by an honest desire to choose the sphere in whichhe could accomplish the most good. 

"I did not decide rashly, " he said, "but after weeks of anxious thoughtand prayer for guidance I came to the conclusion that in the practice ofmedicine I could find perhaps as broad a field for good as in thechurch, and so I decided to go on with my profession--to be a physicianof the poor and suffering, speaking to them of Him who came to save, andin this way I shall not labor in vain. Many would seek another placethan Silverton and its vicinity, but something told me that my work washere, and so I am content to stay, feeling thankful that my means admitof my waiting for patients, if need be, and at the same time ministeringto the wants of those who are needy. "

Gradually, as he talked, there came into his face a light, born onlyfrom the peace which passeth understanding, and the awe-struck Katycrept 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 handholding his so fast. "A minister's or a doctor's life would be drearyindeed if there was no one to share it, and I have had my dreams of thegirls, or girl, who was some day to brighten up my home. "

He looked fully at Katy now, but she was thinking of something else, andher next remark was to ask him, rather abruptly, how old he was. 

"Twenty-six last May, " he answered, while Katy continued: "You are notold 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 outin full, and Morris tried to listen patiently while Katy explained how, on the very first day of the examination, Mrs. Woodhull had come in, andwith her the grandest, proudest-looking man, who the girls some of themsaid was Mr. Wilford Cameron, from New York, a very fastidious bachelor, whose family were noted for their wealth and exclusiveness, keeping sixservants, and living in the finest style; that Mrs. Woodhull, who allthrough the year had been very kind to Katy, came to her after schooland 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 shewas quite over it now, although he was so polite to her all through thejourney, taking so much pains to have her see the finest sights, andlaughing at her enthusiasm. 

"Wilford Cameron with you on 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, andthen--well, I rode alone with him once down by the lake, and he talkedto me just as if he was not a grand man and I a little schoolgirl. Andwhen the term closed I stayed at Mrs. Woodhull's, and he was there. Heliked 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 hershawl, 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--whatnext?"

"He said more about my joining that party than anybody, and I am verysure he paid the bills. "

"Oh, Katy, " and Morris started as if he had been stung. "I would ratherhave given Linwood than have you thus indebted to Wilford Cameron or anyother man. "

"I could not well help it. I did not mean any harm, " Katy said, timidly, for at first she had shrunk from the proposition, but Mrs. Woodhullseemed to think it right, urging it on until she had consented, and soshe said to Morris, explaining how kind Mr. Cameron was, and how carefulnot to remind her of her indebtedness to him, attending to andanticipating every want as if she had been his sister. 

"You would like Mr. Cameron, Cousin Morris. He made me think of you alittle, only he is prouder, " and Katy's hand moved up Morris' coatsleeve till it rested on his shoulder. 

"Perhaps so, " Morris answered, feeling a growing resentment toward onewho, it seemed to him, had done him some great wrong. 

But Wilford was not to blame, he reflected. He could not well helpliking the bright little Katy--some; and so, conquering all ungenerousfeelings, he turned to her at last and said:

"Did my little Cousin Kitty like Wilford Cameron?"

Something in Morris' voice startled Katy strangely; her hand came downfrom his shoulder, and for an instant there swept over her an emotionsimilar to what she had felt when with Wilford Cameron she rambledalong the shores of Lake George, or sat alone with him on the deck ofthe steamer which carried them down Lake Champlain. But Morris hadalways been her brother, and she did not guess how hard it was for himto keep from telling her then that she was more to him than a sister. Had he told her, this story, perhaps, had not been written; but he keptsilence, and so it is ours to record how Katy answered frankly at last:"I guess I did like him a little. I could not help it, Morris. You couldnot, either, or any one. I believe Mrs. Woodhull was more than half inlove with him, and she is an old woman compared with me. By the way, what did she mean by introducing me to him as the daughter of JudgeLennox? I meant to have asked her, but forgot it afterward. Was fatherever a judge?"

"Not properly, " Morris replied. "He was justice of the peace inBloomfield, where you were born, and for one year held the office ofside or associate judge, that's all. Few ever gave him that title, andI wonder at Mrs. Woodhull. Possibly she fancied Mr. Cameron would thinkbetter of you if he supposed you the daughter of a judge. "

"That may be, though I do not believe he would, do you?"

Morris did not say what he thought, but quietly remarked, instead: "Iknow those Camerons. "

"What! Wilford! You don't know Wilford?" Katy almost screamed, andMorris replied: "Not Wilford, no; but the mother and the sisters werelast year in Paris, and I met them many times. "

"What were they doing in Paris?" Katy asked, and Morris replied that hebelieved the immediate object of their being there was to obtain thebest medical advice for a little orphan grandchild, a bright, beautifulboy, to whom some terrible accident had happened in infancy, preventinghis walking entirely, and making him nearly helpless. His name wasJamie, Morris said, and as he saw that Katy was interested, he told herhow 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 Savior and His love for little children. 

"Did he get well?" Katy asked, her eyes filling with tears at thepicture Morris drew of Jamie Cameron, sitting all day long in his wheelchair, and trying to comfort his grandmother's distress when thetorturing instruments for straightening his poor back were applied. 

"No, he will always be a cripple, till God takes him to Himself, " Morrissaid, 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 me, "and Katy, had she been watching, might have seen a slight flush on hischeek as he told her of the stately woman, Wilford's mother, of thehaughty Juno, a beauty and a belle, and lastly of Arabella, whom thefamily nicknamed Bluebell, from her excessive fondness for books, afondness which made her affect a contempt for the fashionable life hermother and sister led. 

It was very evident that neither of the young ladies were wholly toMorris' taste, but of the two he preferred the Bluebell, for though veryimperious and self-willed, she really had some heart, some principle, while Juno had none. This was Morris' opinion, and it disturbed thelittle Katy, as was very perceptible from the nervous tapping of herfoot 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 impossibleto think of her as associated with the Camerons, she was so whollyunlike 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' heart, forhe saw more and more how Wilford Cameron was mingled with every thoughtof the young girl, who continued: "And if he was satisfied, I guess hismother and sisters will be. Anyway, I don't want you to make me feel howdifferent I am from them. "

There were tears now on Katy's face, and casting aside all selfishness, Morris wound his arm around her, and smoothed her golden hair, just ashe used to do when she was a child and came to him to be soothed. Hesaid, very gently:

"My poor Kitty, you do like Wilford Cameron; tell me honestly--is itnot so?"

"Yes, I guess I do, " and Katy's voice was a half sob. "I could not helpit, either, he was so kind, so--I don't know what, only I could not helpdoing what he bade me. Why, if he had said: 'Jump overboard, KatyLennox, ' I should have done it, I know--that is, if his eyes had beenupon 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, akind of mesmeric influence which commanded obedience. They idolize thisWilford, and I dare say he is worthy of their idolatry. One thing, atleast, is in his favor--the crippled Jamie, for whose opinion I wouldgive more than all the rest, seemed to worship his Uncle Will, talkingof him continually, and telling how kind he was, sometimes staying upall night to carry him in his arms when the pain in his back was morethan usually severe. So there must be a good, kind heart in WilfordCameron, and if my Cousin Kitty likes him, as she says she does, and helikes her as I believe he must, why, I hope--"

Morris Grant could not finish the sentence; for he did not hope thatWilford 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 generousenough to do that, but if he did it, she must never know how much itcost him, and lest he should betray himself he could not to-night talkwith her longer of Wilford Cameron, whom he believed to be his rival. Itwas time now for Katy to go home, but she did not seem to remember ituntil Morris suggested to her that her mother might be uneasy if shestayed away much longer, and so they went together across the fields, the shadow all gone from Katy's heart, but lying so dark and heavyaround Morris Grant, who was glad when he could leave Katy at thefarmhouse door and go back alone to the quiet library, where only Godcould witness the mighty struggle it was for him to say: "Thy will bedone. " And while he prayed, not that Katy should be his, but that hemight have strength to bear it if she were destined for another, Katy, up 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 rapidsand she had cried with fear, had put his arm around her, trying to quiether, and who once again, on the mountain overlooking Lake George, hadheld her hand a moment, while he pointed out a splendid view seenthrough the opening trees. And Helen, listening, knew just as MorrisGrant had done that Katy's heart was lost, and that for Wilford Cameronto deceive her now would be a cruel thing. 

CHAPTER III. 

WILFORD CAMERON. 

The day succeeding Katy Lennox's return to Silverton was rainy and coldfor the season, the storm extending as far westward as the city of NewYork, and making Wilford Cameron shiver as he stepped from the HudsonRiver cars into the carriage waiting for him, first greeting pleasantlythe white-gloved driver, who, carefully closing the carriage door, mounted to his seat and drove his handsome bays in the direction ofNo. ---- Fifth Avenue. And Wilford, leaning back among the yieldingcushions, thought how pleasant it was to be going home again, feelingglad, as he frequently did, that the home to which he was going was inevery particular unexceptionable. The Camerons he knew were an old andhighly respectable family, while it was his mother's pride that, go backas far as one might on either side, there could not be found a singleblemish or a member of whom to be ashamed. On the Cameron side there weremillionaires, merchant princes, bankers and stockholders, professors andscholars, while on hers, the Rossiter side, there were LL. D. 's andD. D. 's, lawyers and clergymen, authors and artists, beauties and belles, the whole forming an illustrious line of ancestry, admirably representedand sustained by the present family of Camerons, occupying thebrownstone front, corner of ---- Street and Fifth Avenue, where thehandsome carriage stopped and a tall figure ran quickly up the marblesteps. There was a soft rustle of silk, an odor of delicate perfume, and from the luxurious chair before the fire kindled in the grate anelderly lady arose and advanced a step or two toward the parlor door. Inanother moment she was kissing the young man bending over her andsaluting her as mother, kissing him quietly, properly, as the Cameronsalways kissed. She was very glad to have Wilford home again, for he washer favorite child, and brushing the raindrops from his coat she led himto the fire, offering him her own easy-chair and starting herself inquest of another. But Wilford held her back, and making her sit down, hedrew an ottoman beside her and then asked her first how she had been andthen how Jamie was, then where his sisters were, and if his father hadcome home--for there was a father, the elder Cameron, a quiet, unassuming man, who stayed all day in Wall Street, seldom coming home intime to carve at his own dinner table, and when he was at home, askingfor nothing except to be left by his fashionable wife and daughters tohimself, free to smoke and doze over his evening paper in the seclusionof 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 withher jeweled hand, and telling him first that with the exception of acold taken at the park on Saturday afternoon when she drove out to trythe new carriage, she was in usual health; second, that Jamie was verywell, but impatient for his uncle's return; third, that Juno wasspending a few days in Orange, and that Bell had gone to pass the nightwith her particular friend, Mrs. Meredith, the bluest, most bookishwoman in New York. 

"Your father, " the lady added, "has not yet returned, but as the dinneris ready I think we will not wait. "

She touched a silver bell beside her, and ordering dinner to be sent upat once, went on to ask her son concerning his journey, and the peoplehe had met. But Wilford, though intending to tell her all, for he keptnothing from his mother, would wait till after dinner. So, offering herhis arm, he led her out to where the table was spread, widely differentfrom the table prepared for Katy Lennox away among the Silverton hills, for where at the farmhouse there had been only the homely wares commonto the country, with Aunt Betsy's onions served in a bowl, there washere the finest of damask, the choicest of china, the costliest ofcut-glass, and the heaviest of silver, with the well-trained waitergliding in and out, himself the very personification of strict tableetiquette, such as the Barlows had never dreamed about. There was nofricasseed chicken here, or flaky crust, with pickled beans and applesauce; no custard pie with strawberries and rich, sweet cream, pouredfrom a blue earthen pitcher, but there were soups, and fish, and roastedmeats, and dishes with French names and taste, and desert elaboratelygotten up and served with the utmost precision, and wines, with fruitand colored cloth, and handsome finger bowl; and Mrs. Cameron presidingover all, with the ladylike decorum so much a part of herself, her soft, glossy silk of brown, with her rich lace and diamond pin seeming inkeeping with herself and her surroundings. And opposite to her Wilfordsat, a tall, dark, handsome man of thirty or thereabouts--a man whosepolished manners betokened at once a perfect knowledge of the world, andwhose face to a close observer indicated how little satisfaction he hadas yet found in that world. He had tried its pleasures, drinking the cupof freedom and happiness to its very dregs, and though he thought heliked it, he often found himself dissatisfied and reaching aftersomething which should make life more real, more worth the living for. He had traveled all over Europe twice, had visited every spot worthvisiting in his own country, had been a frequenter of every fashionableresort in New York, from the skating pond to the theatres, had beenadmitted as a lawyer, had opened an office on Broadway, acquiring somereputation in his profession, had looked at more than twenty girls withthe view of making them his wife, and found them as he believed, alikefickle, selfish, artificial and hollow-hearted. In short, while thinkingfar more of family, and accomplishments, and style, than he ought, hewas yet heartily tired of the butterflies who flitted so constantlyaround him, offering to be caught if he would but stretch out his handto catch them. This he would not do, and disgusted with the world as hesaw it in New York, he had gone to the Far West, roaming a while amidthe solitude of the broad prairies, and finding there much that wassoothing to him, but not discovering the fulfillment of the great wanthe was craving, until, coming back to Canandaigua, he met with KatyLennox. He had smiled wearily when asked by Mrs. Woodhull to go with herto the examination then in progress at the seminary. There was nothingthere to interest him, he thought, as Euclid and algebra, French andrhetoric were bygone things, while young school misses in braided hairand pantalets were shockingly insipid. Still, to be polite to Mrs. Woodhull, a childless, fashionable woman, who patronized Canandaiguagenerally, and Katy Lennox in particular, he consented to go, and soonfound himself in the crowded room, the cynosure of many eyes as thewhisper ran around that the fine-looking man with Mrs. Woodhull was theWilford Cameron from New York, and brother to the proud, dashing JunoCameron, who once spent a few weeks in town, Wilford knew they weretalking about him, but he did not care, and assuming as easy an attitudeas possible, he leaned hack in his chair, yawning indolently, andwishing the time away, until the class in algebra was called and KatyLennox came tripping on to the stage, a pale blue ribbon in her goldenhair and her simple dress of white relieved by no ornament except thecluster of wild flowers fastened in her belt and at her graceful throat. But Katy needed no ornaments to make her more beautiful than she was atthe moment when, with glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes, modestly castdown for a moment as she took her place, and then as modestly upliftedto her teacher's face, she first burst upon Wilford's vision, a creatureof rare, bewitching beauty, such as he had never dreamed about. 

Wilford had met his destiny, and he felt it in every throb of bloodwhich went rushing through his veins. 

"Who is she?" he asked of Mrs. Woodhull, and that lady knew at once whomhe 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 inCanandaigua with a letter of introduction to herself from the ambitiousmother, and being rather inclined to match-making, she had had Katy inher mind when she urged Wilford to accompany her to the seminary. Accordingly, she answered him at once: "That is Katy Lennox, daughter ofJudge Lennox, who died in East Bloomfield a few years ago. "

Lennox was a good name, while the title of judge increased its value. Wilford would not have acknowledged that, perhaps, but it wasnevertheless the truth, and Mrs. Woodhull, who understood exactly theclaim which Mr. Lennox had to the title, knew it was true, and that waswhy she spoke as she did. It was time Wilford Cameron was settled inlife, and with the exception of wealth and family position, he could notfind a better wife than Katy Lennox, and she would do what she could tobring the marriage about. 

"Pretty, is she not?" was her question put to Wilford after answeringhis inquiry, but Wilford did not hear, having neither eye nor ear foranything save Kitty, acquitting herself with a good deal of credit asshe worked out a rather difficult problem, her dimpled white handshowing to good advantage against the deep black of the board; and thenher voice, soft-toned and silvery as a lady's voice should be, thrilledWilford's ear, awaking a strange feeling of disquiet, as if the worldwould never again be quite the same to him that it was before he metthat fair young girl now passing from the room. 

Mrs. Woodhull saw that he was interested, and mentally congratulatingherself upon the successful working of her plan, first gained thepreceptress' consent, and then asked Katy home with her to tea thatnight. And this was how Wilford Cameron came to know little Katy Lennox, the simple-hearted child, who blushed so prettily when first presentedto him, and blushed again when he praised her recitations, but who afterthat forgot the difference in their social relations, laughing andchatting as merrily in his presence as if she had been alone with Mrs. Woodhull. This was the great charm to Wilford, Katy was so whollyunconscious of himself or what he might think of her, that he could notsit in judgment upon her, and he watched her eagerly as she sported, andflashed, and sparkled, filling the room with sunshine, and putting torout the entire regiment of blues which had been for months harassingthe city-bred young man. 

If there was any one thing in which Katy excelled, it was music, bothvocal and instrumental, a taste for which had been developed very early, and fostered by Morris Grant, who had seen that his cousin had everyadvantage which Silverton could afford. Great pains, too, had been givento her style of playing while at Canandaigua, so that as a performerupon the piano she had few rivals in the seminary, while her bird-likevoice filled every nook and corner of the room, where, on the nightafter her visit to Mrs. Woodhull, a select exhibition was held, Katyshining as the one bright star, and winning golden laurels for beauty, grace and perfect self-possession from others than Wilford Cameron, whowas one of the invited auditors. 

"Juno herself could not equal that, " he thought, as Katy's fingers flewover the keys, executing a brilliant and difficult piece without asingle mistake, and receiving the applause of the spectators easily, naturally, as if it were an everyday occurrence. But when by request shesang "Comin' through the Rye, " Wilford's heart, if he had any before, was wholly gone, and he dreamed of Katy Lennox that night, wonderingall the ensuing day how his haughty mother would receive that youngschoolgirl as her daughter, wife of the son whose bride she fancied mustbe equal to the first lady in the land. And if Katy were not now equalshe could be made so, Wilford thought, wondering if Canandaigua were thebest place for her, and if she would consent to receive a year or twoyears' tuition from him, provided her family were poor. He did not knowas they were, but he would ask, and he did, feeling a pang of regretwhen he heard to some extent how Katy was circumstanced. Mrs. Woodhullhad never been to Silverton, and so she did not know of Uncle Ephraim, with his old-fashioned spouse and his older-fashioned sister, but sheknew that they were poor--that some relation sent Katy to school; andshe frankly told Wilford so, adding, as she detected the shadow on hisface, that one could not expect everything, and that a girl like Katywas not found every day. Wilford admitted all this, growing more andmore infatuated, until at last he consented to join the travelingparty, provided Katy joined it too, and when on the morning of theirdeparture for the Falls he seated himself beside her in the car, hecould 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 withhimself than he had been before in years. His past life was not all freefrom error, and there were many sad memories haunting him, but with Katyat his side, seeing what he saw, admiring what he admired, and doingwhat he bade her do, he gave the bygones to the wind, feeling only anintense desire to clasp the young girl in his arms and bear her away tosome spot where with her pure fresh life all his own he could begin theworld anew, and retrieve the past which he had lost. This was when hewas with Katy. Away from her he could remember the difference in theirposition, and prudential motives began to make themselves heard. Neverbut once had he taken an important step without consulting his mother, and then, alas! the trouble it brought him was not ended yet, and neverwould be ended until death had set its seal upon the brow of one almostas dear as Katy, though in a far different way. And this was why Katycame back to Silverton unengaged, leaving her heart with WilfordCameron, who would first seek advice from his mother ere committinghimself by word. He had seen the white-haired man with his coarse, linencoat and coarser pants, waiting eagerly for her when the train stoppedat Silverton, but standing there as he did, with his silvery locksparted in the center, and shading his honest, open face, Uncle Ephraimlooked like some patriarch of old rather than a man to be despised, andWilford felt only a respect for him until he saw Katy's arms wound solovingly around his neck as she kissed and called him Uncle Eph. Thatsight grated harshly, and Wilford, knowing this was the uncle of whomKaty had often spoken, felt glad that he was not bound to her by anypledge. Very curiously he looked after the couple, witnessing themeeting between Katy and old Whitey, and guessing rightly that thecorn-colored vehicle was the one sent to transport Katy home. He wasvery moody for the remainder of the route between Silverton and Albany, where he parted with his Canandaigua friends, they going on to thewestward, while he stopped all night in Albany, where he had somebusiness to transact for his father. And this was why he did not reachNew York until late in the afternoon of the following day. 

He was intending to tell his mother everything, except indeed that hepaid Katy's bills. He would rather keep that to himself, as it mightshock his mother's sense of propriety and make her think less of Katy, impulsive, confiding Katy, little dreaming as on that rainy afternoonshe sat in the kitchen at Silverton, with her feet in the stove-oven andthe cat asleep in her lap, of the conversation taking place betweenWilford Cameron and his mother. They had left the dinner table, andlighting his cigar, which for that one time the mother permitted in theparlor, Wilford opened the subject by asking her to guess what took himoff so suddenly with Mrs. Woodhull. 

The mother did not know--unless--and a strange light gleamed in hereyes, as she asked if it were some girl. 

"Yea, mother, it was, " and without any reservation Wilford frankly toldthe story of his interest in Katy Lennox. 

He admitted that she was poor and unaccustomed to society, but he lovedher more than words could express. 

"Not as I loved Genevra, " he said, as he saw his mother about to speak, and there came a look of intense pain into his fine eyes as hecontinued: "That was the passion of a boy of nineteen, simulated bysecrecy, but this is different--this is the love of a mature man ofthirty, who feels that he is capable of judging for himself. "

In Wilford's voice there was a tone warning the mother that oppositionwould only feed the flame, and so she offered none directly, but heardhim patiently to the end, and then quietly questioned him of Katy andher family, especially the last. What did he know of it? Was it one todetract from the Cameron line kept untarnished so long? Were therelatives such as he never need blush to own, even if they came thereinto their drawing-room, as they would come if Katy did?

Wilford thought of Uncle Ephraim as he had seen him upon the platform atSilverton, and could scarcely repress a smile as he pictured to himselfhis mother's consternation at beholding that man in her drawing-room, but he did not mention the deacon, though he acknowledged that Katy'sfamily friends were not exactly the Cameron style. But Katy was young;Katy could be easily molded, and once away from her old associates, hismother 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 whichKaty would have shrunk; could she have seen it and understood itsmeaning. 

"No, I do not marry the family, " Wilford rejoined, emphatically, but theexpression of his face was different from his mother's, for where shethought only of herself, not hesitating to trample on all Katy's love ofhome and friends, Wilford remembered Katy, thinking how he would makeamends for separating her wholly from her home, as he surely meant to doif he should win her. "Did I tell you, " he continued, "that her fatherwas a judge? She must be well connected on that side, though I neverheard of a Judge Lennox in any of our courts. "

"It must have been when you were in Europe the first time, " Mrs. Cameronsuggested, and as if the mention of Europe reminded him of somethingelse, Wilford rejoined: "Katy would be kind to Jamie, mother. In somethings she is almost as much a child as he, poor fellow, " and againthere came into his eyes a look of pain, while his voice was sadder inits tone, just as it always was when he spoke of little Jamie. "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 well knewthat trying to forget her was the surest way of keeping her in mind, andshe dared not confess to him how wholly she was determined that KatyLennox 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 makethe most of it, receiving Katy kindly and doing her best to educate herup to the Cameron ideas of style and manner. 

"Let matters take their course for a while, " she said, "and see how youfeel after a little. We are going to Newport the first of August, Jamieand all, and perhaps you may find somebody there infinitely superior tothis Katy Lennox. That's your father's ring. He is earlier than usualto-night. I would not tell him yet till you are more decided, " and thelady 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, savethat the shaggy eyebrows gave them a different expression. He was veryglad to see his son, though he merely shook his hand, asking whatnonsense took him off around the Lakes with Mrs. Woodhull, and wonderingif women were never happy unless they were chasing after fashion. Theelder Cameron was evidently not of his wife's way of thinking, but shelet him go on until he was through, and then, with the most unruffledmien, suggested that his dinner would he cold. He was accustomed tothat, and so he did not mind, but he hurried through his lonely mealto-night, for Wilford was home, and the father was always happier whenhe knew his son was in the house. Contrary to his usual custom, he spentthe short summer evening in the parlor, talking with Wilford on variousitems of business, and thus preventing any further conversationconcerning Katy Lennox, who just as their evening was commencing, wasbowing the knee reverently between her sister and her uncle, listeningwhile the good old man invoked the nightly blessing, without which henever retired to sleep. But in that household on Fifth Avenue there wasno blessing asked of Heaven, no word of thanksgiving for the prosperityso long vouchsafed, no prayer said except by the crippled Jamie, who, remembering the Savior of whom Morris Grant had told him when across thesea, whispered his childish prayer, thanking him most for bringing backthe uncle so dearly loved, the Wilford who, on his way to his own room, had stopped as he always did to say good-night to Jamie, folding hisarms around him and kissing his sweet face with a fondness in whichthere was something half regretful, half sad, as well as pleasing. 

It took but a short time for Wilford to fall back into his old way ofliving, passing a few hours of each day in his office, driving with hismother, reading to little Jamie, sparring with his imperious sister, Juno, and teasing his blue sister, Bell, but never after that firstnight breathing a word to any one of Katy Lennox. And still Katy was notforgotten, as his mother sometimes believed. On the contrary, the verysilence he kept concerning her increased his passion, until he beganseriously to contemplate a trip to Silverton. The family's removal toNewport, however, diverted his attention for a little, making him decideto wait and see what Newport might have in store for him. But Newportwas dull this season, at least to him, though Juno and Bell both foundample scope for their different powers of attraction, and his mother wasalways happy when showing off her children and knowing that they wereappreciated. With Wilford it was different. Listless and taciturn, hewent through with the daily routine, wondering how he had ever foundhappiness there, and finally, at the close of the season, casting allpolicy and prudence aside, he wrote to Katy Lennox that he was comingto Silverton on his way home, and that he presumed he should have nodifficulty in finding his way to the farmhouse. 

CHAPTER IV. 

PREPARING FOR THE VISIT. 

"Of course he will not, for I shall ask Dr. Morris to go after him inhis carriage, " Katy said, as out in the orchard where she was gatheringthe early harvest apples she read the letter brought her by UncleEphraim, her face crimsoning all over with happy blushes as she sawthe dear affixed to her name. 

Katy had waited so anxiously for a letter, or some message which shouldsay that she was not forgotten by Wilford Cameron, but as the weeks wentby and it did not come, a shadow had fallen upon her spirits, and thefamily missed something from her ringing laugh and frolicsome ways, while she herself wondered why the household duties given to her shouldbe so utterly distasteful. She used to enjoy them so much, but now sheliked nothing except to go with Uncle Ephraim out into the fields whereshe could sit alone while he worked nearby, or to ride with Morris asshe sometimes did when he made his round of calls. She was not as goodas she used to be, she thought, and with a view of making herself bettershe took to teaching in Morris' and Helen's Sunday-school, greatly tothe distress of Aunt Betsy, who groaned bitterly when both her niecesadopted the "Episcopal quirks, " forsaking entirely the house whereSunday after Sunday her old-fashioned leghorn with its faded ribbon ofgreen was seen, bending down in the humble worship which God so muchapproves. But teaching in Sunday-school, taken by itself, could not makeKaty better, and the old restlessness remained until the morning when, sitting on the grass beneath the apple tree, she read that WilfordCameron was coming. Then, as by magic, everything was changed, and Katynever forgot the brightness of that day when the robins sang so merrilyabove her head and all nature seemed to sympathize with her joy. Afterward there came to her dark, wretched hours, when in her youngheart's agony she wished that day had never been, but there was noshadow around her now, nothing but hopeful sunshine, and with a boundingstep she sought out Helen, to tell her the good news. Helen's firstremark, however, was a chill upon her spirits. 

"Wilford Cameron coming here? What will he think of us, we are so unlikehim?"

This was the first time Katy had seriously considered the differencebetween her surroundings and those of Wilford Cameron, or how it mightaffect him. But Aunt Betsy, who had never dreamed of anything likeWilford's home, and who thought her own quite as good as they wouldaverage, comforted her, telling her how "if he was any kind of a chap hewouldn't be looking round, and if he did, who cared; she guessed theywas as good as he, and as much thought of by the neighbors. "

Wilford's letter had been delayed so that the morrow was the dayappointed for his coming, and never sure was there a busier afternoonat the farmhouse than the one which followed the receipt of the letter. Everything that was not spotlessly clean before was made so now. AuntBetsy in her petticoat and short gown going down upon her knees to scrubthe door sill of the back room, as if the city guest were expected tosit in there. On Aunt Hannah and Mrs. Lennox devolved the duty ofpreparing for the wants of the inner man, while Helen and Katy benttheir energies to beautifying their humble home and making the most oftheir plain furniture. 

"If Uncle Ephraim had only let me move the chimney, we could have hada nice spare sleeping-room instead of this little tucked up hole, " Mrs. Lennox said, coming in with her hands covered with flour, and casting arueful look at the small room kept for company, and where Wilford was tosleep. 

It was not very spacious, being only large enough to admit the high postbed, a single chair, and the old-fashioned washstand with the hole inthe top for the bowl and a drawer beneath for towels, the wholepresenting a most striking contrast to those handsome chambers on FifthAvenue, or, indeed, to the one at the Ocean House where Wilford satsmoking and wishing the time away, while Helen and Katy held aconsultation as to whether it would not be better to dispense with theparlor altogether and give that room to their visitor. But this wasvetoed by Aunt Betsy, who, having finished the back door sill, had nowcome around to the front, and, with her scrubbing brush in one hand andher saucer of sand in the other, held forth upon the foolishness of thegirls. 

"Of course if they had a beau, they'd want a t'other room, else wherewould they do their sparkin'. "

That settled it. The parlor should remain as it was, Katy said, and AuntBetsy went on with her scouring, while Helen and Katy consulted togetherhow to make the huge feather bed seem more like the mattresses such asMorris had, and such as Mr. Cameron must be accustomed to. Helen's mindbeing the most suggestive solved the problem first, and a largecomfortable was brought from the box in the garret and folded carefullyover the bed, which, thus hardened and flattened, "seemed like amattress, " Katy said, for she tried it, pronouncing it good, and feelingquite well satisfied with the room when it was finished. And certainlyit was not wholly uninviting with its snowy bed, whose covering almostswept the floor, its strip of bright carpeting in front, its vase offlowers upon the stand and its white fringed curtain sweeping back fromthe narrow window. 

"I'd like to sleep here myself. It looks real nice, " was Katy's comment, while Helen offered no opinion, but followed her sister into the yardwhere they were to sweep the grass and prune the early Septemberflowers. 

This afforded Aunt Betsy a chance to reconnoiter and criticise, whichlast she did unsparingly. 

"What have they done to that bed to make it look so flat? Put on abed-quilt, as I'm alive! What children! It would break my back to liethere, and this Cannon is none the youngest, accordin' to theirtell--nigh on to thirty, if not turned. It will make his bones ache, ofcourse. I am glad I know better than to treat visitors that way. Thecomforter may stay, but I'll be bound I'll make it softer!" and stealingup the stairs, Aunt Betsy brought down a second feather bed, muchlighter than the one already on, but still large enough to suggest thethought of smothering. This she had made herself, intending it as a partof Katy's "setting out, " should she ever marry, and as things now seemedtending that way, it was only right, she thought, that Mr. Cannon, asshe called him, should begin to have the benefit of it. Accordingly, thehandiwork of the girls was destroyed, and two beds, instead of one, wereplaced beneath the comfortable, which Aunt Betsy permitted to remain. 

"I'm mighty feared they'll find me out, " she said, stroking, andpatting, and coaxing the beds to lie down, taking great pains in themaking, and succeeding so well that when her task was done there was noperceptible difference between Helen's bed and hers, except that thelatter was a few inches higher than the former, and more nearlyresembled a pincushion in shape. 

Carefully shutting the door, Aunt Betsy hurried away, feeling glad thather nieces were too much engaged in training a vine over a frame toafford them time for discovering what she had done. Katy, she knew, wasgoing to Linwood by and by, after various little things which Mrs. Lennox thought indispensable to the entertaining of so great a man asWilford Cameron, and which the farmhouse did not possess, and as Helentoo would be busy, there was not much danger of detection. 

It was late when the last thing was accomplished, and the sun was quitelow ere Katy was free to start on her errand, carrying the market basketin which she was to put the articles borrowed of Morris. 

He was sitting out on his piazza enjoying the fine prospect he had ofthe sun shining across the pond, on the Silverton hill, and just gildingthe top of the little church nestled in the valley. At sight of Katy hearose and greeted her with the kind, brotherly manner now habitual withhim, for since we last looked upon Morris Grant he had fought a fiercebattle with his selfishness, coming off conqueror, and learning tolisten quite calmly while Katy talked to him, as she often did, ofWilford Cameron, never trying to conceal from him how anxious she wasfor some word of remembrance, and often asking if he thought Mr. Cameronwould ever write to her. It was hard at first for Morris to listen, andharder still to hold back the passionate words of love trembling on hislips, to keep himself from telling her how improbable it was that onelike Mr. Cameron should cherish thoughts of her after mingling againwith the high-born city belles, and to beg of her to take him inCameron's stead--him who had loved her so long, ever since he first knewwhat it was to love, and who would cherish her so tenderly, loving herthe more because of the childishness which some men might despise. ButMorris had kept silence, and, as weeks went by, there came insensiblyinto his heart a hope, or rather conviction, that Cameron had forgottenthe little girl who might in time turn to him, gladdening his home justas she did every spot where her fairy footsteps trod. Morris did notfully know that he was hugging this fond dream, until he felt the keenpang which cut like a dissector's knife as Katy, turning her bright, eager face up to him, whispered softly: "He's coming to-morrow--hesurely is; I have his letter to tell me so. "

Morris did not see the sunshine then upon the distant hills, although itlay there just as purple as before Katy came, bringing blackness andpain when heretofore she had only brought him joy and gladness. Therewas a moment of darkness, in which the hills, the pond, the sunsetting, and Katy seemed a great ways off to Morris, trying so hard tobe calm, and mentally asking for help to do so. But Katy's hat, whichshe swung in her hand, had become entangled in the vines encircling oneof the pillars of the piazza, and so she did not notice him until alltraces of his agitation were past, and he could talk with her concerningWilford, and then playfully lifting her basket he asked what she hadcome to get. 

This was not the first time the great house had rendered a like serviceto the little house, and so Katy did not blush when she explained howher mother wanted Morris' forks, and saltcellars, and spoons, and wouldhe be kind enough to bring the castor over himself, and come to dinnerto-morrow at two o'clock?--and would he go after Mr. Cameron? The forks, and saltcellars, and spoons, and castor were cheerfully promised, whileMorris consented to go for the guest; and then Katy came to the rest ofher errand, the part distasteful to her, inasmuch as it might look likethrowing disrespect upon Uncle Ephraim--honest, unsophisticated UncleEphraim--who would come to the table in his shirt sleeves. This was theburden of her grief--the one thing she dreaded most, inasmuch as sheknew by experience 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 waseither guest or traveler, could not make due allowance for these littledepartures from refinement, so obnoxious to people of his training. 

"What is it, Katy?" Morris asked, as he saw how she hesitated, andguessed her errand was not done. 

"I hope you will not think me foolish or wicked, " Katy began, her eyesfilling with tears, as she felt that she might be doing Uncle Ephraima wrong by even admitting that in any way he could be improved. "Icertainly love Uncle Ephraim dearly, and I do not mind his ways, but Mr. Cameron may--that is, oh, Cousin Morris! did you ever notice how UncleEphraim 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 hishaving been often remonstrated with for that breach of etiquette;whereas I doubt much whether the idea that it was not in strictaccordance with politeness was ever suggested to him. "

"Maybe not, " Katy answered. "It was never necessary till now, and I feelso disturbed, for I want Mr. Cameron to like him, and if he does that Iam sure he won't. "

"Why do you think so?" Morris asked, and Katy replied: "He is soparticular, and was so very angry at a little hotel between LakesGeorge and Champlain, where we took our dinner before going on theboat. There was a man along--a real good-natured man, too, so kind toeverybody--and, as the day was warm, he carried his coat on his arm, andsat down to the table that way, right opposite me. Mr. Cameron was soindignant, 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 sorry as if he had done something wrong. I am sure, though, he had not?"

This last was spoken interrogatively, and Morris replied: "There isnothing wrong or wicked in going without one's coat. Everything dependsupon the circumstances under which it is done. For me to appear at tablein my shirt sleeves would be very impolite; but for an old man likeUncle Ephraim, who has done it all his life and who never gave it athought, would, in my estimation, be a very different thing. Still, Mr. Cameron may see from another standpoint. But I would not distressmyself. That love is not worth much which would think the less of youfor anything _outré_ which Uncle Ephraim may do. If Mr. Cameron cannotstand the test of seeing your relatives as they are, he is not worth thelong face you are wearing, " and Morris pinched her cheek playfully. 

"Yes, I know, " Katy replied; "but if you only could manage Uncle Eph Ishould be so glad. "

Morris had little hope of breaking a habit of years, but he promised totry if an opportunity should occur, and as Mrs. Hull, the housekeeper, had by this time gathered up the articles required for the morrow, Morris himself took the basket in his own hands and went back with Katyacross the fields, which had never seemed so desolate as to-night, whenhe felt how vain were all the hopes he had been cherishing. 

"God bless you, Katy, and may Mr. Cameron's visit bring you as muchhappiness as you anticipate, " he said as he set her basket upon thedoorstep and turned back without entering the house. 

Katy noticed the peculiar tone of his voice, and again there swept overher the same thrill she had felt when Morris first said to her, "And didKaty like this Mr. Cameron?" but so far was she from guessing the truththat she only feared she might have displeased him by what she had saidof Uncle Ephraim; and as an unkind word breathed against a dear friend, even to a mutual friend, always leaves a scar, so Katy, though sayingnothing ill, still felt that in some way she had wronged her uncle; andthe good old man, resting from his hard day's toil, in his accustomedchair, with not only his coat, but his vest and boots cast aside, littleguessed what prompted the caresses which Katy bestowed upon him, sittingin his lap and parting lovingly his snowy hair, as if thus she wouldmake amends for any injury done. Little Katy-did he called her, lookingfondly into her bright, pretty face, and thinking how terrible it wouldbe to see that face shadowed with pain and care. Somehow, of late, UncleEphraim was always thinking of such a calamity as more than possible forKaty, and when that night she knelt beside him, his voice was full ofpleading earnestness as he prayed that God would keep them all insafety, and bring to none of them more grief, more suffering, than wasnecessary to purify them for His own. "Purified by suffering" cameinvoluntarily into Katy's mind as she listened, and then remembered thetalk down in the meadow, when she sat on the rock beneath the butternuttree. But Katy was far too thoughtless yet for anything serious to abidewith her long; and the world, while it held Wilford Cameron as he seemedto her now, was too full of joy for her to be sad, and so she arose fromher knees, thinking only how long it would be before to-morrow noon, wondering if Wilford would surely be there next time their eveningprayers were said, and if he would notice Uncle Ephraim's shockinggrammar!

CHAPTER V. 

WILFORD'S VISIT. 

Much surprise was expressed by all the Cameron family, save the mother, when told that instead of accompanying them to New York, Wilford wouldtake another route, and one directly out of his way; while, what wasstranger than all, he did not know when he should be home; it woulddepend upon circumstances, he said, evincing so much annoyance at beingquestioned with regard to his movements, that the quick-witted Junoreadily divined that there was some girl in the matter, teasing himunmercifully to tell her who she was, and what the fair one was like. 

"Don't, for pity's sake, bring us a verdant specimen, " she said, as sheat last bade him good-by, and turned her attention to Mark Ray, herbrother's partner, who had been with them at Newport, and whom she wasbending all her energies to captivate. 

With his sister's bantering words ringing in his ears, Wilford kept onhis way until the last change was made, and when he stopped again itwould be at Silverton. He did not expect any one to meet him, but as heremembered the man whom he had seen greeting Katy, he thought it notunlikely that he might be there now, laughing to himself as he picturedJuno's horror, could she see him driving along in the corn-coloredvehicle which Uncle Ephraim drove. But that vehicle was safe at homebeneath the shed, while Uncle Ephraim was laying a stone wall upon thehuckleberry hill, and the handsome carriage waiting at Silverton depotwas certainly unexceptionable; while in the young man who, as the trainstopped and Wilford stepped out upon the platform, came to meet him, bowing politely, and asking if he were Mr. Cameron, Wilford recognizedthe true gentleman, and his spirits arose as Morris said to him: "I amMiss Lennox's cousin, deputed by her to meet and take charge of you fora time. "

Wilford had heard of Dr. Morris Grant, for his name was often onJamie's lips, while his proud Sister Juno, he suspected, had tried herpowers of fascination in vain upon the grave American, met in thesaloons of Paris; but he had no suspicion that his new acquaintancewas the one until they were driving toward the farmhouse and Morrismentioned having met his family in France, inquiring after them all, andespecially for Jamie. Involuntarily then Wilford grasped again the handof Morris Grant, exclaiming: "And are you the doctor who was so kind toJamie? I did not expect this pleasure?"

After that the ride seemed very short, and Wilford was surprised when asthey turned a corner in the sandy road, Morris pointed to the farmhouse, saying: "We are almost there--that is the place. "

"That!" and Wilford's voice indicated his disappointment, for in all hismental pictures of Katy Lennox's home he had never imagined anythinglike this:

Large, rambling and weird-like, with something lofty and imposing, justbecause it was so ancient, was the house he had in his mind, and hecould not conceal his chagrin as his eye took in the small, lowbuilding, with its high windows and tiny panes of glass, paintless andblindless, standing there alone among the hills, Morris understood itperfectly; but, without seeming to notice it, remarked: "It is theoldest house probably in the country, and should be invaluable on thataccount. I think we Americans are too fond of change and too muchinclined to throw aside all that reminds us of the past. Now I likethe farmhouse just because it is old and unpretentious. "

"Yes, certainly, " Wilford answered, looking ruefully around him at theold stone wall, half tumbled down, the tall well-sweep, and the patch ofsunflowers in the garden, with Aunt Betsy bending behind them, pickingtomatoes for dinner, and shading her eyes with her hand to look at himas he drove up. 

It was all very rural, no doubt, and very charming to people who likedit, but Wilford did not like it, and he was wishing himself safely inNew York when a golden head flashed for an instant before the window andthen disappeared as Katy emerged into view, waiting at the door toreceive him and looking so sweetly in her dress of white with thescarlet geranium blossoms in her hair, that Wilford forgot thehomeliness of her surroundings, thinking only of her and how soft andwarm was the little hand he held as she led him into the parlor. He didnot know she was so beautiful, he said to himself, and he feasted hiseyes upon her, forgetful for a time of all else. But afterward whenKaty left him for a moment he noticed the well-worn carpet, the sixcane-seated chairs, the large stuffed rocking chair, the fall-leaftable, with its plain wool spread, and, lastly, the really expensivepiano, the only handsome piece of furniture the room contained, andwhich he rightly guessed must have come from Morris. 

"What would Juno or Mark say?" he kept repeating to himself, halfshuddering as he recalled the bantering proposition to accompany himmade by Mark Ray, the only young man whom he considered fully his equalin New York. 

Wilford knew these feelings were unworthy of him and he tried to shakethem off, listlessly turning over the books upon the table, books whichbetokened in some one both taste and talent of no low order. 

"Mark's favorite, " he said, lifting up a volume of Schiller, and turningto the fly-leaf he read, "Helen Lennox, from Cousin Morris, " just asKaty returned and with her Helen, whom she presented to the stranger. 

Helen was prepared to like him just because Katy did, and her firstthought was that he was splendid-looking, but when she met fully hiscold glance and knew how closely he was scrutinizing her, there arosein her heart a feeling of dislike for Wilford Cameron, which she couldnever wholly conquer. He was very polite to her, but something in hismanner annoyed and provoked her, it was so cool, so condescending, asif he endured her merely because she was Katy's sister, nothing more. 

"Rather pretty, more character than Katy, but odd, and self-willed, withno kind of style. "

This was Wilford's running comment on Helen as he took her in from theplain arrangement of her dark hair to the fit of her French calico andthe cut of her linen Collar. 

Fashionable dress would improve her very much, he thought, turning fromher with a feeling of relief to Katy, whom nothing could disfigure, andwho 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 inat last, flurried, fidgety, and very red, both from exercise and thebright-hued ribbons streaming from her cap and sadly at variance withthe color of her dress. Wilford noticed the discrepancy at once, andnoticed too how little style there was about the nervous woman greetinghim so deferentially and evidently regarding him as something infinitelysuperior to herself. Wilford had looked with indifference upon Helen, but it would take a stronger word to express his opinion of the mother. Had he come accidentally upon her without ever having met with Katy, hewould have regarded her as a plain, common country woman, who meant wellif nothing more; but now, alas! with Katy in the foreground, he wasweighing her in a far different balance and finding her sadly wanting. He had not seen Aunt Hannah, nor yet Aunt Betsy, for they were in thekitchen, making the last preparations for the dinner to which Morris wasto remain. He was in the parlor now and in his presence Wilford feltmore at ease, more as if he had found an affinity. Uncle Ephraim was notthere, having eaten his bowl of milk and gone back to his stone wall, sothat upon Morris devolved the duties of host, and he courteously led theway to the little dining-room, which Wilford confessed was notuninviting, with its clean floor and walls, and the table so loaded withthe good things Aunt Hannah had prepared, burning and browning herwrinkled face, which nevertheless smiled pleasantly upon the strangerpresented as Mr. Cameron. 

About Aunt Hannah there was something naturally ladylike, and Wilfordsaw it; but when it came to Aunt Betsy, of whom he had never heard, hefelt for a moment as if by being there in such promiscuous company hehad somehow fallen from the Cameron's high estate. By way of pleasingthe girls and doing honor to their "beau, " as she called Wilford, AuntBetsy had donned her very best attire, wearing the slate-colored pongeedress, bought twenty years before, and actually sporting a set ofHelen's cast off hoops, which being quite too large for the dimensionsof her scanty skirt, gave her anything but the stylish appearance sheintended. 

"Oh, auntie!" was Katy's involuntary exclamation, while Helen bit herlip with vexation, for the hoop had been an after thought to Aunt Betsyjust before going in to dinner. 

But the good old lady never dreamed of shocking any one with herattempts at fashion; and curtseying very low to Mr. Cameron, she hopedfor a better acquaintance, and then took her seat at the table, justwhere each movement could be distinctly seen by Wilford, scanning her sointently as scarcely to hear the reverent words with which Morris askeda blessing upon themselves and the food so abundantly prepared. Theycould hardly have gotten through that first dinner without Morris, whoadroitly tried to divert Wilford's mind from what was passing aroundhim. But with all his vigilance he could not prevent his hearing AuntBetsy as, in an aside to Helen, she denounced the heavy fork she wasawkwardly trying to use, first expressing her surprise at finding it byher plate instead of the smaller one to which she was accustomed. 

"The land! if you didn't borry Morris' forks! I'd as soon eat with thetoastin' iron, " she said, in a tone of distress, but Helen's foottouching hers warned her to keep silence, which she did after that, andthe dinner proceeded quietly, Wilford discovering ere its close thatMrs. Lennox, now that she was more composed, had really some pretensionsto a lady, while Helen's dress and collar ceased to be obnoxious, as hewatched the play of her fine features and saw her eyes kindle as shetook a modest part in the conversation when it turned on books andliterature. 

Meanwhile Katy kept very still, her cheeks flushing and her eyes castdown whenever she met Wilford's gaze; but when, after dinner was overand Morris had gone, she went with him down to the shore of the pond, her tongue was loosed, and Wilford found again the little fairy who hadso bewitched him a few weeks before. And yet there was a load upon hismind--a shadow made by the actual knowledge that between Katy's familyand his there was a gulf which never could be crossed by either party. He might bear Katy over, it was true, but would she not look longinglyback to the humble home, and might he not sometimes be greatly chagrinedby the sudden appearing of some one of this old-bred family who did notseem to realize how ignorant they were, how far below him in the socialscale? Poor Wilford! he winced and shivered when he thought of AuntBetsy, in her antiquated pongee, and remembered that she was a nearrelative of the little maiden sporting so playfully around him, stealinghis heart away in spite of family pride, and making him more deeply inlove than ever. It was very pleasant down by the pond, and Wilford, wholiked staying there better than at the house, kept Katy with him untilthe sun was going down and they heard in the distance the tinkle of abell as the deacon's cows plodded slowly homeward. Supper was waitingfor them, and with his appetite sharpened by his walk, Wilford found nocause of complaint against Aunt Hannah's viands, though he smiledmentally as he accepted the piece of apple pie Aunt Betsy offered him, saying by way of recommendation that "she made the crust but Catherinepeeled and sliced the apples. "

The deacon had not returned from his work, and so Wilford did not seehim until he came suddenly upon him, seated in the woodshed door, washing his feet after the labor of the day. Ephraim Barlow was a man tocommand respect, and to a certain extent Wilford recognized the trueworth embodied in that unpolished exterior. He did not, however, seemuch of him that night, for, as the deacon said, apologetically: "Thecows is to milk and the chores all to do, for I never keep no boy, " andwhen at last the chores were done 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 ofGod, and involuntarily found himself kneeling when Katy knelt, noticingthe deacon's grammar, it is true, but still listening patiently to therather lengthy prayer which included him as well as the rest of mankind. 

There was no chance of seeing Katy alone, and so full two hours beforehis usual custom Wilford retired to the little room to which the deaconconducted him, saying as he put down the lamp: "You'll find it prettysnug quarters, I guess, for such a close, muggy night as this, but ifyou can't stand it you must lie on the floor. "

And truly they were snug quarters, Wilford thought; but there was noalternative, and a few moments found him in the center of two featherbeds, neither Helen nor Katy having discovered the addition made by AuntBetsy, and which came near being the death of the New York guest, who, wholly unaccustomed to feathers, was almost smothered in them, besidesbeing nearly melted. To sleep was impossible, as the September nightwas hot and sultry, and never for a moment did Wilford lose hisconsciousness or forget to accuse himself of being an idiot for cominginto that heathenish neighborhood after a wife when at home there wereso many girls ready and waiting for him. 

"I'll go back to-morrow morning, " he said, and, striking a match, heread in his Railway Guide when the first train passed Silverton, feelingcomforted to think that only a few hours intervened between him andfreedom. 

But alas! for Wilford. He was but a man, subject to man's caprices, andwhen next morning he met Katy Lennox, looking in her light muslin aspure and fair as the white blossoms twined in her wavy hair, hisresolution began to waver. Perhaps there was a decent hotel inSilverton; he would inquire of Dr. Grant; at all events he would nottake the first train as he had intended doing; and so he stayed, eatingfried apples and beefsteak, but forgetting to criticise, in hisappreciation of the rich thick cream poured into his coffee, and thesweet, golden butter, which melted in soft waves upon the flakey rolls. Again Uncle Ephraim was absent, having gone to the mill before Wilfordleft 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 carriagewhich Morris sent around, excusing himself from coming on the plea ofbeing 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 remainanother day and see more of Katy's family. Accordingly, after dinner, hebent his energies to read them all, from Helen down to Aunt Betsy, thelatter of whom proved the most transparent of the four. Arrayed againin the pongee, but this time without the hoop, she came into the parlor, bringing her calico patchwork, which she informed him was pieced in the"herrin' bone pattern" and intended for Katy; telling him, further, thatthe feather bed on which he slept was also a part of "Catherine'ssetting out, " and was made from feathers she picked herself, showing himas proof a mark upon her arm, left there by the gray goose, which hadproved a little refractory when she tried to draw a stocking over itshead. 

Wilford groaned, and Katy's chance for being Mrs. Cameron was growingconstantly less and less as he saw more and more how vast was thedifference between the Barlows and himself. Helen, he acknowledged, waspassable, though she was not one whom he could ever introduce into NewYork society; and he was wondering how Katy came to be so unlike therest, when Uncle Ephraim came up from the meadow, and announced himselfas ready now to visit, apologizing for his apparent neglect, and seemingso absolutely to believe that his company was, of course, 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 backagainst the wall, and going occasionally to the outside door to relievehimself of his tobacco juice, for chewing was one of the deacon'sweaknesses. His pants were faultlessly clean, and his vest was buttonednearly up to his throat, but his coat was hanging on a nail out by thekitchen door, and, to Katy's distress and Wilford's horror, he sat amongthem in his shirt sleeves, all unconscious of harm or of the disquietawakened in the bosom of the young man, who on that point was foolishlyfastidious, and who showed by his face how much he was annoyed. Not eventhe presence of Morris, who came in about tea time, was of any avail tolift the cloud from his brow, and he seemed moody and silent untilsupper was announced. This was the first opportunity Morris had had oftrying his powers of persuasion upon the deacon, and now, at a hintfrom Katy, he said to him in an aside, as they were passing into thedining-room: "Suppose, Uncle Ephraim, you put on your coat for once. Itis better than coming to the table so. "

"Pooh, " was Uncle Ephraim's innocent rejoinder, spoken loudly enoughfor Wilford to hear, "I don't need it an atom. I shan't catch cold, forI am used to it; besides that, I never could stand the racket this hotweather. "

In his simplicity he did not even suspect Morris' motive, but imputed itwholly to his concern lest he should take cold. And so Wilford Cameronfound himself seated next to a man who willfully trampled upon all rulesof etiquette, shocking him in his most sensitive parts, and making himthoroughly disgusted with the country and country people generally. Allbut Morris and Katy--he did make an exception in their favor, leaningmost to Morris, whom he admired more and more as he became betteracquainted with him, wondering how he could content himself to settledown quietly in Silverton, when he would surety die if compelled to livethere for a week. Something like this he said to Dr. Grant when thatevening they sat together in the handsome parlor at Linwood, for Morriskindly invited him to spend the night with him:

"I stay at Silverton, first, because I think I can do more good herethan elsewhere, and, secondly, because I really like the country and thecountry people, for, strange and uncouth as they may seem to you, whonever lived among them, they have kinder, truer hearts beating beneaththeir rough exteriors, than are often found in the city. "

This was Morris' reply, and in the conversation which ensued WilfordCameron caught glimpses of a nobler, higher phase of manhood than he hadthought existed, feeling an unbounded respect for one who, because hebelieved it to be his duty, was, as it seemed to him, wasting his lifeamong people who could not appreciate his character, though they mightidolize the man. But this did not reconcile Wilford one whit the more toSilverton. Uncle Ephraim had completed the work commenced by the twofeather beds, and at the breakfast, spread next morning in the coziestof breakfast-rooms, he announced his intention of returning to New Yorkthat day. To this Morris offered no objection, but asked to beremembered to the mother, the sisters, and little Jamie, and theninvited Wilford to stop altogether at Linwood when he came again toSilverton. 

"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' eye:"I found Miss Katy a delightful traveling acquaintance, and on my wayfrom 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 thosewords and understood their meaning, just as Morris did, feeling a risingindignation for the man with whom he could not be absolutely angry, hewas so self-possessed, so pleasant and gentlemanly, while better thanall, was he not virtually giving Katy up? and if he did, might she notturn at last to him?

These were Morris' thoughts as he walked with Wilford across the fieldsto the farmhouse, where Katy met them with her sunniest smile, singingto them, at Wilford's request, her sweetest song, and making him halfwish he could revoke his hasty decision and tarry a little longer. Butit was now too late for that; the carriage which would take him to thedepot was already on its way from Linwood; and when the song was endedhe told her of his intentions to leave on the next train, feeling a pangwhen he saw how the blood left her cheek and lip, and then came surgingback as she said timidly: "Why need you leave so soon?"

"Oh, I have already outstayed my time. I thought of going yesterday, and my partner, Mr. Ray, will be expecting me, " Wilford replied, involuntarily laying his hand upon Katy's shining hair, while Morrisand Helen stole quietly from the room. 

Thus left to himself, Wilford continued:

"Maybe I'll come again some time. Would you like to have me?"

"Yes, " and Katy's blue eyes were lifted pleadingly to the young man, whohad never loved her so well as that very moment when resolving to casther off. 

And as for Katy, she mentally called herself a fool for sufferingWilford Cameron to see what was in her heart; but she could not help it, for she loved him with all the strength of her impulsive nature, and tohave him leave her so suddenly hurt her cruelly. 

For a moment Wilford was strongly tempted to throw all family prideaside, 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 hisSister Betsy, arose in time to prevent it, and so he only kissed herforehead caressingly as he said good-by, telling her that he should notsoon forget his visit to Silverton, and then as the carriage drove up, going out to where the remainder of the family were standing togetherand commenting upon his sudden departure. 

It was not sudden, he said, trying to explain. He really had thoughtseriously of going yesterday, and feeling that he had something to atonefor, he tried to be unusually gracious as he shook their hands, thankingthem for their kindness, but seeming wholly oblivious to Aunt Betsy'sremark that "she hoped to see him again, if not at Silverton, in NewYork, where she wanted dreadfully to visit, but never had on accountof the 'bominable prices charged to the taverns, and she hadn't noacquaintances there. "

This was Aunt Betsy's parting remark, and after Katy, simple-heartedAunt Betsy liked Wilford Cameron better than any one of the group whichwatched him as he drove rapidly from their door. Aunt Hannah thought himtoo much stuck up for farmer's folks, while Mrs. Lennox, whose ambitionwould have accounted him a most desirable match for her daughter, couldnot deny that his manner toward them, though polite in the extreme, wasthat of a superior to people greatly beneath him; while Helen, who sawclearer than the rest, read him tolerably aright, and detected thestruggle between his pride and his love for poor little Katy, whom shefound sitting on the floor, just where Wilford left her standing, herhead resting on the chair and her face hidden in her hands as she sobbedquietly, hardly knowing why she cried or what to answer when Helen askedwhat was the matter. 

"It was so queer in him to go so soon, " she said; "just as if he wereoffended about something. "

"Never mind, Katy, " Helen said, soothingly. "If he's for you he will comeback again. He could not stay here always, of course; and I must say Irespect him for attending to his business, if he has any. He has beengone from home for weeks, you know. "

This was Helen's reasoning; but it did not comfort Katy, whose facelooked white and sad, as she moved listlessly about the house, almostcrying again when she beard in the distance the whistle of the trainwhich was to carry Wilford Cameron away, and end his first visit toSilverton. 

CHAPTER VI. 

IN THE SPRING. 

Katy Lennox had been very sick, and the bed where Wilford slept hadstood in the parlor during the long weeks while the obstinate fever ranits course; but she was better now, and sat nearly all day before thefire, sometimes trying to crochet a little, and again turning over thebooks which Morris had brought to interest her--Morris, the kindphysician, who had attended her so faithfully, never leaving her whilethe fever was at its height, unless it was necessary, but staying withher day and night, watching her symptoms carefully, and praying soearnestly that she might not die--not, at least, until some token hadbeen given that again in the better world he should find her, wherepartings were unknown and where no Wilford Camerons could contest theprize with him. Not that he was greatly afraid of Wilford now; that fearhad mostly died away just as the hope had died from Katy's heart thatshe would ever meet him again. 

Since the September morning when he left her, she had not heard from himexcept once, when in the winter Morris had been to New York, and havinga few hours' leisure on his hands had called at Wilford's office, receiving a most cordial reception, and meeting with young Mark Ray, whoimpressed him as a man quite as highly cultivated as Wilford; andpossessed of more character and principle. This call was not altogetherof Morris' seeking, but was made rather with a view to pleasing Katy, who, when she learned that he was going to New York, had saidinadvertently: "Oh, I do so hope you'll meet with Mr. Cameron, for thenwe shall know that he is neither sick nor dead, as I have sometimesfeared. "

And so, remembering this, Morris had sought out his rival, feeling morethan repaid for the mental effort it had cost him, when he saw howreally glad Wilford seemed to meet him. The first commonplaces over, Wilford inquired for Katy. Was she well, and how was she occupying hertime this winter?

"Both Helen and Katy are pupils of mine, " Morris replied, "recitingtheir lessons to me every day when the weather will admit of theircrossing the fields to Linwood. We have often wondered what had becomeof you, that you did not even let us know of your safe arrival home, " headded, looking Wilford fully in the eye, and rather enjoying hisconfusion as he tried to apologize. 

He had intended writing, but an unusual amount of business had occupiedhis time. "Mark will tell you how busy I was, " and he turned appealinglyto his partner, in whose expressive eyes Morris read that Silverton wasnot unknown to him. 

But if Wilford had told him anything derogatory of the farmhouse or itsinmates, 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 somesplendid hunting and fishing there, and I had last fall half a mind totry it. "

This time there was something comical in the eyes turned somischievously upon Wilford, who colored scarlet for an instant, but soonrecovered 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, whileJamie--well, Jamie, I believe, worships the memory of the physician whowas so kind to him in France. You did Jamie a world of good, Dr. Grant, and you must see him. Mark will go with us, of course. "

There was something so hearty in Wilford's invitation that Morris didnot again object, and two hours later found him in the drawing-room atNo. ---- Fifth Avenue, receiving the friendly greetings of Mrs. Cameronand her daughter, each of whom vied with the other in their politeattentions to him, while little Jamie, to whose nursery he was admitted, wound his arms around his neck and laying his curly head upon hisshoulder, cried quietly, whispering as he did so: "I am so glad, Dr. Grant, so glad to see you again. I thought I never should, but I've notforgotten the prayer you taught me, and I say it often when my backaches so I cannot sleep and there's no one around to hear but Jesus. Ilove Him now, if he did make me lame, and I know that He loves me. "

Surely the bread cast upon the waters had returned again after manydays, and Morris Grant did not regret the time spent with the poorcrippled boy, teaching him the way of life and sowing the seed whichnow was bearing fruit. Nor did he regret having accepted Wilford'sinvitation to dinner, as by this means he saw the home which hadwell-nigh been little Katy Lennox's. She would be sadly out of placehere with these people, he thought, as he looked upon all theirformality and ceremony and then contrasted it with what Katy had beenaccustomed to. Juno would kill her outright, was his next mentalcomment, as he watched that haughty young lady, dressed in the extremeof fashion and dividing her coquetries between himself and Mr. Ray, who, being every way desirable both in point of family and wealth, wasevidently her favorite. She had colored scarlet when first presented toDr. Grant, and her voice had trembled as she took his offered hand, forshe remembered the time when her liking had not been concealed, and wasonly withdrawn at the last because she found how useless it was to wasteher affections upon one who did not prize them. 

When Wilford first returned from Silverton he had, as a sore means offorgetting Katy, told his mother and sisters something of the farmhouseand its inmates; and Juno, while ridiculing both Helen and Katy, hadfelt a fierce pang of jealousy in knowing they were cousins to MorrisGrant, 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 andDr. Grant and how with the quick insight of a smart, bright woman, sheguessed that it was one of these same cousins, Katy most likely, herbrother having described Helen as very commonplace, and for a time shehad hated poor, innocent Katy most cordially for having come between herand 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 charmingcousins, when you were in Paris? Why, Brother Will describes one of themas a little water lily, she is so fair and pretty. Katy, I think is hername. Wilford, isn't it Katy Lennox whom you think so beautiful, andwith whom you are more than half in love?"

"Yes, it is Katy, " and Wilford spoke sternly, for he did not like Juno'sbantering tone, but he could not stop her, and she went on:

"Are they your cousins, Dr. Grant?"

"No, they are removed from me two or three degrees, their father havingbeen only my second cousin. "

The fact that Katy Lennox was not nearly enough related to Dr. Grant toprevent his marrying her if he liked, did not improve Juno's amiability, and she continued to ask questions concerning both Katy and Helen, thelatter of whom she persisted in thinking was strong-minded, until MarkRay came to the rescue, diverting her attention by adroitlycomplimenting 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 toMorris at parting, but he did not tell her that such an event would givehim the greatest pleasure. On the contrary, he merely replied:

"If you do you will find plenty of room at Linwood for those four trunkswhich I remember seeing in Paris, and your brother will tell you whetherI am a hospitable host or not. "

Biting her lip with chagrin, Juno went back to the drawing-room, whileMorris returned to his hotel, accompanied by Wilford, who passed theentire evening with him, appearing somewhat constrained, as if there wassomething on his mind which he wished to say; but it remained unspoken, and there was no allusion to Silverton until as Wilford was leaving, hesaid:

"Remember me kindly to the Silverton friends, and say I have notforgotten them. "

And this was all there was to carry back to the anxious Katy, who on theafternoon of Morris' return from New York was over at Linwood waiting topour his tea and make his toast, she pretended, though the real reasonwas shining all over her telltale face, which grew so bright and eagerwhen Morris said:

"I dined at Mr. Cameron's, Kitty. "

But the brightness gradually faded as Morris described his call and thenrepeated Wilford's message. 

"And that was all, " Katy whispered sorrowfully as she beat the damaskcloth softly with her fingers, shutting her lips tightly together tokeep 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 hedid not seem to see it, talking of New York and the fine sights inBroadway until Katy was herself again, able to take part in theconversation. 

"Please don't tell Helen that you saw Wilford, " she said to Morris as hewalked home with her after tea, and that was the only allusion she madeto it, never after that mentioning Wilford's name or giving any token ofthe wounded love still so strong within her heart, and waiting only forsome slight token to waken it again to life and vigor. 

This was in the winter, and Katy had been very sick since then--so sickthat even to her the thought had sometimes come: "What if I should die?"but she was too weak, too nearly unconscious, to go further and reflectupon the terrible reality death would bring if it found her unprepared. She had only strength and sense enough to wonder if Wilford would carewhen he heard that she was dead; and once, as she grew better, shealmost worked herself into a second fever with assisting at her ownobsequies, seeing only one mourner, and that one Wilford Cameron. Evenhe was not there in time to see her in her coffin, but he wept over herlittle grave and called her "darling Katy. " So vividly had Katy picturedall this scene, that Morris, when he called, found her flushed and hot, with traces of tears on her face. 

In reply to his inquiries as to what was the matter, she had answeredlaughingly: "Oh, nothing much--only I have been burying myself, " and soMorris never dreamed of the real nature of her reveries, or guessed thatWilford Cameron was mingled with every thought. She had forgotten him, he believed; and when, as she grew stronger, he saw how her eyessparkled at his coming, and how impatient she seemed if he was obligedto hurry off, hope whispered that she would surely be his, and hisusually grave face wore a look of happiness which even his patientsnoticed, feeling themselves better after one of his cheery visits. PoorMorris! 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, sayingto himself: "If I find her alone, perhaps I'll tell her of my love, andask if she will come to Linwood this summer;" and Morris paused a momentbeneath a beechwood tree to still the throbbings of his heart, whichbeat so fast as he thought of going home some day from his weary workand finding Katy there, his little wife--his own--whom he might caressand love all his affectionate nature would prompt him to. He knew thatin some points she was weak--a silly little thing she called herselfwhen comparing her mind with Helen's--but there was about her so muchof purity, innocence, and perfect beauty, that few men, however strongtheir intellect, could withstand her, and Morris, though knowing herweakness, felt that in possessing her he should have all he needed tomake this life desirable. She would improve as she grew older, and itwould be a most delightful task to train her into what she was capableof becoming. Alas! for Dr. Morris! He was very near the farmhouse now, and there were only a few minutes between him and the cloud which woulddarken his horizon so completely. Katy was alone, sitting up in herpretty dressing gown of blue, which was so becoming to her purecomplexion. Her hair, which had been all cut away during her longsickness, was growing out again somewhat darker than before, and lay inrings upon her head, making her look more childish than ever. But tothis Morris did not object. He liked to have her a child, and hethought he had never seen her so wholly beautiful as she was thismorning, when, with glowing cheek and dancing eyes, she greeted him ashe came in. 

"Oh, Dr. Morris!" she began, holding up a letter she had in her hand, "I am so glad you've come, for I wanted to tell you so badly Wilford hasnot forgotten me, as I used to think, and as I guess you thought, too, though you did not say so. He has written, and he is coming again, if Iwill let him; and, oh, Morris! I am so glad! Ain't you? Seeing you knewall 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 andpanting for the breath which came so heavily. 

Something he said apologetically about being snow blind, for therewas that day quite a fall of soft spring snow; and then with a mightyeffort, which made his heart quiver with pain, Morris was himself oncemore, and took the letter in his hand. 

"Perhaps I had better not read it, " he said, but Katy insisted that hemight, and thinking to himself: "It will cure me sooner perhaps, " heread the few lines Wilford Cameron had written to his "dear littleKaty. "

That was the way he addressed her, going on to say that circumstanceswhich he could not explain to her had kept him silent ever since he lefther the previous autumn; but through all he never for a moment hadforgotten her, thinking of her the more for the silence he hadmaintained. "And now that I have risen above the circumstances, " headded, 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 shallbe there. Yours very truly, W. Cameron. "

Morris read the letter through, feeling that every word was separatinghim further and further from Katy, to whom he said: "You will answerthis?"

"Yes, oh yes; perhaps to-day. "

"And you will tell him to come?"

"Why, yes--what else should I tell him?" and Katy's blue eyes lookedwonderingly at Morris, who hardly knew what he was doing, or why he saidto her next: "Listen to me, Katy. You know why Wilford Cameron comeshere 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 excitingcircumstances, and, as your physician, I desire that you tell him towait at least three weeks before he comes. Will you do so, Katy?"

"That is just as Helen talked, " Katy answered, mournfully. "She said Iwas not able. "

"And will you heed us?" Morris asked again, while Katy after a momentconsented; and glad of this respite from what he knew to a certaintywould be, Morris dealt out her medicine, and for an instant felt herrapid pulse, but did not retain her hand within his own, nor lay hisother upon her head, as he had sometimes done. 

He could not do that now, and so he hurried away, finding the world intowhich he went far different from what it had seemed an hour ago. Thenall was bright and hopeful; but now, alas! a darker night was gatheringaround him than any he had ever known, and the patients visited that daymarveled at the whiteness of his face, asking if he were ill? Yes, heanswered them truly, and for two days he was not seen again, butremained at home alone, where none but his God was witness to what hesuffered; but when the third day came he went again among his sick, grave, quiet and unchanged to outward appearance, unless it was thathis voice, always so kind, had now a kinder tone and his manner wastenderer, more sympathizing. Inwardly, however, there was a change, forMorris Grant had lain himself upon the sacrificial altar, willing to beand to endure whatever God should appoint, knowing that all wouldeventually be for his good. To the farmhouse he went every day, talkingmost with Helen now, but never forgetting who it was sitting so demurelyin the armchair, or flitting about the room, for Katy was gainingrapidly. 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 secretwondered to see how she improved, her cheeks growing round and full andher eyes shining with returning health and happiness. 

At Helen's instigation Katy had deferred Wilford's visit four weeksinstead of three, but in that time there had come two letters from him, letters so full of anxiety and sympathy for "his poor little Katy whohad been so sick, " that even Helen began to think she had done injusticeto him, that he was not as proud and heartless as she supposed, and thathe did love her sister after all. 

"If I supposed he meant to deceive her I should wish I was a man tocowhide him, " she said to herself, with flashing eye, as she heard Katyexulting that he was coming "to-morrow. "

This time he would stop at Linwood, for Katy had asked Morris if hemight, while Morris had told her "yes, " feeling his heart wound throbafresh, as he thought how hard it would be to entertain his rival. Ofhimself Morris could do nothing, but with the help he never sought invain he could do all things, and so he gave orders that the best chambershould be prepared for his guest, bidding Mrs. Hull, his housekeeper, see that no pains were spared for his entertainment, and then with Katyhe waited for the day, the last one in April, which should bring WilfordCameron a second time to Silverton. 

CHAPTER VII. 

WILFORD'S SECOND VISIT. 

Wilford Cameron had tried to forget Katy Lennox, while his mother andsisters had done their best to help to forget, or at least sicken ofher; and as the three, Juno, Bell and the mother, were very differentlyconstituted, they had widely different ways of assisting him in hisdilemma, the mother complimenting his good sense in drawing back froman alliance which could only bring him mortification; Bell, the bluesister, ignoring the idea of Wilford's marrying that country girl assomething too preposterous to be contemplated for a moment, much less tobe talked about; while Juno spared neither ridicule nor sarcasm, usingthe former weapon so effectually that her brother at one time nearlywent over to the enemy; and Katy's tears, shed so often when no onecould see her, were not without a reason. Wilford was trying to forgether, both for his sake and her own, for he foresaw that she could notbe happy with his family, and he came to think it might be a wrong toher, transplanting her into a soil so wholly unlike that in which herhabits and affections had taken root. 

His father once had abruptly asked him if there was any truth in thereport that he was about to marry and make a fool of himself, and whenWilford 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 thegirl, except what I gathered from your mother and sisters. You have notasked 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 aspoverty and the daughter of a tinker; but if you don't love her, andshe's rich as a nabob, for thunder's sake keep away from her. "

This was the elder Cameron's counsel, and Katy's cause arose fifty percent, in consequence. Still Wilford was sadly disquieted, so much sothat his partner, Mark Ray, could not fail to observe that something wastroubling him, and at last frankly asked what it was. Wilford knew hecould trust Mark, and he confessed the whole, telling him far more ofSilverton than he had told his mother, and then asking what his friendwould do were the case his own. 

Fond of fun and frolic, Mark laughed immoderately at Wilford'sdescription of Aunt Betsy bringing her "herrin' bone" patchwork into theparlor, and telling him it was a part of Katy's "settin' out, " but whenit came to her hint for an invitation to visit in New York, the amusedyoung man roared with laughter, wishing so much that he might live tosee the day when poor Aunt Betsy Barlow stood ringing for admittance atNo. ---- Fifth Avenue. 

"Wouldn't it be rich, though, the meeting between your Aunt Betsy andJuno?" and the tears fairly poured down the young man's face. 

But Wilford was too serious for trifling, and after his merriment hadsubsided, Mark talked with him candidly, sensibly, of Katy Lennox, whosecause he warmly espoused, telling Wilford that he was far too sensitivewith regard to family and position. 

"You are a good fellow on the whole, but too outrageously proud, " hesaid. "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 asweak and ambitious, are objections which you would rather should notexist; but if you love the girl, take her, family and all. Not that youare to transport the whole colony of Barlows to New York, " he added, ashe saw Wilford's look of horror, "but make up your mind to endure whatcannot be helped, resting yourself upon the fact that your position issuch as cannot well be affected by any marriage you might make, providedthe wife were right. "

This was Mark Ray's advice, and it had great weight with Wilford, whoknew that Mark came, if possible, from a better line of ancestry thanhimself, inasmuch as his maternal grandmother was a near relative of theEnglish Percys, and the daughter of a lord. And still Wilford hesitated, waiting until the winter was over before he came to the decision whichwhen it was reached was firm as a granite rock. He had made up his mindat last to marry Katy Lennox if she would accept him, and he told hismother so in the presence of his sisters, when one evening they were allkept at home by the rain. There was a sudden uplifting of Bell'seyelashes, a contemptuous shrug of her shoulders, and then she went onwith the book she was reading, wondering if Katy was at all inclined toliterature, and thinking if she were that it might be easier to tolerateher. Juno, who was expected to say the sharpest things, turned upon himwith the exclamation:

"If you can stand those two feather beds, you can do more than Isupposed, " and as one means of showing her disapproval, she quitted theroom, while Bell, who had taken to writing articles on the follies ofthe age, soon followed her sister to elaborate an idea suggested to hermind by her brother's contemplated marriage. 

Thus left alone with her son, Mrs. Cameron tried all her powers ofpersuasion upon him in vain. But nothing she said influenced him in theleast, seeing which she suddenly confronted him with the question:"Shall you tell her all? A husband should have no secrets of that kindfrom 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 ithas been for me to bring my mind to that, or how sorry I am that we everkept that secret--when Genevra died--"

"Hush-h!" came warningly from the mother as Juno reappeared, the warningindicating that Genevra, whoever she might be, was a personage nevermentioned, except by mother and son. 

As Juno remained the conversation was not resumed, and the next morningWilford wrote to Katy Lennox the letter which carried to her so much ofjoy, and to Dr. Grant so much of grief. To wait four weeks, as Katy saidhe must, was a terrible trial to Wilford, who counted every moment whichkept him from her side. It was all owing to Dr. Grant and thatperpendicular Helen, he knew, for Katy in her letter had admitted thatthe waiting was wholly their suggestion; and Wilford's thoughtsconcerning them were anything but complimentary, until a new idea wassuggested, which drove every other consideration from his mind. 

Wilford was naturally jealous, but that fault had once led him into sodeep a trouble that he had struggled hard to overcome it, and now, atits first approach, after he thought it dead, he tried to shake itoff--tried not to believe that Morris cared especially for Katy. Butthe mere possibility was unendurable, and in a most feverish state ofexcitement he started again for Silverton. 

As before, Morris was waiting for him at the station, his cordialgreeting and friendly manner disarming him from all anxiety in thatquarter, and making him resolve anew to trample the demon jealousy underhis feet, where it could never rise again. Katy's life should not bedarkened by the green monster, he thought, and her future would havebeen bright indeed had it proved all that he pictured it as he drovealong with Morris in the direction of the farmhouse, for he was to stopthere first and then at night go over to sleep at Linwood. 

Katy was waiting for him, and as he met her alone, he did not hesitateto kiss her more than once as he kept her for a moment in his arms, andthen held her off to see if her illness had left any traces upon her. Ithad not, except it were in the increased delicacy of her complexion andthe short hair now growing out in silky rings. She was very pretty inher short hair, but Wilford felt a little impatient as he saw howchildish it made her look, and thought how long it would take for it toattain its former length. He was already appropriating her to himself, and devising ways of improving her. In New York, with Morris Grantstanding before his jealous gaze, he could see no fault in Katy, andeven now, with her beside him, and the ogre jealousy gone, he saw nofault in her; it was only her dress, and that could be so easilyremedied. Otherwise she was perfect, and in his delight at meeting heragain he forgot to criticise the farmhouse and its occupants, as he haddone before. 

They were very civil to him--the mother overwhelmingly so--insomuch thatWilford could not help detecting her anxiety that all should be settledthis time. Helen, on the contrary, was unusually cool, confirming him inhis opinion that she was strong-minded and self-willed, and making himresolve to remove Katy as soon as possible from her strait-lacedinfluence. When talking with his mother he had said that if Katy hadtold him "yes, " he should probably place her at some fashionable schoolfor 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 heimmediately. He would then take her to Europe, where she could have thebest of teachers, besides the advantage of traveling; and it was a verysatisfactory picture he drew of the woman whom he should introduce intoNew York society as his wife, Mrs. Wilford Cameron. It is true that Katyhad not yet said the all-important word, but she was going to say it, and when late that afternoon they came up from the walk he had asked herto take, she was his promised wife. 

They had sat together on the very rock where Katy sat that day whenUncle Ephraim told her of the different paths there were through life, some pleasant and free from care, some thorny and full of grief. Katyhad never forgotten the conversation, and, without knowing why, she hadalways avoided that rock beneath the butternut as a place where therehad been revealed to her a glimpse of something sad; and so, whenWilford proposed resting there, she at first objected, but yielded atlast, and, with his arm around her, listened to the story of his love. It was what she had expected and thought herself prepared for, but whenit came it was so real, so earnest, that she could only clasp her handsover her face, which she hid on Wilford's shoulder, weeping passionatelyas she thought how strange it was for a man like Wilford Cameron to seekher for his wife. Katy was no coquette; whatever she felt she expressed, and when she could command herself she frankly confessed to Wilford herlove for him, telling him how the fear that he had forgotten her hadhaunted her all the long, long winter; and then with her clear, truthfulblue eyes looking into his, asking him why he had not sent her somemessage if, as he said, he loved her all the time. 

For a moment Wilford's lip was compressed and a flush overspread hisface, as, drawing her closer to him, he replied: "My little Katy willremember that in my first note I spoke of certain circumstances whichhad prevented my writing earlier. I do not know that I asked her not toseek to know those circumstances; but I ask it now. Will Katy trust meso far as to believe that all is right between us, and never allude tothese circumstances?"

He was kissing her fondly, and his voice was so winning that Katypromised all that was required; and then came the hardest, the trying totell her all, as he had said to his mother he would. Twice he essayed tospeak, 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 ifyou knew my past life you would wish to revoke your recent decision andrender a different verdict to my suit. Suppose I unfold the blackestleaf 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 outmyself. I could not hear anything against you now. I am satisfied totake you as you are. "

Wilford felt his heart throb wildly with the feeling that he was in someway deceiving the young girl; but if she would not suffer him to tellher, he was not to be censured if she remained in ignorance. And so thegolden moment fled, and when he spoke again he said: "If Katy will notnow read that leaf I offered to show her, she must not shrink back inhorror if ever it does meet her eye. "

"I don't, I promise, " Katy answered, a vague feeling of fear creepingover her as to what the reading of that mysterious page involved. Butthis was soon forgotten, as Wilford, remembering his suspicions of Dr. Grant, thought to probe a little by asking if she had ever loved any onebefore himself?

"No, never, " she answered. "I never dreamed of such a thing until I sawyou, Mr. Cameron;" and Wilford believed the trusting girl, whose lovingnature shone in every lineament of her face, upturned to receive thekisses he pressed upon it, resolving within himself to be to her whathe ought to be. 

"By the way, " he continued, "don't call me Mr. Cameron again, as you didjust now. I would rather be your Wilford. It sounds more familiar. Andstill, " he added, "it may be better at present to reserve that name forthe time when we are alone. To your family I may as well remain Mr. Cameron. "

This was an after thought, suggested by his knowing how he should shiverto hear Aunt Betsy call him "Wilford, " as she surely would if Katy did. Then he told her of his projected tour to Europe, and Katy felt herpulses quicken as she thought of London, Paris and Rome, as places whichher plain country eyes might yet look upon. But when it came to theirmarriage, which Wilford said must be soon--within a few weeks--shedemurred, for this arrangement was not in accordance with her desires. She should so much enjoy a long courtship with Wilford coming often toSilverton, and such quantities of letters passing between them as shouldmake her the envy of all Silverton. This was Katy's idea, and sheopposed her lover with all her strength, telling him she was so young, not eighteen till July, and she knew so little of housekeeping. He mustlet 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 howdifferent were her views from his, and tried to explain that the art ofbread-making, though very desirable in most wives, was not an essentialaccomplishment for his. Servants would do that; besides he did notintend to have a house of his own at once; he should take her first tolive with his mother, where she could learn what was necessary muchbetter than there in Silverton. 

Wilford Cameron expected to be obeyed in every important matter by thehappy person who should be his wife, and as he possessed the faculty ofenforcing perfect obedience without seeming to be severe, so he silencedKaty's arguments, and when they left the shadow of the butternut treeshe knew that in all human probability six weeks' time would find her onthe broad ocean alone with Wilford Cameron. So perfect was Katy's faithand love that she had no fear of Wilford now, but as his affianced wifewalked confidently by his side, feeling fully his equal, nor oncedreaming how great the disparity his city friends would discover betweenthe fastidious man of fashion and the unsophisticated country girl. AndWilford did not seek to enlighten her, but suffered her to talk of thedelight it would be to live in New York, and how pleasant for mother andHelen to visit her, especially the latter, who would thus have a chanceto see something of the world. 

"When I get a house of my own I mean she shall live with me all thewhile, " she said, stooping to gather a tuft of wild bluebells growing ina marshy spot. 

Wilford winced a little, for in his estimation Helen Lennox formed nopart of that household to be established on Madison Square, but he wouldnot so soon tear down Katy's castles, and so he merely remarked as sheasked 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 probablybe some time before she will come to us, and she had better not have itin anticipation. "

And so Helen never knew the honor in store for her as she stood in thedoorway anxiously waiting for her sister, who, she feared, would takecold from being out so long. Something though in Katy's face made herguess that to her was lost forever the bright little sister whom sheloved so dearly, and fleeing up the narrow stairway to her room shewept bitterly as she thought of the coming time when she would sharethat room alone, and know that never again would a little golden headlie upon her neck just as it had lain, for there would be a new love, anew interest between them, a love for the man whose voice she could hearnow talking to her mother in the peculiar tone he always assumed whenspeaking to any one of them excepting Morris or Katy. 

"I wish it were not wrong to hate him, " she exclaimed passionately; "itwould be such a relief; but if he is only kind to Katy, I do not carehow much he despises us, " and bathing her face in water Helen sat downby her window, gazing out upon the fresh green earth, where the younggrass was springing, wondering if Mr. Cameron took her sister, when itwould probably be. "Not this year or more, " she said, "for Katy is soyoung;" 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 thegood 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 back thesoft rings clustering around her sister's brow. 

"Crying. Helen! oh, don't. I shall love you just the same, and you arecoming to live with us in the new house on Madison Square, " Katy said, forgetting Wilford's instructions in her desire to comfort Helen, whobroke 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 foreverthe good, patient sister, who had been so true, so kind, treating herlike a petted kitten and standing between her and every hardship. 

"Don't cry, Nellie, " she said, twining her arms around her neck; "NewYork is not far away, and I shall come so often--that is, after wereturn from Europe. Did I tell you we are going there first, and Wilfordwill not wait, but says we must be married the tenth of June; that's hisbirthday--thirty--and he is telling mother now. "

"So soon--oh, Katy! and you so young!" was all Helen could say, as withquivering lip she kissed her sister's hand raised to wipe her tearsaway. 

"Yes, it is soon, and I am young; but Wilford is in such a hurry; hedon't care, " Katy replied, trying to comfort Helen, and begging of hernot to cry so hard. 

No, Wilford did not care, as it would seem, how much he wrung the heartsof Katy's family by taking her from them at once, and by dictating to acertain extent the way in which he would take her. There must be noinvited guests, he said; no lookers-on, except such as chose to go tothe church where the ceremony would, of course, be performed, and fromwhich 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 begenerally discussed in the neighborhood, as he disliked being a subjectfor gossip. And Mrs. Lennox, to whom this was said, promised compliancewith everything, or if she ventured to object she found herself bornedown by a stronger will than her own, and weakly yielded, her mannerfully testifying to her delight at the honor conferred upon her by thishigh marriage of her child. Wilford knew just how pleased she was, andher obsequious manner annoyed him far more than did Helen's blunt, straightforwardness, when, after supper was over, she told him howaverse she was to his taking Katy so soon, adding still further that ifit must be, she saw no harm in inviting a few of their neighbors. It wascustomary--it would be expected, she said, while Mrs. Lennox, emboldenedby Helen's boldness, chimed in, "at least your folks will come; I shallbe glad to meet your mother. "

Wilford was very polite to them both; very good-humored, but he kept tohis first position, and poor Mrs. Lennox saw fade into airy nothingnessall her visions of roasted fowls and frosted cake trimmed with myrtleand flowers, with hosts of the Silverton people there to admire andpartake of the marriage feast. It was too bad, and so Aunt Betty said, when, after Wilford had gone to Linwood, the family sat together aroundthe kitchen stove, talking the matter over. 

"Yes, it was too bad, when there was that white hen turkey she could fatup so easy before June, and she knew how to make 'lection cake thatwould melt in your mouth, and was enough sight better than the blackstuff they called weddin' cake. Vum! she meant to try what she could dowith Mr. Cameron. "

And next morning when he came again she did try, holding out asinducements why he should be married the night before starting forBoston, the "white hen, turkey, the 'lection cake, and the gay old timesthe young folks would have playing snap-and-catchem; or if they had amind, 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 hardit was for him to keep down his utter contempt. She saw it in his eyes, which resembled two smoldering volcanoes as they rested upon Aunt Betsyduring her harangue. 

"Thank you, madam, for your good intentions, but I think we willdispense with the turkey and the cake, " was all he said, though he didsmile at the old lady's definition of dancing, which for once she mightallow. 

Even Morris, when appealed to, decided with Wilford against Mrs. Lennoxand Aunt Betsy, knowing how unequal he was to the task which woulddevolve on him in case of a bridal party at the farmhouse. Incomparative silence he had 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 afeeling of jealousy, it would have disappeared; Morris was so seeminglyindifferent to everything except Katy's happiness. But Wilford did notobserve closely, and failed to detect the hopeless look in Morris' eyes, or the whiteness which settled about his mouth as he fulfilled theduties of host and sought to entertain his guest. Those were dark hoursfor Morris Grant, and he was glad when at the end of the second dayWilford's visit expired, and he saw him driven from Linwood around tothe farmhouse, where he would say his parting words to Katy and then goback 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, andbrought to Helen within a week after Wilford's departure. It was hishandwriting, too; and wondering what he could have written to her, Helenbroke the seal, starting as there dropped into her lap a check for fivehundred dollars. 

"What does it mean?" she said, her cheek flushing with anger andinsulted pride as she read the following brief lines:

"NEW YORK, May 8th. 

"MISS HELEN LENNOX: Please pardon the liberty I take in inclosing the sumof five hundred dollars, to be used by you in procuring whatever Katy mayneed for present necessities. Presuming that the country seamstresseshave not the best facilities for obtaining the latest fashions, my motherproposes sending out her own private dressmaker, Mrs. Ryan. You may lookfor her the last of the week. 

"Yours truly, WILFORD CAMERON. "

It would be impossible to describe Helen's indignation as she read thisletter, which roused her to a pitch of anger such as Wilford Cameron hadnever imagined when he wrote the offensive lines. He had really nointention of insulting her. On the contrary, the gift of money waskindly meant, for he knew very well that Uncle Ephraim was poor, whilethe part referring to the dressmaker was wholly his mother'sproposition, to which he had acceded, knowing how much confidence Junohad in her taste, and that whatever she might see at the farmhouse wouldremain a secret with her, or at most be confined to the ears of hismother and sisters. He wished Katy to look well, and foolishly fancyingthat no country artiste could make her look so, he consented to Mrs. Ryan's going, never suspecting the storm of anger it would rouse inHelen, whose first impulse was to throw the check into the fire. Hersecond, however, was soberer. She would not destroy it, nor tell any oneshe had it but Morris--he should know the whole. Accordingly, without aword to any one, she repaired to Linwood, finding Morris at home, andstartling him with the vehemence of her anger as she explained thenature 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 hershoulder. "Is this the right spirit for one who professes better things?Stop a moment and think. "

"I know it is wrong, " Helen answered, the tears glittering in her eyes;"but somehow since he came after Katy, I have grown so hard, so wickedtoward Mr. Cameron. He seems so proud, so unapproachable. Say, CousinMorris, 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, ina worldly point of view, she is doing well, while Mr. Cameron, Ibelieve, is better than three-fourths of the men who marry our girls. Heis very proud; but that results from his education and training. Lookingonly from a New York standpoint he misjudges country people, but he willappreciate 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'soutfit. I would rather go without clothes my whole life. Shall I send itback?"

"I think that the best disposition to make of it, " Morris replied. "Asyour brother, I can and will supply Katy's needs. "

"I knew you would, Morris. What should we do without you?" and Helensmiled gratefully upon the doctor, who in word and deed was to her likea dear brother. "And I'll send it to-day, in time to keep that dreadfulMrs. Ryan from coming; for, Morris, I won't have any of WilfordCameron's dressmakers in the house. "

Morris could not help smiling at Helen's energetic manner as shehurried to his library and taking his pen wrote to Wilford Cameron asfollows:

"SILVERTON, May 9th. 

"Mr. WILFORD CAMERON: I give you credit for the kindest of motives insending the check, which I now return to you, with my compliments. We arenot as poor as you suppose, and would almost deem it sacrilege to letanother than ourselves provide for Katy so long as she is ours. Andfurthermore, that Mrs. Ryan's services will not be needed, so it is notworth her while to make a journey here for nothing. Yours, "HELEN LENNOX. "

Helen felt better after this letter had gone, wondering often how itwould 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 wedid not know anything!" and Helen's lip curled scornfully as she thusdenounced the Ryan woman, whose trunk was all packed with paper patternsand devices of various kinds when the letter arrived saying she was notneeded. Being a woman of few words, she quietly unpacked her patternsand went back to the work she was engaged upon when Mrs. Cameronproposed her going into the country. Juno, on the contrary, flew into aviolent passion to think their first friendly advances should be thusreceived. Bell laughed immoderately, saying she rather liked HelenLennox's spirit, and almost wished her brother had chosen her instead ofthe other, who, she presumed, was a milk and water thing, even if Mrs. Woodhull did extol her so highly. Mrs. Cameron felt the rebuff 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 divisionbetween his wife and her family so tightly that the sister could neverpass over it. She had received the news of her son's engagement withoutopposition, for she knew the time for that was passed. Wilford wouldmarry Katy Lennox, and she must make the best of it, so she offered noword of remonstrance, but, when they were alone, she said to him: "Didyou 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 themout herself. Away from her it is very easy to think what I will do, butwhen the trial comes I find it hard, we have kept it so long; but Ishall tell her yet; not till after we are married though, and I havemade 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 veryevident that he and his mother looked at it differently, he regarding itas a duty he owed to Katy not to conceal from her what might possiblyinfluence her decision, while his mother only wished the secret told inhopes that it would prevent the marriage; but now that Wilford haddeferred it till after the marriage, she saw no reason why it need betold at all. At least Wilford could do as he thought best, and shechanged the conversation from Genevra to Helen's letter, which had soupset her plans. That her future daughter-in-law was handsome she didnot doubt, for Wilford said so, and Mrs. Woodhull said so in her letterof congratulation; but she, of course, had no manner, no style, and as ameans of improving her in the latter respect, and making her presentableat the altar and in Boston, she had proposed sending out Ryan, as shewas called in the family; but that project had failed, and Helen Lennoxdid not stand very high in the Cameron family, though Wilford in hisheart 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 thatafternoon, when talking with them upon the subject. "Wilford tells meKaty and Bell are about the same size and figure, and Ryan shall make upa traveling suit proper for the occasion. Of course there will be no oneat the wedding for whom we care, but in Boston, at the Revere, it willbe different. Cousin Harvey boards there, and she is very stylish. I sawsome elegant gray poplins, of the finest luster, at Stewarts yesterday. Suppose we drive down this afternoon. "

This was said to Juno as the more fashionable one of the sisters, butBell answered quickly: "Poplin, mother, on Katy? It will not become herstyle, I am sure, though suitable for many. If I am to be fitted I shallsay a word about the fabric. Get a little checked silk, as expensive asyou like. It will suit her better than a heavy poplin. "

Perhaps Bell was right, Mrs. Cameron said; they would look at both, andas the result of this looking, two dresses, one of the finest poplin, and one of the softest, richest, plaided silk were given the next dayinto Mrs. Ryan's hands, with injunctions to spare no pains or expense intrimming and making both. And so the dressmaking for Katy's bridal wasproceeding in New York, in spite of Helen's letter; while down inSilverton, at the farmhouse, there were numerous consultations as towhat was proper and what was not, Helen sometimes almost wishing she hadthrown off her pride and suffered Mrs. Ryan to come. Katy would lookwell in anything, but Helen knew there were certain styles preferable toothers, and in a maze of perplexity she consulted with this and thatindividual, until all Silverton knew what was projected, each oneoffering the benefit of her advice until Helen and Katy both were nearlydistracted. Aunt Betsy suggested a blue delaine and round cape, offeringto get it herself, and actually purchasing the material with her ownfunds, saved from drying apples. That would answer for one dress, Helensaid, but not for the wedding; and she was becoming more and moreundecided, when Morris came to the rescue, telling Katy of a young womanwho had for some time past been his patient, but who was now nearly welland anxious to obtain work again. She had evidently seen better days, hesaid; was very ladylike in her manner, and possessed of a great deal oftaste, he imagined; besides that, she had worked in one of the largestshops in New York. "As I am going this afternoon over to NorthSilverton, " he added, in conclusion, "and shall pass Miss Hazelton'shouse, you or Helen might accompany me and see for yourself. "

It was decided that Helen should go, and about four o'clock she foundherself ringing at the cottage over whose door hung the sign: "Miss M. Hazelton, Fashionable Dressmaker. " She was at home, so said the littleslipshod girl who answered the ring, and in a few moments Helen wastalking with Marian Hazelton, whose face showed signs of recent illness, but, nevertheless, very attractive, from its peculiarly sad expressionand the soft liquid eyes of dark blue, which looked as if they were notstrangers to tears. At twenty she must have been strikingly beautiful;and even now, at thirty, few ladies could have vied with her had shepossessed the means for gratifying her taste and studying her style. About the mouth, so perfect in repose, there was when she spoke asingularly 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 were--" Helen paused here, for thoughMarian Hazelton's dress indicated poverty, the words "were wanting work"seemed at variance with her whole being, and so she changed her form ofspeech, and said instead: "Told me you could make dresses, and I drovearound with him to secure your services, if possible, for my sister, whois soon to be married. We would like it so much if you could go to ourhouse instead of having Katy come here. "

Marian Hazelton was needing work, for there was due more than threemonths' board, besides the doctor's bill, and so, though it was nother custom to go from house to house, she would, in this instance, accommodate Miss Lennox, especially as during her illness her customershad many of them gone elsewhere, and her little shop was nearly brokenup. "Was it an elaborate trousseau she was expected to make?" and shebent down to turn over some fashion plates lying upon the table. 

"Oh, no! we are plain country people. We cannot afford as much for Katyas we would like; besides, I dare say Mr. Cameron will prefer selectingmost 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 Iunderstand that the gentleman's name was Cameron?"

"Yes, Wilford Cameron, from New York, " Helen answered, holding up herskirts 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 inher efforts to frighten her tormentor she did not look again at MissHazelton until startled by a gasping cry and heavy fall. Marian hadfainted, and Helen was just raising her head from the floor to her lapwhen Morris appeared, relieving her of her burden, of whom he tookcharge until she showed signs of life. In her alarm Helen forgotentirely what they were talking about when the faint came on, and herfirst question put to Marian was: "Were you taken suddenly ill? Why didyou faint?"

There was no answer at first, except tears, which quivered on the longeyelashes, and then rolled down the cheeks; but when she did speak shesaid: "I am still so weak that the least exertion affects me, and I wasbending over the table; it will soon pass off. "

If she was so weak, she was not able to work, Helen said, proposing thatthe plan be for the present abandoned; but to this Marian would notlisten; her great eager eyes had in them so scared a look that Helensaid no more on that subject, but made arrangements for her coming tothem at once. Morris was to leave his patient some medicine, and whilehe was preparing it Helen had time to notice her more carefully, admiring her ladylike manners, and thinking her smile the sweetest shehad ever seen. Especially was this the case when it was given to Morris, and Helen felt that in his presence Miss Hazelton was, if possible, softer, sweeter, more gracious than before; and still there was nothingimmodest or unwomanly in her manner, nothing but that peculiar air whichattractive women sometimes put on before the other sex. She might nothave been conscious of it herself; and yet, when once she met Helen'seyes as she was smiling gratefully upon Dr. Morris, there came a suddenchange into her face, and she bit her lip with evident vexation. Couldit be that she was fascinated by the young physician who had attendedher so long, and who, within the last few months, had grown so popular?Helen asked herself this question several times on her way home, andinquired of Morris what he knew of her. 

"Nothing, except that she came to North Silverton a year ago, openingher shop, and by her faithfulness, and pleasant, obliging manners, winning favor with all who employed her. Previous to her sickness shehad a few times attended St. Paul's at South Silverton, that being thechurch of her choice. Had Helen never observed her?"

No, Helen had not. And then she spoke of her fainting, telling howsudden it was and wondering if she was subject to such turns. MarianHazelton had made a strong impression on Helen's mind, and she talkedof her so much that Katy waited her appearance at the farmhouse withfeverish anxiety. It was evening when she came, looking very white, andseeming to Helen as if she had changed since she saw her first. In hereyes there was a kind of hopeless, weary expression, while her smilemade one almost wish to cry, it was so sad, and yet so strangely sweet. Katy felt its influence at once, growing very confidential with thestranger, who, during the half hour in which they were accidentally leftalone, drew from her every particular concerning her intended marriage. Very closely the dark blue eyes scrutinized little Katy, taking in firstthe faultless beauty of her face, and then going away down into theinmost depths of her character, as if to find out what was there. 

"Pure, loving, innocent, and unsuspecting, " was Marian Hazelton'sverdict, and she followed wistfully every movement of the young girl asshe flitted around the room, chatting as familiarly with the dressmakeras if she were a friend long known instead of an entire stranger. 

"You look very young to be married, " said Miss Hazelton to her once, andshaking back her short rings of hair Katy answered: "Eighteen nextFourth of July; but Mr. Cameron is thirty. "

"Is he a widower?" was the next question, which Katy answered with amerry laugh. "Mercy, no! I marry a widower! How funny! I don't believehe ever cared a fig for anybody but me. I mean to ask him. "

"I would, " and the pale lips shut tightly together, while a resentfulgleam shot for a moment across Marian's face; but it quickly passedaway, and her smile was as sweet as ever as she at last bade the familygood-night and repaired to the little room where Wilford Cameron oncehad slept. 

A long time she stood before the glass, brushing her dark, abundanthair, and intently regarding her own features, while in her eyes therewas a hard, terrible look, from which Katy Lennox would have shrunkabashed. But that too passed, and the eyes grew soft with tears as sheturned away, and falling on her knees moaned sadly: "I never will--no, Inever will, God help me to keep the promise. Were it the other--Helen--Imight, 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 herheart a prayer for Katy Lennox's happiness, as fervent and sincere asany which had ever been made for her since she was betrothed. 

They grew to liking each other rapidly, Marian and Katy, the latter ofwhom thought her new friend greatly out of place as a dressmaker, telling her she ought to marry some rich man, calling her Marianaltogether, and questioning her very closely of her previous life. ButMarian only told her that she was born in London; that she learned hertrade on the Isle of Wight, near to the Osborne House, where the royalfamily sometimes came, and that she had often seen the present Queen, thus trying to divert Katy's mind from asking what there was besidesthat apprenticeship to the Misses True on the Isle of Wight. Once, indeed, she went further, learning that Marian's friends were dead; thatshe 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 thenhad tried what country air would do, coming to North Silverton becausea young woman who worked in the same shop was acquainted there, andrecommended the place. This was all Katy could learn, and Marian's hearthistory, if she had one, was guarded carefully. One day as they sattogether alone, when Helen had gone to the village to do some shoppingfor Katy, Marian abruptly said: "I have lived in New York, you know, and why do you not ask if I ever saw these Camerons?"

"You! did you?--have you, really?--and what are they like?" Katy almostscreamed, skipping across the floor and seating herself by Marian, whoreplied: "Much like other ladies of their stamp--proud and fashionable. The father I never saw, but your Mr. Cameron I used to see in the streetdriving his handsome bays. "

Anything relating to the pride and fashion of her future relations madeKaty uncomfortable, and she remained silent, cutting into bits a pieceof silk, until Marian continued: "Sometimes there was a child in theCameron carriage. Do you know who it was?"

Delighted that she too could impart information, Katy hastened to saythat it was probably "little Jamie, the orphan grandchild, whose parentsdied in Italy. Morris told me he met them in Paris, and he said Jamie'sfather died of consumption, and the mother, too, either then orafterward. At all events Jamie is an orphan and a cripple. He will neverwalk, Morris says; and he told me so much about him--how patient he wasand how good. "

Katy did not see the tears which threatened to mar the silk on whichMarian Hazelton was working, for they were brushed away almost asquickly as they came, while in her usual voice she asked: "What was thecause of his lameness?"

"I don't know just how it happened, " Katy replied, "but believe itresulted from the carelessness of a servant in leaving him alone, orsomething. "

"A servant!" Marian repeated, a flush rising to her cheek and a strangelight flashing on her eye. 

She had heard all she cared to hear of the Camerons that day, andshe was glad when Helen returned from the village, as her appearancediverted Katy's mind into another channel, and in examining the dresstrimmings which Helen had brought, she forgot to talk of Jamie Cameron. The trimmings, fringe and buttons were for the wedding dress, the one inwhich Katy was to be married, and which Helen reserved the right to maketo herself. Miss Hazelton must fit it, of course, but to her belongedthe privilege of making it, every stitch; Katy would think more of it ifshe did it all, she said; but she did not confess how the bending overthat one dress, both early and late, was the escape valve for thefeeling which otherwise would have found vent in passionate tears. Helenwas very wretched during the pleasant May days she usually enjoyed somuch, but over which now a dark pall was spread, shutting out all thebrightness and leaving only the terrible certainty that Katy was lost toher forever--bright, frolicsome Katy, who, without a shadow on her heartsported amid the bridal finery, unmindful of the anguish tugging at thehearts of both the patient women, Marian and Helen, who worked on sosilently, reserving their tears for the night time, when Katy laysweetly sleeping and dreaming of Wilford Cameron. Helen had ceased tothink that Hiss Hazelton had any designs on Dr. Grant, for her mannertoward Uncle Ephraim was just as soft and conciliating, and shedismissed that subject from her mind with the reflection that it was thenature of some girls to be very pretty to the gentlemen, without meaningany harm. She liked Marian on the whole, regarding her as a quiet woman, who knew her business and kept to it, but never guessing that herfeelings, too, were stirred to their very depths as the bridalpreparations progressed. She only knew how wretched she was herself, andhow hard it was to fight her tears back as she bent over the plaidedsilk, weaving in with every stitch a part of the clinging love whicheach day grew stronger for the only sister, who would soon be gone, leaving her alone. Only once did she break entirely down, and that waswhen the dress was done and Katy tried it on, admiring its effect, andhaving a second glass brought that she might see it behind. 

"Isn't it lovely?" she exclaimed; "and the more valuable because youmade it, I shall think of you every time I wear it, " and the impulsivegirl found her arms around Helen's neck, kissing her lovingly, whileHelen sank into a chair and sobbed aloud: "Oh, Katy, darling Katy! youwon'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 howdesolate 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 tocomfort by telling her how she should come back, come often, too, staying a long while; and that when she had a city home of her ownshe should live with her for good, and they would be so happy. 

"I cannot quite give Wilford up to please you, " she said, when thatgigantic sacrifice suggested itself as something which it was possibleHelen might require of her; "but I will do anything else, only pleasedon'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 hersister's face. 

After that Helen did not cry again in Katy's presence, but the latterknew she wanted to and it made her rather sad, particularly when she sawreflected in the faces of the other members of the family the grief shehad witnessed in Helen. Even Uncle Ephraim was not as cheerful as usual, and once when Katy came upon him in the woodshed chamber, where he wasshelling corn, she found him resting from his work and looking from thewindow far off across the hills, with a look which made her guess he wasthinking of her, and stealing up beside him she laid her hand upon hiswrinkled face, whispering softly: "Poor Uncle Eph, are you sorry, too?"

He knew what she meant, and the aged chin quivered, while a big teardropped into the tub of corn, as he replied: "Yes, Katy-did--verysorry. "

That was all he said, and Katy, after smoothing his cheek a momentkissed his silvery hair and then stole away, wondering if every girl'sfamily felt so badly before she was married, and wondering next if thelove to which she was going was equal to the love of home, which, as thedays went by, grew stronger and stronger, enfolding her in a mightyembrace, which could only be severed by bitter tears and fierceheart-pangs, such as death itself sometimes brings. In that householdthere 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 herdaughter. But among them all Morris suffered most, and suffered morebecause he had to endure in secret, to cover up his sorrow so that noone guessed the pain it was for him to go each day where Katy was, andwatch her as she sometimes donned a part of her finery for his benefit, asking him once if he did not almost wish he were in Wilford's place, soas to have as pretty a bride as she should make. Then Marian Hazeltonglanced up in time to see the expression of his face, a look whosemeaning she readily recognized, and when Dr. Grant left the farmhousethat day, another than himself knew of his love for Katy, drawing herbreath hurriedly as she thought of taking back the words "I never will, "of revoking the decision and telling Katy what Wilford Cameron shouldhave told her long before. But the wild wish fled, and Wilford's secretwas safe, while Marian watched Morris Grant with a pitying interest ashe came among them, speaking always in the same kind, gentle tone, andtrying so hard to enter into Katy's joy. 

"His burden is greater than mine. God help us both, " Marian said, as sheresumed her work. 

And so amid joy and gladness, silent tears and breaking hearts thepreparations went on until all was done, and only three days remainedbefore the eventful tenth. Marian Hazelton was going home, for she wouldnot stay at the farmhouse until all was over, notwithstanding Katy'sentreaties, joined to those of Helen. 

"Perhaps she would come to the church, " she said, "though she could notpromise;" and her manner was so strange as she gathered up her thingsthat Katy wondered if in any way she could have been offended, and atlast said to her timidly, as she stood with her bonnet on waiting forUncle 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; Icould not be angry with you, and yet, Katy Lennox, some in my positionwould 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 yourhusband; honor him, obey him if need be, and above all, never give himthe slightest cause to doubt you. You will have admirers, Katy Lennox. In New York others than your husband will speak to you words offlattery, 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 withdrawnthere were great tears there which she had left! Marian's tears onKaty's brow; and truly, it was very meet that just before her bridal dayWilford Cameron's bride should receive such baptism from MarianHazelton. 

CHAPTER IX. 

BEFORE THE MARRIAGE. 

On the morning of the ninth day of June, 18--, Wilford Cameron stood inhis father's parlor, surrounded by the entire family, who, after theirusually early breakfast, had assembled to bid him good-by, for Wilfordwas going for his bride, and it would be months, if not a year, ere hereturned to them again. They had given him up to his idol, asking onlythat none of the idol's family should be permitted to cross theirthreshold, and also that the idol should not often be allowed theprivilege of returning to the place from whence she came. Theserestrictions had emanated from the female portion of the Cameron family, the mother, Juno and Bell. The father, on the contrary, had swornroundly as he would sometimes swear at what he called the contemptiblepride of his wife and daughters. Katy was sure of a place in his heartjust because of the pride which was building up so high a wall betweenher 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'ssake, go to cramming her with airs and nonsense which she does notunderstand. 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-sized box containing a most exquisite set of pearls, such as he fancied would be becoming to the soft, girlish beauty Wilfordhad described. Something in his father's manner touched Wilford closely, making him resolve anew that if Kitty were not happy as Mrs. Cameron itshould 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 thebride, Bell hoping she would look as well in the poplin and little plaidas she had done. Either was suitable for the wedding day, Mrs. Cameronsaid, and she might take her choice, only Wilford must see that she didnot 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 confusedmedley of poplins and plaids, belts and gloves, pearls and Katy, Wilfordfinally tore himself away, and at three o'clock that afternoon drovethrough Silverton village, past the little church which the Silvertonmaidens were decorating with flowers, pausing a moment in their work tolook at him as he went by. Among them was Marian Hazelton, but she didnot look up, she only bent lower over her work, thus hiding the tearwhich dropped from the delicate buds she was fashioning into the words, "Joy to the Bride, " intending the whole as the center of the wreath tobe placed over the altar just where all could see it. 

"The handsomest man I ever saw, " was the verdict of most of the girls asthey came hack to their work, while Wilford drove on to the farmhousewhere Katy had been so anxiously watching for him. 

When he came in sight, however, and she knew he was actually there, sheran away to hide her blushes and the feeling of awe which had comesuddenly over her for the man who was to be her husband. But Helen badeher go back, and so she went coyly in to Wilford, who met her withloving caresses, and then put upon her finger the superb diamond whichhe said he had thought to send as a pledge of their engagement, but hadfinally concluded to wait and present himself. Katy had heard much ofdiamonds, and seen some in Canandaigua; but the idea that she, plainKaty Lennox, would ever wear them, had never once entered her mind; andnow as she looked at the brilliant gem sparkling upon her hand, she felta thrill of something more than joy at that good fortune which hadbrought her to diamonds. Vanity, we suppose it was--such vanity as wasvery natural in her case, and she thought she should never tire oflooking at the precious stone; but when Wilford showed her next theplain broad band of gold, and tried it on her third finger, asking ifshe knew what it meant, the true woman spoke within her, and sheanswered, tearfully:

"Yes, I know, and I will try to prove worthy of what I shall be to youwhen I wear that ring for good. "

Katy was very quiet for a moment as she sat with her head nestledagainst Wilford's bosom, but when he observed that she was lookingtired, and asked if she had been working hard, the quiet fit was broken, and she told him of the dress "we had made, " that "we" referring solelyto Helen and Marian, for Katy had hardly done a thing. But it did notmatter; she fancied she had, and she asked if he did not wish to see herdresses. Wilford knew it would please Katy, and so, though he cared verylittle about it, he followed her into the adjoining room where they werestill spread out upon the tables and chairs, with Helen in their midst, ready to pack them away. Wilford thought of Mrs. Ryan and the check, buthe shook hands with Helen very civilly, saying to her, playfully:

"I suppose that you are willing I should take your sister with me thistime. "

Helen could not answer, but turned away to hide her face, while Katyshowed to her lover one dress after another, until she came to thelittle plaid, which, with a bright blush she told him "was the verything itself--the one intended for to-morrow, and asked if he did notlike it. "

Wilford could not help telling her yes, for he knew she wished him to doso, but in his heart he was thinking bad thoughts against the wardrobeof his bride-elect--thoughts which would have won for him the title ofhen-huzzy from Helen, could she have known them. And yet Wilford did notdeserve that name. Accustomed all his life to hearing dress discussed inhis mother's parlor, and in his sister's boudoir, it was natural heshould think more of it and notice it more than Morris Grant would do, while for the last five weeks he had heard at home of little else thanthe probably _tout ensemble_ of Katy's wardrobe, bought and made in thecountry, his mother deciding finally to write to her cousin, Mrs. Harvey, who boarded at the Revere, and have her see it before Katy leftthe city. Under these circumstances, it was not strange that Wilford didnot enter into Katy's delight, even after she told him how Helen hadmade every stitch of the dress herself, and that it would on thataccount be very dear to her. This was a favorable time for getting thepoplin off his mind, and with a premonitory ahem, he said: "Yes, it isvery nice, no doubt; but, " and here he turned to Helen, "after Mrs. Ryan's services were declined, my mother determined to have two dressesfitted to Sister Bell, who I think is just Katy's size and figure. Ineed not say"--and his eyes still rested on Helen, who gave him back anunflinching glance--"I need not say that no pains have been spared tomake these garments everything they should be in point of quality andstyle. I have them in my trunk, " and, tuning now to Katy, "it is mymother's special request that one of them be worn to-morrow. You couldtake your choice, she said--either was suitable. I will bring them foryour inspection. "

He left the room, while Helen's face resembled a dark thundercloud, whose lightnings shone in her flashing eyes as she looked after him andthen back to where Katy stood, bewildered and wondering what was wrong. 

"Who is Mrs. Ryan?" she asked. "What does he mean?" but before Helencould 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 thesoft lustrous silk, while even Helen acknowledged that there was aboutthem a finish which threw Miss Hazelton's quite in the shade. 

"Beautiful!" Katy exclaimed; "and trimmed so exquisitely! I do so hopethey will fit!"

"I dare say they will, " Wilford replied, enjoying her appreciation ofhis mother's gift. "At all events they will answer for to-morrow, andany 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?" andKaty appealed to her sister, who could endure no more, but hid her headamong the pillows of the bed and cried. 

Katy understood the whole, and dropping upon the floor the silk towhich she inclined the most, she flew to Helen's side, and whispered toher: "Don't, Nellie, right before Wilford. I won't wear either of them. I'll wear the one you made. It was mean and vain in me to think of doingotherwise. "

During this scene Wilford had stolen from the room, and with him goneHelen was herself, capable of judging candidly and sensibly. She knewthe city silk, which cost three dollars per yard, and was fastened withbuttons of gold, having Katy's initial upon their face, was handsomerand better suited for Wilford Cameron's bride than the country plaid, costing one dollar per yard, and trimmed with buttons at eighteen penceper dozen, and so she said to Katy: "I would rather you should wear theone they sent. It will become you better. Suppose you try it on, " and inseeking to gratify her sister Helen forgot in part her own crueldisappointment, and that her work of days had been for naught. The dressfitted well, though Katy pronounced it too tight and too long. A fewmoments, however, accustomed her to the length, and then her mother, Aunt Hannah, and Aunt Betsy came to see and admire, while Katy proposedgoing 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 Catherinecould be so free and easy with that man when just the sight of him wasenough to take away a body's breath. "

"More free and easy than she will be by and by, " was Helen's mentalcomment as she proceeded quietly to pack the trunk which Morris hadbrought for the voyage across the sea, dropping into it many a tear asshe folded away one article after another, and wondered under whatcircumstances she should see them again if she saw them ever. 

Helen was a Christian girl, and many a time had she prayed in secretthat He who rules the deep would keep its waters calm and still whileher sister was upon them, and she prayed so now, constantly, burying herface once in her hands, and asking that Katy might come back to themunchanged, if possible, and asking next that God would remove from herheart all bitterness toward the bridegroom, who was to be her brother, and whom, after that short, earnest prayer, she found herself likingbetter. 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 thatnight, the last she would spend with them for a long, long time. ButWilford kept her with him in the parlor, kissing away the tears whichflowed so fast when she recalled the prayer said that night by UncleEphraim, with her kneeling by him as she might never kneel again. He hadcalled her by her name and his voice was very sad as he commended her toGod, asking that he would "be with our little Katy wherever she mightgo, keeping her in all the mewandering scenes of life, and bringing herat last to his own heavenly home. "

Wilford himself was touched, and though he noticed the deacon'spronunciation, he did not even smile, and his manner was veryrespectful, when after the prayer over and they were alone, thewhite-haired deacon felt it incumbent upon him to say a few wordsconcerning Katy. 

"She's a young, rattle-headed creature, not much like your own kin, Iguess; but, young man, she is as dear as the apple of our eyes, and Icharge you to treat her well. She has never had a crossways word spoketo her all her life, and don't you be the first to speak it, nor letyour folks browbeat her. "

As they were alone, and it was easier for Wilford to be humble andconciliatory, he promised all the old man required, and then went backto Katy, going into raptures over the beautiful little Geneva watchwhich Morris had just sent over as her bridal gift from him. Even Mrs. Cameron herself could have found no fault with this, and Wilford praisedit as much as Katy could desire, noticing the inscription: "Katy, fromCousin Morris, June 10th, 18--, " wishing that after the "Katy" had comethe 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, andKaty's tears dropped upon the pale, soft pearls as she whispered: "Ishall 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 familygathering around and sharing in her joy began to realize how great alady their Katy was to be. It was late that night ere anybody slept, ifsleep at all they did, which was doubtful, unless it were the bride, whowith Wilford's kisses warm upon her lips, crept up to bed just as theclock was striking twelve, nor woke until it was again chiming for six, and over her Helen bent, a dark ring about her eyes and her face verywhite 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, andthe church was literally jammed for full three-quarters of an hourbefore the appointed time. Back by the door, where she commanded a fullview of the middle aisle, Marian Hazelton sat, her face as white asashes, and her eyes gleaming strangely wild even from beneath thethickly dotted veil she wore over her hat. Doubts as to her wisdom incoming there were agitating her mind, but something kept her sittingjust as others sat waiting for the bride until the sexton, opening widethe doors, and assuming an added air of consequence, told the anxiousspectators that the party had arrived--Uncle Ephraim and Katy, Wilfordand Mrs. Lennox, Dr. Morris and Helen, Aunt Hannah and Aunt Betsy--thatwas all, and they came slowly up the aisle, while countless eyes wereturned upon them, every woman noticing Katy's dress sweeping the carpetwith so long a trail, and knowing by some queer female instinct that itwas city-made, and not the handiwork of Marian Hazelton, panting forbreath in that pew near the door, and trying to forget herself bywatching Dr. Grant. She could not have told what Katy wore; she wouldnot have sworn that Katy was there, for she saw only two, Wilford andMorris Grant. She could have touched the former as he passed her by, andshe did breathe the odor of his garments while her hands clasped eachother tightly, and then she turned to Morris Grant, growing content withher own pain, so much less than his as he stood before the altar withWilford 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 voicerang 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 whichAunt Betsy denounced as a "'Piscopal quirk, " classing it in the samecategory with dancing. Still if Ephraim had got it to do she wanted himto do it well, and she had taken some pains to study that part of theceremony, so as to know when to nudge her brother in case he failed ofcoming 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 Ephraimdid not need her prompting, and his hand rested lovingly upon Katy'sshoulder as he signified his consent, and then fell back to his placenext to Hannah. But when Wilford's voice said: "I, Wilford, take theeKaty 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 around, the audience saw the sexton leading Marian Hazelton outinto the open air, where, at her request, he left her, and went hack tosee the closing of the ceremony which made Katy Lennox a wife. Morris'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-byto others, her diamond flashing in the light and her rich silk rustlingas she walked, while at her side was Wilford, proudly erect, and holdinghis head so high as not to see one of the crowd around him, untilarrived at the vestibule he stopped a moment and was seized by a youngman with curling hair, saucy eyes, and that air of ease and assurancewhich betokens high breeding and wealth. 

"Mark Ray!" was Wilford's astonished exclamation, while Mark Rayreplied:

"You did not expect to see me here, neither did I expect to come untillast night, when I found myself in the little village where you knowScranton lives. Then it occurred to me that as Silverton was only a fewmiles distant I would drive over and surprise you, but I am too late forthe ceremony, I see, " and Mark's eyes rested admiringly upon Katy, whosegraceful beauty was fully equal to what he had imagined. 

Very modestly she received his congratulatory greeting, blushingprettily 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 muchastonished at meeting Mark as Wilford had been. There was no time forconversation, and hurriedly introducing Helen as Miss Lennox, Morrisfollowed her into the carriage with the bridal pair, and was driven tothe depot, where they were joined by Mark, whose pleasant, good-humoredsallies did much toward making the parting more cheerful than it wouldotherwise have been. It was sad enough at the most, and Katy's eyes werevery red, while Wilford was beginning to look chagrined and impatient, when at last the train swept around the corner and the very last good-bywas said. Many of the village people were there to see Katy off, and inthe crowd Mark had no means of distinguishing the Barlows from theothers except it were by the fond caresses given to the bride. AuntBetsy he had observed from all the rest, both from the hanging of herpongee and the general quaintness of her attire, and thinking it justpossible that it might be the lady of herrin' bone memory, he touchedWilford'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 Katyfrom the crowd of plebeians who had seized upon her to hear his friend'squery, 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 hisstupidity in not observing who was near to him before asking personalquestions. 

With a toss of her head Helen turned away, forgetting her resentmentin the more absorbing thought that Katy was really leaving her. 

The bell had rung, the heavy machinery groaned and creaked, and the longtrain was under way, while from an open window a little white hand wasthrust, waving its handkerchief until the husband quietly drew it in, experiencing a feeling of relief that all was over, and that unless hechose, his wife need never go back again to that vulgar crowd standingupon the platform and looking with tearful eyes and aching hearts afterthe fast receding train. 

For a moment Mark talked with Morris Grant, explaining how he camethere, and adding that on the morrow he, too, intended going on toBoston, to remain for a few days before Wilford sailed; then, feelingthat he must in some way atone for his awkward speech regarding AuntBetsy, he sought out Helen, still standing like a statue and watchingthe feathery line of smoke rising above the distant trees. Her bonnethad partially fallen from her head, revealing her bands of rich brownhair and the smooth, broad forehead, while her hands were lockedtogether, and a tear trembled on her dark eyelashes. Taken as a wholeshe made a striking picture standing apart from the rest and totallyoblivious to them all, and Mark gazed at her a moment curiously; then asher attitude changed and she drew her hat back to its place he advancedtoward her, and making some pleasant remark about the morning and theappearance of the country generally. He knew he could not openlyapologize, but he made what amends he could by talking to her sofamiliarly that Helen almost forgot how she hated him and all others wholike him lived in New York and resembled Wilford Cameron. It was Markwho led her to the carriage which Morris said was waiting, Mark whohanded her in, smoothing down carefully the folds of her dress, and thenstood leaning against the door, chatting with Morris, who thought onceof asking him to enter and go back to Linwood. But when he rememberedhow unequal he was to entertaining any one that day, he hesitated, saying merely:

"On your way from Boston call and see me. I shall be glad of yourcompany then. "

"Which means that you do not wish it now, " Mark laughingly rejoined, as, offering his hand to both Morris and Helen, he again touched his hatpolitely and walked away. 

CHAPTER XI. 

AFTER THE MARRIAGE. 

"Why did you invite him to Linwood?" Helen began. "I am sure we havehad city guests enough. Oh, if Wilford Cameron had only never come, weshould have had Katy now, " and the sister-love overcame every otherfeeling, making Helen cry bitterly as they drove back to the farmhouse. 

Morris could not comfort her then, for he needed it the most, and so insilence he left her and went on his way to Linwood, which seemed as if afuneral train had left it, bearing away all Morris' life and love, andleaving only a cheerless blank. It was well for him that there were manysick ones on his list, for in attending to them he forgot himself inpart so that the day with him passed faster than at the farmhouse, wherelife and its interests seemed suddenly to have stopped. Nothing hadpower to rouse Helen, who never realized how much she loved her youngsister until now, when, with swelling heart she listlessly put to rightsthe room which had been theirs so long, but which was now hers alone. Itwas a sad task picking up that disordered chamber bearing so many tracesof Katy, and Helen's heart ached terribly as she hung away the littlepink calico dressing gown in which Katy had looked so pretty, and pickedup from the floor the pile of skirts lying just where they had been leftthe previous night; but when it came to the little half-worn slipperswhich had been thrown one here and another there as Katy danced out ofthem, she could control herself no longer, and stopping in her worksobbed bitterly: "Oh, Katy, Katy, how can I live without you?" But tearscould not bring Katy back, and knowing this, Helen dried her eyes erelong and joined the family below, who like herself were spiritless andsad. 

It was some little solace to them all that day to follow Katy in herjourney, saying, she is at Worcester, or Framingham, or Newtown, andwhen at noon they sat down to their dinner in the tidy kitchen, theysaid: "She is in Boston, " and the saying so made the time which hadelapsed since the morning seem interminable. Slowly the hours dragged, and at last, before the sunsetting, Helen, who could bear the lonelinessof home no longer, stole across the fields to Linwood, hoping in Morris'companionship to forget her own grief in part. But Morris was a sorrycomforter then. If the day had been sad to Helen, it had been doubly soto him. He had ministered as usual to his patients, listening to theircomplaints and answering patiently their inquiries; but amid it all hewalked as in a maze, hearing nothing except the words: "I, Katy, takethee, Wilford, to be my wedded husband, " and seeing nothing but the airylittle figure which stood up on tiptoe for him to kiss its lips atparting. His work for the day was over now, and he sat alone in hislibrary when Helen came hurriedly in, staring at sight of his face, andasking 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 thefarmhouse?" he asked, and then Helen broke out afresh, mourningsometimes for Katy, and again denouncing Wilford as proud and heartless. 

"Positively, Cousin Morris, " and Helen's eye flashed as she said it, "heacted all the while he was in the church as if he were doing somethingof which he was ashamed; and then did you notice how impatient he seemedwhen the neighbors were shaking hands with Katy at the depot and biddingher good-by? 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 heeven hurried her away before Aunt Betsy had time to kiss her. And yetthe people think it such a splendid match for Katy, because he is sorich 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, as well as you, but somehow I find myself taking real comfortin 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 toher, inadvertently: "If I can forgive Wilford Cameron for marrying ourKaty, you surely ought to do so, for he has hurt me the most. "

"You, Morris! you, you!" Helen kept repeating, standing back stillfurther and further front him, while strange, overwhelming thoughtspassed 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 withan impetuous rush Helen knelt beside him, as, laying his head upon thetable he answered:

"Yes, Helen. God forgive me if it were wrong. I did love your SisterKaty, and love her yet, and that is the hardest to bear. "

All the tender, pitying woman was roused in Helen, and like a sister shesmoothed the locks of damp, dark hair, keeping a perfect silence as thestrong man, no longer able to bear up, wept like a very child. For atime Helen felt as if bereft of reason, while earth and sky seemedblended in one wild chaos as she thought: "Oh, why couldn't it havebeen? 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 neverguessed it, never! If she had--if she had, " Helen's breath camechokingly: "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 hissorrow as he answered Helen: "I doubt if you are right; I hope you arenot; hope that it might not have been, as it is not now. Katy loved meas her brother, nothing more, I am confident. Had she waited till shewas older, God only knows what might have been, but now she is gone andour Father will help me to bear, will help us both, if we ask him, as wemust. "

And then as only he could do, Morris talked with Helen until she felther hardness toward Wilford giving way, while she wondered how Morriscould speak thus kindly of one who was his rival. 

"Not of myself could I do it, " Morris said; "but I trust in One whosays: 'As thy day shall thy strength be, ' and He, you know, neverfails. "

There was a fresh bond of sympathy now between Morris and Helen, and thelatter needed no caution against repeating what she had discovered. Thesecret was safe with her, and by dwelling on what "might have been" sheforgot to think so much of what was, and so the first days after Katy'sdeparture were more tolerable than she had thought it possible for themto be. At the close of the fourth there came a short note from Katy, whowas still in Boston at the Revere, and perfectly happy, she said, goinginto ecstasies over her husband, the best in the world, and certaintythe most generous and indulgent. "Such beautiful things as I am havingmade, " she wrote, "when I already had more than I needed, and so I toldhim, 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 forgotto tell you how much I liked his cousin, Mrs. Harvey, who boards at theRevere, and whom Wilford consults about my dress. I am somewhat afraidof her, too, she is so grand, but she pets me a great deal and laughs atmy speeches. Mr. Ray is here too, and I think him splendid. 

"By the way, Helen, I heard him tell Wilford that you had one of thebest shaped heads he ever saw, and that he thought you decidedly goodlooking. I must tell you now of the only thing which troubles me in theleast, and I shall get used to that, I suppose. It is so strange Wilfordnever told me a word until she came, my waiting maid. Think of that!little Katy Lennox with a waiting maid, who jabbers French half thetime, for she speaks that language as well as her own, having beenabroad 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 beautifulmantilla from Wilford's mother, and the loveliest dress. Just thepattern was fifty dollars, she said. 

"The steamer sails in three days, and I will write again before thattime, 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, butI will tell you how he has bought me a diamond pin and earrings, whichEsther, who knows the value of everything, says never cost less thanfive hundred dollars. 

"Yours, 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 uponits contents, and especially upon the part referring to herself, andwhat Mark Ray said of her. 

Every human heart is susceptible of flattery, and Helen was not anentire exception. Still with her ideas of city men she could not at oncethink favorably of Mark Ray, just for a few complimentary words whichmight or might not have been in earnest, and she found herself lookingforward 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 farmhouse rose the morning of the daywhen Katy was to sail, and as if they could really see the tall masts ofthe vessel which was to bear her away, the eyes of the whole family wereturned often to the eastward with a wistful, anxious gaze, while ontheir lips and in their hearts were earnest prayers for the safety ofthat ship and the precious freight it bore. But hours, however sad, willwear 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'socean life. At the farmhouse the work was all done up, and Helen in herneat gingham dress, with her bands of brown hair bound about her head, sat listlessly at her sewing, when she was startled by the sound ofwheels, and looking up saw the boy employed to carry packages from theexpress office, driving to their door with a trunk, which he said hadcome that morning from Boston. 

In some surprise Helen hastened to unlock it with the key which shefound appended to it. The trunk was full, and over the whole a linentowel was folded, while on the top of that lay a letter in Katy'shandwriting, directed to Helen, who, sitting down upon the floor, brokethe 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 byone of Mrs. Harvey's friends, and I am so tired, for you know I am notaccustomed to such late hours. Wilford says I will get accustomed tothem, that in New York they are seldom in bed before eleven or twelve, but I never shall. It will kill me, I am sure, and yet I rather enjoythe sitting up if I did not feel so wretchedly next day. The party wasvery 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, sothat I knew just what to do, and was not awkward at all. I hope not, atleast for Wilford's sake. 

"You do not know how grand and dignified he is here in Boston among hisown set; he is so different from what he was in Silverton that I shouldbe afraid of him if I did not know how much he loves me. He shows thatin every action, and I am perfectly happy, except when I think thatto-morrow night at this time I shall be on the sea, going away from youall. Here it does not seem far to Silverton, and I often look towardhome, wondering what you are doing, and if you miss me any. I wish Icould see you once before I go, just to tell you all how much I loveyou--more than I ever did before, I am sure. 

"And now I come to the trunk. I know you will be surprised at itscontents, but you cannot be more so than I was when Wilford said I mustpack 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 suddenthrob as the letter dropped from her hand, while she tore off the linencovering and saw for herself that Katy had written truly. 

She could not weep then, but her face was white as marble as she againtook 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, butwhat 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 propershe was to procure it. It is very funny that she did not find a singleproper garment among them all, when we thought them so nice. They werenot 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, butI can see no difference except that I am a great deal happier and haveWilford all the time. 

"Well, as I was telling you, I was measured and fitted, and my figurepraised, until my head was nearly turned, only I did not like the horridstays 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 Ihad never worn them, and so I submit to the powers that be; but everychance I get here in my room I take them off and throw them on thefloor, 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 lacesor muslins to match--fashionable people are so particular about thesethings. 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 MissHazelton's did. But I really believe I like the old ones best, becauseyou helped to make them; and when Wilford said I must send them home, Iwent where he could not see me and cried, because--well, I hardly knowwhy 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 ifI wore the dresses. Dearest sister, I can fancy the look that will comeon your face, and I wish I could be present to kiss it away. Imagine methere, will you? with my arms around your neck, and tell mother not tomind. Tell her I never loved her so well as now, and that when I comehome from Europe I shall bring her ever so many things. There is a newblack silk for her in the trunk, and one for each of the aunties, whilefor 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 Ithink because he guessed I had been crying. He asked what made my eyesso red, and when I would not tell him he took me with him to the silkstore and bade me get what I liked. Oh, he is the dearest, kindesthusband, and I love him all the more because I am the least bit afraidof 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-by. Remember little Katy, and if sheever did anything bad, don't lay it up against her. Kiss Morris andUncle Ephraim, and say how much I love them. Darling sister, darlingmother, good-by. "

 * * * * *

This was Katy's letter, and it brought a gush of tears from the fourwomen remembered so lovingly in it, the mother and the aunts stealingaway to weep in secret, without ever stopping to look at the new dressessent 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 athrill of satisfaction in knowing it was hers, but this quickly passedas she took out one by one the garments she had folded with so muchcare, 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 laidher head upon the trunk lid, while her tears dropped like rain in amongthe discarded articles condemned by Wilford Cameron. 

It seemed to her like Katy's grave, and she was still sobbing bitterly, when a step sounded outside the window, and a voice called her name. Itwas Morris, and lifting up her head Helen said, passionately:

"Oh, Morris, look! he has sent back all Katy's clothes, which you boughtand I worked so hard to make. They were not good enough for his wife towear, and so he insulted us. Oh, Katy, I never fully realized till nowhow wholly she is lost to us!"

"Helen, Helen, " Morris kept saying, trying to stop her, for close behindhim was Mark Ray, who heard her distinctly, and glancing in, saw herkneeling before the trunk, her pale face stained with tears, and herdark eyes shining with excitement. 

Mark Ray understood it at a glance, feeling indignant at Wilford forthus unnecessarily wounding the sensitive girl, whose expression, as shesat there upon the floor, with her face upturned to Morris, haunted himfor months. Mark was sorry for her--so sorry that his first impulse wasto go quietly away, and so spare her the mortification of knowing thathe had witnessed that little scene; but it was now too late. As shefinished speaking her eye fell on him, and coloring scarlet shestruggled to her feet, and covering her face with her hands wept stillmore violently. Mark was in a dilemma, and whispered softly to Morris:"I think I had better leave. You can tell her all I had to say;" butHelen 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 youof Katy. Did you see her off? Has she gone?"

Thus importuned, Mark Ray came in, and sitting down where his bootalmost touched the new brown silk, he very politely began to answer herrapid questions, putting her entirely at her ease by his pleasant, affable manner, and making her forget the littered appearance of theroom as she listened to his praises of her sister, who, he said, seemedso very happy, attracting universal admiration wherever she went. Noallusion 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 anhour more to spend, and feeling that Helen would rather he should spendit at Linwood he soon arose to go. Offering his hand to Helen, therepassed from his eyes into hers a look which had over her a strangelyquieting influence, and prepared her for a remark which otherwise mighthave seemed out of place. 

"I have known Wilford Cameron for years; he is my best friend, and Irespect him as a brother. In some things he may be peculiar, but hewill make your sister a kind husband. He loves her devotedly, I know, choosing her from the throng of ladies who would gladly have taken herplace. 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-by he wasgone, without seeing either Mrs. Lennox, Aunt Hannah or Aunt Betsy. Thiswas not the time for extending his acquaintance, he knew, and he wentaway with Morris, feeling that the farmhouse, so far as he could judge, was not exactly what Wilford had pictured it. "But then he came for awife, and I did not, " he thought, while Helen's face came before himas it looked up to Morris, and he wondered, were he obliged to choosebetween the sisters, which he should prefer. During the few days passedin Boston he had become more than half in love with Katy himself, almostenvying his friend the pretty little creature he had won. She was verybeautiful and very fascinating in her simplicity, but there wassomething in Helen's face more attractive than mere beauty, and Marksaid 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 alwaysbeen petted from babyhood; it will take time or some great sorrow toshow what she really is. "

This was Morris' reply, and the two then proceeded on in silence untilthey reached the boundary line between Morris' farm and Uncle Ephraim's, where they found the deacon mending a bit of broken fence, his coatlying on a pile of stones, and his wide, blue cotton trousers hangingloosely around him. When told who Mark was and that he brought news ofKaty, he greeted him cordially, and sitting down upon his fence listenedto all Mark had to say. Between the old and young man there seemed atonce a mutual liking, the former saying to himself as Mark went on, andhe resumed his work:

"I most wish it was this chap with Katy on the sea. I like his looks thebest, " while Mark's thoughts were:

"Will need not be ashamed of that man, though I don't suppose I shouldreally want him coming suddenly in among a drawing-room full of guests. "

Morris did not feel much like entertaining Mark, but Mark was fullycompetent to entertain himself, and thought the hour spent at Linwood avery pleasant one, half wishing for some excuse to tarry longer; butthere was none, and so at the appointed time he bade Morris good-by andwent on his way to New York. 

CHAPTER XII. 

FIRST MONTH OF MARRIED LIFE. 

If Katy's letters, written, one on board the steamer and another fromLondon, were to be trusted, she was as nearly perfectly happy as a youngbride well can be, and the people at the farmhouse felt themselves moreand more kindly disposed toward Wilford Cameron with each letterreceived. They were going soon into the northern part of England, andfrom thence into Scotland, Katy wrote from London, and two weeks afterfound them comfortably settled at the inn at Alnwick, near to AlnwickCastle. Wilford had seemed very anxious to get there, leaving Londonbefore Katy was quite ready to leave, and hurrying across the countryuntil 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 thedistinguished-looking American and his beautiful young wife. An entranceinto Alnwick Castle was easily obtained, and Katy felt that all hergirlish dreams of grandeur and magnificence were more than realizedhere in this home of the Percys, where ancient and modern styles ofarchitecture and furnishing were so blended together. She would nevertire of that place, she thought, but Wilford's taste led him elsewhere, and he took more delight, it would appear, in wandering around St. Mary's Church, which stood upon a hill commanding a view of the castleand of the surrounding country for miles away. Here Katy also came, rambling with him through the village graveyard where slept the dust ofcenturies, the gray, mossy tombstones bearing date backward for morethan a hundred years, their quaint inscriptions both puzzling andamusing 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, atsome distance from her, stood leaning against a tree and thinking sad, regretful thoughts, as his eye rested upon the rough headstone at hisfeet. 

"Genevra Lambert, aged twenty-two, " was the lettering upon it, and as heread it a feeling of reproach was in his heart, while he said: "I hope Iam not glad to know that she is dead. "

He had come to Alnwick for the sole purpose of finding that humblegrave, of assuring himself that after life's fitful fever, GenevraLambert 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 wasbelieving, so now he felt sure of it, and plucking from the turf aboveher a little flower growing there, he went back to Katy and sitting downbeside her with his arm around her waist, tried to devise some way oftelling her what he had promised himself he would tell her there in thatvery yard, where Genevra was buried. But the task was harder now thanbefore. Katy was so happy with him, trusting his love so fully that hedared not lift the veil and read to her that page hinted at once beforein Silverton, when they sat beneath the butternut tree, with the freshyoung grass springing around them. Then, she was not his wife, and thefear that she would not be if he told her all had kept him silent, butnow she was his alone; nothing could undo that, and there, in the shadowof the gray old church through whose aisles Genevra had been borne outto where the rude headstone was gleaming in the English sunlight, itseemed meet that he should tell her sad story. And Katy would haveforgiven him then, for not a shadow of regret had darkened her lifesince it was linked with his, and in her perfect love she could havepardoned much. But Wilford did not tell. It was not needful; he madehimself believe--not necessary for her ever to know that once he met amaiden called Genevra, almost as beautiful as she, but never so beloved. No, never. Wilford said that truly, when that night he bent over hissleeping Katy, comparing her face with Genevra's, and his love for herwith his love for Genevra. 

"That was a boyish fancy, this love of mature years, " and Wilfordpressed a kiss upon Katy's pure forehead, showing so white in themoonlight. 

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. Thusfar nothing had arisen to mar the happiness of his first weeks ofmarried life; nothing except the letters from Silverton, over which Katyalways cried, until he sometimes wished that the family could not write. But they could and they did; even Aunt Betsy inclosed in Helen's lettera note, wonderful both in orthography and composition, and concludingwith the remark that she would be glad when Catherine returned and wassettled in a home of her own, as she would then have a new place tovisit. 

There was a dark frown on Wilford's face, and for a moment he felttempted to withhold the note from Katy, but this he could not do then, so he gave it into her hands, watching her as with burning cheeks, sheread it through, and asking her at its close why she looked so red. 

"Oh, Wilford, " and she crept closely to him, "Aunt Betsy spells soqueerly, 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 thathis father would never have presumed to break a seal belonging to hismother, 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 hidefrom me?"

"No secrets, " Katy answered, "only I did not want you to see AuntBetsy's letter, that's all. "

"I did not marry Aunt Betsy--I married you, " was Wilford's reply; whichmeant far more than Katy guessed. 

With three thousand miles between him and his wife's relatives, Wilfordcould endure to think of them; but whenever letters came to Katy bearingthe Silverton postmark, he was conscious of a far different sensationfrom what he experienced when the postmark was New York and thehandwriting that of his own family. But not in any way did this feelingmanifest 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 kindand indulgent, caressing her with unwonted tenderness, and making herask him once if he loved her a great deal more now than when they werefirst married. 

"Yes, darling, a great deal more, " was Wilford's answer, as he kissedher 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 theheather blooms of Scotland. 

There was a trip to Edinburgh, a stormy passage across the Straits ofDover, a two months' sojourn in Paris, and then they went to Rome, whereWilford intended to pass the winter, journeying in the spring throughdifferent parts of Europe. He was in no haste to return to America; hewould rather stay where he could have Katy all to himself, away from herfamily and his own. But it was not so to be, and not very long after hisarrival at Rome there came a letter from his mother apprising him of hisfather's dangerous illness, and asking him to come home at once. Theelder Cameron had not been well since Wilford left the country, and thephysician was fearful that the disease had assumed a consumptive form, Mrs. Cameron wrote, adding that her husband's only anxiety was to seehis son again. To this there was no demur, and about the first ofDecember, six months from the time he had sailed, Wilford arrived inBoston, having taken a steamer for that city. His first act was totelegraph for news of his father, receiving a reply that he was better;the alarming symptoms had disappeared, and there was now great hope ofhis recovery. 

"We might have stayed longer in Europe, " Katy said, feeling a littlechill of disappointment--not that her father-in-law was better, but atbeing called home for nothing, when her life abroad was so happy andfree from care. 

Somehow the atmosphere of America seemed different from what it usedto be. It was colder, bluer, the little lady said, tapping her footuneasily and looking from her windows at the Revere out upon the snowystreets, through which the wintry wind was blowing in heavy gales. 

"Yes, it is a heap colder, " she sighed, as she returned to the largechair which Esther had drawn for her before the cheerful fire, chargingher disquiet to the weather once, never dreaming of imputing it to herhusband, who was far more its cause than was the December cold. 

He, too, though glad of his father's improvement, was sorry to have beenrecalled for nothing to a country which brought his old life back again, with all its forms and ceremonies, reviving his dread lest Katy shouldnot acquit herself as was becoming Mrs. Wilford Cameron. In hisselfishness he had kept her almost wholly to himself, so that the polishshe was to acquire from her travels abroad was not as perceptible as, now that he looked at her with his family's eyes, he could desire. Katywas Katy still, in spite of London, Paris, or Rome. To be sure therewas about her a little more maturity and self-assurance, but in allessential points she was the same; and Wilford winced as he thought howthe free, impulsive manner which, among the Scottish hills, where therewas no one to criticise, had been so charming to him, would shock hislady mother and Sister Juno. And this it was which made him moody andsilent, replying hastily to Katy when she said to him: "Please, Wilford, telegraph to Helen to be with mother at the West depot when we passthere to-morrow. The train stops five minutes, you know, and I want tosee them so much. Will you, Wilford?"

She had come up to him now, and was standing behind him, with her handsupon his shoulder; so she did not see the expression of his face as heanswered quickly;

"Yes, yes. "

A moment after he quitted the room, and it was then that Katy, standingbefore the window, charged the day with what was strictly Wilford'sfault. Returning at last to her chair she went off into a reverie as tothe new home to which she was going and the new friends she was to meet, wondering much what they would think of her, and wondering most if theywould 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, whileBluebell prefers her books and the quiet of her own room. "

Katy felt afraid of Bell, and in fact, now that they were so near, shefelt afraid of them all, notwithstanding Esther's assurances that theycould not help loving her. During the six months they had been togetherEsther had learned to feel for her young lady that strong affectionwhich sometimes exists between mistress and servant. Everything whichshe could do for her she did, smoothing as much as possible the meetingwhich she also dreaded, for though the Camerons were too proud toexpress before her their opinion of Wilford's choice, she had guessed itreadily, and pitied the young wife brought up with ideas so differentfrom those of her husband's family. More accustomed to Wilford's moodsthan Katy, she saw that something was the matter, and it prompted her tounusual attentions, stirring the fire into a still more cheerful blazeand bringing a stool for Katy, who in blissful ignorance of herhusband's real feelings, sat waiting his return from the telegraphoffice, whither she supposed he had gone, and building pleasant picturesof to-morrow's meeting with her mother and Helen, and possibly Dr. Morris, if not Uncle Ephraim himself. 

The voyage home had been long and wearisome, and Katy, who had sufferedfrom seasickness, was feeling jaded and tired, wishing, as she toldEsther, that instead of going to New York direct she could go straightto the farmhouse and "rest on mother's bed, " that receptacle for all herchildish ills. 

"I mean to ask Wilford if I may, " she said to herself, and her cheeksgrew brighter as she thought of really going home to mother and Helenand the kind old people who would pet and love her so much. 

So absorbed was she in her reverie as not to hear Wilford's step as hecame in, but when he stood behind her and took her head playfullybetween his hands, she started up, feeling that the weather had changed;it was not as cold and dreary in Boston as she imagined, neither didmother's bed seem as desirable a place to rest upon as the shoulderwhere she laid her head, playing with Wilford's buttons, and saying tohim at last:

"You went out to telegraph, didn't you?"

He had gone out with the intention of telegraphing as she desired, butin the hall below he had met with an old acquaintance who talked withhim so long that he entirely forgot his errand until Katy recalled it tohis mind, making him feel very uncomfortable as he frankly told her ofhis forgetfulness. 

"It is too late now, " he added; "besides you could only see them for amoment, just long enough to make you cry--a thing I do not greatlydesire, inasmuch as I wish my wife to look her best when I present herto my family, and with red eyes she couldn't, you know. "

Katy knew it was settled, and choking back her tears she tried tolisten, while Wilford, having fairly broken the ice with regard to hisfamily, told her how anxious he was that she should make a good firstimpression upon his mother. Did Katy remember that Mrs. Morey whom theymet at Paris, and could she not throw a little of her air into hermanner--that is, could she not drop her girlishness when in the presenceof others and be a little more dignified? When alone with him he likedto have her just what she was, a loving, affectionate little wife, butthe world looked on such things differently. Would Katy try?

Wilford, when he commenced, had no definite idea as to what he shouldsay, 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 afool and a brute, could only try to comfort her, telling her she neednot be anything but what she was--that his mother and sisters would loveher just as he did--and that daily association with them would teach herall that was necessary. 

Katy's tears were stopped at last; but the frightened, anxious look didnot leave her face, even though Wilford tried his best to divert hermind. A nervous terror of her new relations had gained possession of herheart, and nearly the entire night she lay awake, pondering in her mindwhat Wilford had said, and thinking how terrible it would be if heshould be disappointed in her after all. The consequence of this wasthat a very white, tired face sat opposite Wilford next morning at thebreakfast served in their private parlor; nor did it look much freshereven after they were in the cars and rolling out of Boston. But whenWorcester was reached, and the old home waymarks began to grow familiar, the color came stealing back, until the cheeks burned with an unnaturalred, and the blue eyes fairly danced as they rested on the hills ofSilverton. 

"Only three miles from mother and Helen! Oh, if I could go there!" Katythought, working her fingers nervously; but the express train did notpause there, and it went so swiftly by the depot that Katy could hardlydiscover who was standing there, whether friend or stranger. 

But when at last they came to West Silverton, and the long train slowlystopped, the first object she saw was Dr. Morris, driving down from thevillage. He had no intention of going to the depot, and only checked hishorse a moment, lest it should prove restive if too near the engine; butwhen a clear young voice called from the window: "Morris! oh, CousinMorris! I've come!" his heart gave a great heavy throb, for he knewwhose voice that was and whose the little hand beckoning to him. He hadsupposed her far away beneath Italian skies, for at the farmhouse nointelligence had been received of her intended return, and in muchsurprise 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 sheflew into his arms, wholly forgetful of the last night's lecture ondignity, also forgetful of Wilford, standing close beside her. He hadnot tried to hold her back when, at the sight of Morris, she sprang awayfrom him; but he followed after, biting his lip, and wishing she had alittle more discretion. Surely it was not necessary to half strangle Dr. Grant as she was doing, kissing his hand even after she had kissed hisface a full half dozen times, and all the people looking on. But Katydid not care for people. She only knew that Morris was there--the Morriswhom, in her great happiness abroad, she had perhaps slighted by notwriting directly to him but once. In Wilford's sheltering care she hadnot felt the need of this good cousin, as she used to do; but she was soglad to see him, wondering why he looked so thin and sad. Was he sick?she asked, gazing up into his face with a pitying look, which made himshiver as he answered:

"No, not sick, though tired, perhaps, as I have at present an unusualamount of work to do. "

And this was true--he was usually busy. But that was not the cause ofthe thin face, which others than Katy remarked. Helen's words: "It mighthave been, " spoken to him on the night of Katy's bridal, had never lefthis mind, much as he had tried to dislodge them. Some men can love adozen times; but it was not so with Morris. He could overcome his loveso that it should not be a sin, but no other could ever fill the placewhere Katy had been; and as he looked along the road through life hefelt that he must travel it alone. Truly, if Katy were not yet passingthrough the fire, he was, and it had left its mark upon him, purifyingas it burned, and bringing his every act into closer submission to hisGod. Only Helen and Marian Hazelton interpreted aright that look uponhis face, and knew it came from the hunger of his heart, but they keptsilence; while others said that he was working far too hard, urging himto abate his unwearied labors, for they would not lose their youngphysician yet. But Morris smiled his patient, kindly smile on all theirfears and went his way, doing his work as one who knew he must renderstrict account for the popularity he was daily gaining, both in his owntown and those around. He could think of Katy now without a sin, but hewas not thinking of her when she came so unexpectedly upon him, and foran 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 notquite so full, nor her cheeks so round; but she was weary with thevoyage, she said, and knowing how seasickness will wear upon one'sstrength, Morris imputed it wholly to that, and believed she was, asshe professed to be, perfectly happy. 

"Come, Katy, we must go now, " Wilford said, as the bell rang its firstalarm, and the passengers, some with sandwiches and some with friedcakes 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 gohome with you, Morris, " Katy exclaimed, again throwing her arms aroundthe doctor's neck as she bade him good-by, and sent fresh messages oflove to the friends at home, who, had they known she was to be there atthat time, would have walked the entire distance for the sake of lookingonce more into her dear face. 

"I intended to have brought them heaps of things, " she said, "but wecame home so suddenly I had no time. Here, take Helen this. Tell herit is real, " and the impulsive creature drew from her finger a smalldiamond set in black enamel, which Wilford had bought in Paris. "She didnot 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 triedto be natural as he replied: "Certainly, send it if you like. "

In her excitement Katy did not observe it, but Morris did, and he atfirst declined taking it, saying Helen had no use for it and would bebetter pleased with something not half as valuable. Katy, however, insisted, appealing to Wilford, who, ashamed of his first emotion, nowseemed quite as anxious as Katy herself, until Morris placed the ringin 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 thetrain moved on, Katy feeling like a different creature for having seensome one from home. 

"I am so glad I saw him--so glad I sent the ring, for now they will knowI am the same Katy Lennox, and I think Helen sometimes feared I mightget proud with you, " she said, while Wilford pulled her rich fur aroundher, smiling to see how bright and pretty she was looking since thatmeeting with Dr. Grant. "It was better than medicine, " Katy said, whenbeyond Springfield he referred to it a second time, and leaning her headupon his shoulder she fell into a refreshing sleep, from which she didnot waken until New York was reached, and Wilford, lifting her gentlyup, 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 regrettedrecalling his son, who he knew had contemplated a longer stay abroad. But that could not now be helped; Wilford had arrived in Boston, ashis telegram of yesterday announced--he would be at home to-day; andNo ---- Fifth Avenue was all the morning and a portion of the afternoonthe scene of unusual excitement, for both Mrs. Cameron and her daughterswished 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 thefather 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 theychose, but no one else. "

And so only Mark Ray was invited to the dinner, gotten up as elaboratelyas if a princess had been expected instead of little Katy, trembling inevery joint, when, about four P. M. , Wilford awoke her at the depot andwhispered: "Come, darling, we are home at last. "

"Why do you shiver so?" he asked, wrapping her cloak around her, andalmost lifting her from the car. 

"I don't--know. I guess--I'm cold, " and Katy drew a long breath as shethought of Silverton and the farmhouse, wishing so much that she wasgoing into its low-walled kitchen, where the cook-stove was, and wherethe chairs were all splint-bottomed, instead of into the handsomecarriage, where the cushions were so soft and yielding, and the wholeeffect so grand. 

She knew it was the Cameron carriage, for Wilford had said it would meetthem; but she had not expected it to be just what it was, and she bowedhumbly to the polite coachman greeting Wilford and herself sorespectfully. "What would our folks say?" she kept repeating to herselfas she drove along the streets, where they were beginning to light thestreet lamps, for the December day was dark and cloudy. It seemed solike a dream that she, who once had picked huckleberries on theSilverton hills, and bound coarse, heavy shoes to buy herself a pinkgingham dress, should now be riding in her carriage toward the homewhich 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 knowI don't like your eyes to be red. "

With a great effort, Katy kept her tears back, and was very calm whenthey reached the brownstone front, far enough uptown to save it fromthe slightest approach to plebeianism from contact with its downtownneighbors. In the hall the chandelier was burning, and as the carriagestopped a flame of light seemed suddenly to burst from every window asthe gas heads were turned up, so that Katy caught glimpses of richsilken curtains and costly lace as she went up the steps, clinging toWilford and looking ruefully around for Esther, who had disappearedthrough the basement door. Another moment and they stood within themarbled hall, Katy conscious of nothing definite--nothing but a vagueconsciousness of refined elegance, and that a handsome, richly-dressedlady came out to meet them, kissing Wilford quietly, and calling him herson--that the same lady later turned to her, saying, kindly: "And thisis my new daughter?"

Then Katy came to life, and did that at the very thought of which sheshuddered when a few months' experience had taught her the temerity ofthe act--she wound her arms impulsively around Mrs. Cameron's neck, rumpling her point lace collar, and sadly displacing the coiffeur of theastonished lady, who had seldom received so genuine a greeting as thatwhich Katy gave her, kissing her lips and whispering softly: "I love younow, because you are Wilford's mother, but by and by because you aremine. And you will love me some because I am his wife. "

Wilford was horrified, particularly when he saw how startled his motherlooked as she tried to release herself and adjust her tumbled headgear. It was not what he had hoped, nor what his mother had expected, for shewas unaccustomed to such demonstrations; but under the circumstancesKaty could not have done better. There was a tender spot in Mrs. Cameron's heart, and Katy touched it, making her feel a throb ofaffection for the childish creature suing for her love. 

"Yes, darling, I love you now, " she said, removing Katy's clinging armsand taking care that they should not enfold her a second time. "You aretired and cold, " she continued; "you had better go at once to yourrooms. You will find them in order, and I will send Esther up. There isplenty of time to dress for dinner, " and with a wave of her hand shedismissed Katy up the stairs, noticing as she went the exquisitesoftness of her fur cloak; but thinking it too heavy a garment for herslight figure, and noticing, too, the graceful ankle and foot which thelittle high-heeled gaiter showed to good advantage. "I did not see herface distinctly, but she has a well-turned instep and walks easily, " wasthe report she carried to her daughters, who in their own room, overKaty'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 mattersas dancing and well-turned insteps, and wondering if Katy cared in theleast 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 ispretty. "

And this was all the sisters could ascertain until their toilets werefinished, and they went down into the library, where their brotherwaited for them. He had seen his father and Jamie, and now he arose tomeet his sisters, kissing them both affectionately, and complimentingthem on their good looks. 

"I wish we could say the same of you, " saucy Juno answered, playfullypulling his mustache; "but, upon my word, Will, you are fast settlingdown into an oldish married man, even turning gray, " and she ran herfingers through his dark hair, where there was now and then a thread ofsilver. "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 sojournabroad, Katy had not helped him any in overcoming this weakness, but, onthe contrary, had fed his vanity by constant flattery. And still he washimself conscious of not looking quite as well as usual just now, forthe sea voyage had tired him as well as Katy, but he did not care to betold of it, and Juno's ill-timed remarks aroused him at once, particularly as they reflected somewhat on Katy. 

"I assure you I am not disappointed, " he answered, "and the six monthsof my married life have been the happiest I ever knew. Katy is more thanI expected her to be. "

Juno elevated her eyebrows slightly, but made no direct reply, whileBell began to ask about Paris and the places he had visited. 

Meanwhile Katy had been ushered into her room, which was directly overthe library and separated from Mrs. Cameron's only by a range of closetsand 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 thelarge bay window in the library below extended to the third story, itwas 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 softcarpet to the warm fire blazing in the grate. "A bay window, too, when Ilike them so much, and such handsome curtains and furniture. I shall behappy here. "

But happy as she was, Katy could not help feeling tired, and she sankinto one of the luxurious easy-chairs, wishing she could stay there allthe evening, instead of going down to that formidable dinner with hernew relations. How she dreaded it, especially when she remembered thatMrs. Cameron had said there would be plenty of time to dress, a thingwhich 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. Sothere's no help, you see, " and she began good-naturedly to remove hermistress' collar and pin, while Katy, standing up, sighed as she said;"I wish I was in Silverton to-night. I could wear anything there. Whatmust 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 knowjust what they regarded as proper, as by this means the dress selected, a delicate pearl-colored silk was sure to please. It was very becomingto Katy, and having been made in Paris, was not open to criticism. Esther's taste was perfect, so that Katy was never over-dressed, and shewas very simple and pretty this night, with the rich, soft lace aroundher neck and around her white, plump arms, where the golden bands wereshining. 

"Very pretty, indeed, " was Mrs. Cameron's verdict when at half-past fiveshe knocked at the door and then came in to see her daughter, kissingher 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 soyoung beside him. Mrs. Cameron was annoyed, too, for she had no ideaof a head, except as it was connected with a hairdresser, and herannoyance 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 youlook like a child. "

"I am eighteen and a half, " Katy said, feeling a lump rising in herthroat, for she guessed that her mother-in-law was not quite pleasedwith her hair. 

For herself, she liked it; it was so easy to brush and fix. She shouldgo wild if she had to submit to all Esther had told her of hairdressingand what it involved. 

Mrs. Cameron had asked if she would not like to see Mr. Cameron, theelder, before going down to dinner, and Katy had answered that shewould; so as soon as Esther had smoothed a refractory fold and broughther handkerchief, she followed to the room where Wilford's father wassitting. He might not have felt complimented could he have known thatsomething in his appearance reminded Katy of Uncle Ephraim. He was notnearly as old or as tall, nor was his hair as white, but theresemblance, if there were any, lay in the smile with which he greetedKaty, calling her his youngest child, and drawing her closely to him. 

It was remarked of Mr. Cameron that since their babyhood he had neverkissed one of his own children; but when Katy, who looked upon such asalutation as a matter of course, put up her rosy lips, making the firstadvance, he could not resist them, and he kissed her twice. Hearty, honest kisses they were, for the man was strongly drawn toward the younggirl, who said to him, timidly:

"I am glad to have a father--mine died before I could remember him. MayI call you so?"

"Yes, yes; God bless you, my child, " and Mr. Cameron's voice shook as hesaid it, for neither Bell nor Juno were wont to address him just as Katydid--Katy, standing close to him, with her hand upon his shoulder andher kiss yet fresh upon his lips. 

She had already crept a long way into his heart, and he took her handfrom his shoulder and holding it between his own, said to her:

"I did not think you were so small or young. You are my littledaughter, my baby, instead of my son's wife. How do you ever expectto fulfill the duties of Mrs. Wilford Cameron?"

"It's my short hair, sir. I am not so young, " Katy answered, her eyesfilling with tears as she began to wish back the heavy braids whichHelen cut away when the fever was at its height. 

"Never mind, child, " Mr. Cameron rejoined, playfully. "Youth is noreproach; there's many a one would give their right hand to be younglike you. Juno, for instance, who is--"

"Hus-band!" came reprovingly from Mrs. Cameron, spoken as only she couldspeak it, with a prolonged buzzing sound on the first syllable, andwarning the husband that he was venturing too far. 

"It is time to go down if Mrs. Cameron sees the young ladies beforedinner, " she said, a little stiffly; whereupon her better half startledKaty with the exclamation:

"Mrs. Cameron! Thunder and lightning, wife, call her Katy, and don't gointo any nonsense of that kind. "

The lady reddened, but said nothing until she reached the hall, when shewhispered to Katy, apologetically:

"Don't mind it. He is rather irritable since his illness, and sometimesmakes 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 tothe library, where Wilford met her at the door, and taking her on hisarm 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 nodesire to hug the tall, queenly girl whom Wilford introduced as Juno, and whose large, black eyes seemed to read her through as she offeredher hand and very daintily kissed her forehead, murmuring somethingabout a welcome to New York. Bell came next, broad-faced, plainer-looking Bell, who yet had many pretentions to beauty, but whosemanner, if possible, was frostier, cooler, than her sister's. Of thetwo, Katy liked Juno best, for there was about her a flash and sparklevery fascinating to one who had never seen anything of the kind and didnot know that much of this vivacity was the result of patient study andpractice. Katy would have known they were high-bred, as the worlddefines high breeding, and something in their manner reminded her of theladies she had seen abroad, ladies in whose veins lordly blood wasflowing. 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 awaythe instant hers were raised, but she knew just when they returned toher again, and how closely they were scanning her. 

"Your wife looks tired, Will. Let her sit down, " Bell said, herselfwheeling the easy-chair nearer to the fire, while Wilford placed Katy init; then, thinking she would get on better if he were not there, he leftthe room, and Katy was alone with her new sisters. 

Juno had examined her dress and found no fault with it, simply becauseit was Parisian make; while Bell had examined her head, deciding thatthere might be something in it, though she doubted it, but that, at allevents, short hair was very becoming to it, showing all its fineproportions, and half deciding to have her own locks cut away. Juno hada similar thought, wondering if it were the Paris fashion, and if shewould look as young in proportion as Katy did were her hair worn on herneck. 

With their brother's departure, the tongues of both the girls wereloosened, and standing near to Katy, they began to question her of whatshe had seen, Juno asking if she did not hate to leave Italy, and didnot wish herself back again. Wholly truthful, Katy answered: "Oh, yes, I was very sorry, I would rather be there than here. "

"Complimentary to us, very, " Bell murmured audibly in French, blushingas Katy's eyes were lifted quickly to hers, and she knew she wasunderstood. 

If there was anything which Katy liked more than another in the way ofstudy, it was French. She had excelled in it at Canandaigua, and whileabroad had taken great pains to acquire a pure pronunciation, so thatshe 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 somuch, and we expected to stay longer; but that does not hinder my likingto be here. I hope I did not offend you. "

"Certainly not; you are an honest little puss, " Bell replied, placingher hand caressingly upon the curly head laying back so wearily on thechair. "Here in New York we have a bad way of not telling the wholetruth, but you will soon be used to it. "

"Used to not telling the truth! Oh, I hope not!" and this time the blueeyes lifted so wonderingly to Bell's face had in them a startled look. 

"Simpleton, " was Juno's comment, while Bell's was: "I rather like thechild, " as she continued to smooth the golden curls and wound themaround her finger, wondering if Katy had a taste for metaphysics, thatbeing the last branch of science which she had taken up. 

"I suppose you will find Will a pattern husband, " Juno said, after amoment's pause, and Katy replied: "There never could be a better, I amsure, and I have been very happy. "

"Has he never said one cross word to you in all these six months?" wasJuno'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 musthave changed greatly, then, from what he used to be; but marriage hasprobably improved him. He tells you all his secrets, too, I presume?"

Anxious that Wilford should appear well in every light, Katy replied atrandom: "Yes, if he has any. "

"Well, then, " and in Juno's black eyes there was a wicked look, "perhapsyou will tell me who was or is the original of that picture he guards socarefully?"

"What picture?" and Katy looked up inquiringly, while Juno, with alittle sarcastic laugh, continued: "Oh, he has not told you, then. Ithought he would not, he seemed so angry and annoyed when he saw me withit once three or four years ago. I found it in his room, where he hadaccidentally left it, and was looking at it when he came in. It was thepicture of a young girl, who must have been very beautiful, and I didnot blame Will for loving her, if he ever did, but he need not have beenso indignant at me for wishing to know who it was. I never saw him soangry or so much disturbed. I hope you will ferret the secret out andtell me, for I have a great deal of curiosity, fancying that picturehad something to do with his remaining so long a bachelor. I do not meanthat 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 withoutloving more than one. There was Sybil Grey, a famous belle, whom Ithought at one time he would marry; but when Judge Grandon offered sheaccepted, and Will was left in the lurch. I do not really believe hecared, though, for Sybil was too much of a flirt to suit his jealouslordship, and I will do him the justice to say that, however manyfancies he may have had, he likes you best of all, " and this Juno feltconstrained to say because of the look in Katy's face, a look whichwarned her that in her thoughtlessness she had gone too far and piercedthe 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 toolate, and she could not recall her words, however much she might wish todo so. "Don't tell Will, " she was about to say, when Will himselfappeared, to take Katy out to dinner. Very beautiful and sad were theblue eyes which looked up at him so wistfully, and nothing but theremembrance of Juno's words, "He likes you best of all, " kept Katy fromcrying outright, when he took her hand, passing it between his own andasking if she was tired. 

"Let us try what dinner will do for you, " he said, and in silence Katywent with him to the pleasant dining-room, where the glare and theceremony bewildered her, bringing a homesick feeling as she thought ofSilverton, contrasting the elegance around her with the plain tea table, graced with the mulberry set instead of the costly china before her. 

Never had Katy felt so embarrassed in her life as she did this night, when seated for the first time at dinner in her husband's home, with allthose criticising eyes upon her, as she knew they were. She had beenvery hungry, but her appetite was gone, and she almost loathed the richfood offered her, feeling so glad when the dinner was ended, and Wilfordasked if she would go then to Jamie's room. He was sitting in hiswheel-chair when they went in, and his eyes turned eagerly toward them, lighting up with pleasure when Wilford said: "This is your Aunt Katy. You will love each other, I am sure. "

That they would love each other was very apparent from the kisses Katypressed upon his lips, and the way in which his arms clung around herneck as he said: "I am glad you have come, Aunt Katy, and you will tellme of the good doctor. He is your cousin, Uncle Wilford says. "

With Jamie Katy was perfectly at her ease. There was some affinitybetween him and herself, and she was glad when Wilford left them alone, as he wisely did, going back to where his mother and sisters were freelydiscussing his bride, his mother calling her a mere child, who wouldimprove, and Juno saying she had neither manner nor style, while Belloffered no opinion, except that she was pretty. A part of thesecriticisms Wilford heard, and they made his blood tingle, for he hadgreat faith in their opinions, even though he sometimes savagelycombated them, and into his heart there crept a slight feeling ofdissatisfaction toward Katy, now kneeling on the floor by Jamie's side, and with her head almost in his lap, talking to him of Morris Grant, whose very name had a strange power to soothe her. 

"You don't seem like an aunt, " Jamie said at last, smoothing her shorthair; "you look so like a girl. I wonder, must I call you so? I guessI must, though, for Uncle Will told me to, and we all mind him, grandmaand all! Do you?" and the child looked curiously at her. 

Had Jamie's question been put to her two weeks ago, she would havehesitated in her answer, and even now she had not waked to the fact thatin all essential points her husband's wish was the law she could nothelp obey, but she replied, laughingly: "Yes, I mind him, " while Jamiecontinued: "I love him so much, and he loves us and you. I heard himtell grandma so, and by his voice I knew he was in earnest. He neverloved any one half so well before, he said, not even--somebody--I forgetwho--a funny name it was. "

Katy felt almost as if she were doing wrong, but remembering what Junohad said of Sybil Grey, she faintly asked:

"Was Sybil the name?"

Jamie hardly thought it was. It seemed more like some town; still, itmight have been, he said, and Katy's heart grew lighter, for Juno's idlewords had troubled her, and Sybil Grey most of all; but if her husbandnow loved her best, she did not care so much; and when Wilford came forher to join them in the parlor, he found her like herself both in looksand spirits. Mark Ray had been obliged to decline Mr. Cameron'sinvitation to dinner, but he was now in the library, Wilford said, andKaty was glad, for she remembered how he had helped her during that weekof gayety in Boston, when society was so new to her. As he had beenthen, so he was now, and his friendly, respectful manner put Katy asmuch at her ease as it was possible for her to be in the presence ofWilford's mother and sisters, who watched her so narrowly. 

"I suppose you have not seen your Sister Helen? You know I called there, of course?" Mark said to Katy; but before she could reply, a pair ofblack eyes shot a keen glance at the luckless Mark, and Juno's sharpvoice said, quickly: "Called on her! When, pray? I did not know you hadthe honor of Miss Lennox's acquaintance. "

Mark was in a dilemma. He had kept his call at Silverton to himself, ashe did not care to be questioned about Katy's family; and now, when itaccidentally came out, he tried to make some evasive reply, pretendingthat he had spoken of it, and Juno had forgotten. But Juno knew better, and from that night dated a strong feeling of dislike, almost hatred, for Helen Lennox, whom she affected to despise, even though she could bejealous of her. Wisely changing the conversation, Mark asked Katy nextto play, and as she seldom refused, she went at once to the piano, astonishing both Mrs. Cameron and her daughters with the brilliancy ofher performance. Even Juno complimented her, saying she must have takenlessons very young. 

"When I was ten, " Katy answered. "Cousin Morris gave me my firstexercises himself. He plays sometimes. "

"Yes, I knew that, " Juno replied. "Does your sister play as well asyou?"

Katy knew that Helen did not, and she answered frankly: "Morris thinksshe does not. She is not as fond of it as I am. " Then feeling that shemust in some way make amends for Helen, she added: "But she knows agreat deal more than I do about books. Helen is very smart. "

There was a smile on every lip at this ingenuous remark, but only Markand Bell liked Katy the better for it. Wilford did not care to have hertalking of her friends, and he kept her at the piano until she said herfingers were tired, and begged leave to stop. 

It was late ere Mark bade them good-night; so late that Katy began towonder if he would never go, yawning once so perceptibly that Wilfordgave her a reproving glance, which sent the hot blood to her face anddrove from her every feeling of drowsiness. Even after he had gone thefamily were in no haste to retire, but sat chatting with Wilford untilthe city clock struck twelve and Katy was actually nodding in her chair. 

"Poor child, she is very tired, " Wilford said, apologetically, gentlywaking Katy, who, really mortified, begged them to excuse her, andfollowed her husband to her room, where she was free to ask him what shemust ask before she could ever be quite as happy as she had been before. 

Notwithstanding what Jamie had said, Juno's words kept recurring to hermind, and going up to the chair where Wilford was sitting before thefire, and standing partly behind him, she said, timidly: "Will youanswer me one thing truly?"

Alone with Katy, Wilford felt all his old tenderness returning, anddrawing 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, lovethem well enough to wish to make them your wife?"

Katy could feel how Wilford started, as he said: "What put that ideainto your head? Who has been talking to you?"

"Juno, " Katy answered. "She told me she believed that it was some otherlove which kept you a bachelor so long. Was it, Wilford?" and Katy'slips 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'spresence, even if the lady were his wife. So he said, instead:

"It was very unkind in Juno to distress you thus with matters aboutwhich she knew nothing. "

"But did you?" Katy asked again. "Was there not a Sybil Grey, or someone of that name?"

At mention of Sybil Grey, Wilford looked relieved, and answered her atonce:

"Yes, there was a Sybil Grey, Mrs. Judge Grandon now, and a dashingwidow. Don't sigh so wearily, " he continued, as Katy drew a gaspingbreath. "Knowing she was a widow, I chose you, thus showing which Ipreferred. Few men live to be thirty without more or less fancies, whichunder some circumstances might ripen into something stronger, and I amnot an exception. I never loved Sybil Grey, nor wished to make her mywife. I admired her very much. I admire her yet, and among all myacquaintances there is not one upon whom I would care to have you makeso good an impression as upon her, nor one whose manner you could betterimitate. "

"Oh, will she call? Shall I see her?" Katy asked, beginning to feelalarmed at the very thought of Sybil Grey, with all her polish andmanner. 

"She is spending the winter in New Orleans with her late husband'srelatives. She will not return till spring, " Wilford replied. "But donot look so distressed, for I tell you solemnly that I never lovedanother as I love you, my wife. Do you believe me?"

"Yes, " and Katy's head drooped upon his shoulder. 

She was satisfied with regard to Sybil Grandon, only hoping she wouldnot have to meet her when she came home. But the picture. Whose wasthat? Not Sybil's certainly, else Juno would have known. The picturetroubled her, but she dared not speak of it, Wilford had seemed so angryat Juno. Still, she would probe him a little further, and so shecontinued:

"I do believe you, and if I ever see this Sybil I will try to imitateher; but tell me, if, after her, there was among your friends one betterthan the rest, one almost as dear as I am, one whom you sometimesremember even now--is she living, or is she dead?"

Wilford thought of that humble grave far off in St. Mary's churchyard, the grave whose headstone bore the inscription: "Genevra Lambert, aged22, " and he answered quickly:

"If there ever was such a one, she certainly is not living. Are yousatisfied?"

Katy answered that she was, but perfect confidence in her husband'saffection had been terribly shaken by Juno's avowal and his partialadmission of an earlier love, and Katy's heart was too full to sleep, even after she had retired. Visions of Sybil Grey, blended with visionsof another whom she called the "dead fancy, " flitted before her mind, asshe lay awake, while hour after hour went by, until tired nature couldendure no longer, and just as the great city was waking up and therattle of wheels was beginning to be heard upon the distant 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 reliefto have introduced into the family an entirely new element--a characterthe dissection of which is at once a novelty and a recreation. It isabsolutely refreshing, and I find myself returning to my books withincreased vigor after an encounter with that simple-hearted, unsophisticated, innocent-minded creature, our sister-in-law, Mrs. Wilford Cameron. Such pictures as Juno and I used to draw of the statelypersonage who was one day coming to us as Wilford's wife, and of whomeven mother was to stand in awe. Alas! how hath our idol fallen! Tell itnot in Gath, nor yet in Gotham! And still I rather like the littlecreature, who, the very first night, nearly choked mother to death, giving her lace streamers a most uncomfortable twitch, and actuallykissing father--a thing I have not done since I can remember. But, then, with the exception of Will and Jamie, the Camerons are all a set oficicles, encased in a refrigerator at that. If we were not, we shouldthaw out, when Katy leans on us so affectionately and looks up at us sowistfully, as if pleading for our love. Wilford does wonders; he used tobe so grave, so dignified and silent, that I never supposed he wouldbear having a wife meet him at the door with cooing and kisses, andclimbing into his lap right before us all. Juno says it makes her sick, while mother is dreadfully shocked; and even Will sometimes seemsannoyed, 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 likeKaty than like Sybil Grandon, about whom Juno was mean enough to tellher the first day of her arrival. On the whole, I would rather be Katy, but better yet, would prefer remaining myself, Bell Cameron, the happymedium between the two extremes, of art perfected and nature in itsprimeval state, just as it existed among the Silverton hills. From myown standpoint, I can look on and criticise, giving my journal thebenefit of my criticisms and conclusions. 

Very pretty, but shockingly insipid, is Juno's verdict upon Mrs. Wilford, while mother says less, but looks a great deal more, especiallywhen she talks about "my folks, " as she did to Mrs. General Reynolds thevery first time she called. Mother and Juno were so annoyed, while Willlooked like a thundercloud, particularly when she spoke of UncleEphraim, 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 otherpeople's eyes. One of his weaknesses is a too great reverence for theworld'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 willnot be many months before he comes to the conclusion that he has made amesalliance, a thing of which no Cameron was ever guilty. 

I wonder if there is any truth in the rumor that Mrs. General Reynoldsonce taught a district school, and if she did, how much would thatdetract from the merits of her son, Lieutenant Bob. But what nonsense tobe writing about him. Let me go back to Katy, who has no more idea ofetiquette than Jamie in his wheel-chair. Still, there is something veryattractive about her, and Mrs. General Reynolds took to her at once, petting her as she would a kitten, and laughing merrily at her naivespeeches, as she called them--speeches which made Will turn black in theface, they betrayed so much of rustic life and breeding. I fancy that hehas given Katy a few hints, and that she is beginning to be somewhatafraid of him, for she watches him constantly when she is talking, andshe does not now slip her hand into his as she used to when guests areleaving and she stands at his side; neither is she quite sodemonstrative when he comes up from the office at night, and there is alook upon her face which was not there when she came. They are tamingher down, mother and Juno, and to-morrow they are actually going tocommence a systematic course of training, preparatory to her _début_into society, said _début_ to occur on the night of the ----, when Mrs. General Reynolds gives the party talked about so long. I was presentwhen they met in solemn conclave to talk it over, mother asking Will ifhe had any objections to Juno's instructing his wife with regard tocertain things of which she was ignorant. Will's forehead knit itselftogether at first, and I half hoped he would veto the whole proceedings, but after a moment he replied:

"No, providing Katy is willing. Her feelings must not be hurt. "

"Certainly not, " mother said. "Katy is a dear little creature, and weall 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 whichMrs. Wilford Cameron ought to fill, it seems necessary to tone her downa little before her first appearance at a party. "

To this Will assented, and then Juno went on to enumerate herdeficiencies, which, as nearly as I can remember, are these: She laughstoo much and too loud; is too enthusiastic over novelties, conducting asif she never saw anything before; has too much to say about Silvertonand "my folks, " quotes Uncle Ephraim and Sister Helen too often, and iseven guilty at times of mentioning a certain Aunt Betsy, who must havefloated with the Ark and snuffled the breezes of Ararat. She does notknow how to enter, or cross, or leave a room properly, or receive anintroduction; or, in short, do anything according to New York ideas asunderstood by the Camerons, etc. ; she is to be taught--toned down, mother called it--dwelling upon her high spirits as something vulgar, ifnot absolutely wicked. How father would have sworn, for he calls her hislittle sunbeam, and says he never should have gained so fast if she hadnot come with her sunny face and lively, merry laugh to cheer hissickroom. Katy has a fast friend in him and Jamie. But mother andJuno--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 happywith us? She says she is, and is evidently delighted with New York life, clapping her hands when the invitation to Mrs. Reynolds' party wasreceived, and running with it to Wilford as soon as he came home. It isher first big party, she says, she having never attended any except thatlittle sociable in Boston, and those insipid schoolgirl affairs at theseminary. 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 betterthan 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 wheneverJuno takes her in hand, for I like to see the fun. Were she at allbookish, I should avow myself her champion, and openly defend her; butshe is not, and so I give her into the hands of the Philistines, hopingthey will at least spare her hair and not worry her life out on thathead. It is very becoming to her, and several young ladies havewhispered their intention of trying its effect upon themselves, so thatKaty 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 howto enter the parlor, how to arrange her dress, how to carry her handsand feet, and how to sit in a chair--Juno going through with theperformance first, and then requesting Katy to imitate her, which I mustsay she did to perfection, even excelling her teacher, inasmuch as sheis naturally very easy and graceful. Had I been Katy I should haverebelled, but she is far too sweet-tempered and anxious to please, whileI half 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 hewould be ashamed of her, and there were tears in her great blue eyes asshe said it. Hang Wilford! Hang the whole of them! I am not sure but Ishall espouse her cause myself, or else tell father, who will do it somuch better. 

Dec. --th. --Another drill, with Juno commanding officer, while thepoor little private seemed completely worried out. This time there wereopen doors, but so absorbed were mother and Juno as not to hear thebell, and just as Juno was saying, "Now, imagine me Mrs. GeneralReynolds, to whom you are being presented, " while Katy was bowing almostto the floor, who should appear but Mark Ray, stumbling square upon thatludicrous rehearsal, and of course bringing it to an end. No explanationwas made, nor was any needed, for Mark's face showed that he understoodit, and it was as much as he could do to keep from roaring withmerriment; I am sure he pitied Katy, for his manner toward her was veryaffectionate and kind, and when once she left the room he complimentedher highly, repeating many things he had heard in her praise from thosewho had seen her both in the street and here at home. Juno's face waslike a thundercloud, for she was as much in love with Mark Ray as shewas once with Dr. Grant, and is even jealous of his praise of Katy. Gladam I that I never yet saw the man who could make me jealous, or for whomI cared a pin. There's Bob Reynolds up at West Point. I suppose I dothink his epaulettes very becoming to him, but his hair is too light andhe cannot raise whiskers big enough to cast a shadow on the wall, whileI know he looks with contempt upon females who write, even though theirwritings 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 be. I had rather stay at home and finish that articleentitled "Women of the Present Century, " and suggested to my mind by mySister Katy, who stands for the picture I am drawing of a pretty woman, with more heart than brains, contrasting her with such a one as Juno, her opposite extreme. 

January 10. --The last time I wrote in my journal was just before theparty, which is over now, the long-talked-of affair at which Katy wasthe reigning belle. I don't know how it happened, but happen it did, andJuno's glory faded before that of her rival, whose merry, ringing laughfrequently penetrated to every room, and made more than one look up insome surprise. But when Mrs. Humphreys said: "It's that charming littleMrs. Cameron, the prettiest creature I ever saw, her laugh is sorefreshing and genuine, " the point was settled, and Katy was free tolaugh as loudly as she pleased. 

She did look beautiful, in lace and pearls, with her short hair curlingon 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 wasperfectly irresistible, we suffered her to have her way, and when shewas dressed, sent her in to father, who had asked to see her. And nowcomes the strangest thing in the world. 

"You are very beautiful, little daughter, " father said. "I almost wishI 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 usever sat, I am sure, and began to coax him to go, telling him she shouldappear better if he were there, and that she should need him whenWilford left her, as of course he must a part of the time. And fatheractually dressed himself and went. But Katy did not need him after thepeople began to understand that Mrs. Wilford Cameron was the rage. EvenSybil Grey, in her palmiest days, never received such homage as was paidto the little Silverton girl, whose great charm was her perfectenjoyment of everything, and her perfect faith in what people said toher. Juno was nothing, and I worse than nothing, for I did go, wearinga plain black silk, with high neck and long sleeves, looking, as Junosaid, like a Sister of Charity. But Bell Cameron can afford to dressplainly if she chooses, and I am glad, as it saves a deal of trouble, and somehow people seem to like me quite as well in my Quakerish dressas they do the fashionable Juno in diamonds and flowers, with uncoveredneck and shoulders. 

Lieutenant Bob was there; his light hair lighter than ever, and hischin as smooth as my hand. He likes to dance, and I do not, but somehowhe persisted in staying where I was, notwithstanding that I said mysharpest things in hopes to get rid of him. He left me at last todance with Katy, who makes up in grace and airiness what she lacks inknowledge. Once upon the floor, she did not lack for partners, but, Iverily believe, danced every set, growing prettier and fairer as shedanced, for hers is a complexion which does not get red and blowsy withexercise. 

Mark Ray was there, too, and I saw him smile comically when Katy met thepeople with that bow she was making at the time he came so suddenly uponus. Mark is a good fellow, and I really think we have him to thank in ameasure for Katy's successful _début_. He was the first to take her fromWilford, 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 somethingwrong--something countrified. "

"Never mind, " he answered. "Act yourself just as you would were youat home in Silverton, where you are known. That is far better thanaffecting a manner not natural to you. "

After that Katy brightened wonderfully. The stiffness which at firstwas perceptible passed off, and she was Katy Lennox, queening it overall the city belles, who, because she was married, would not bejealous--drawing after her a host of gentlemen, and between the setsholding a miniature court at one end of the room, where the moredesirable of the guests crowded around; flattering her until her littlehead ought to have been turned if it was not. To do her justice, shebore her honors well, and when we were in the carriage, and fathercomplimented 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 thereare now on our table for Mrs. Wilford Cameron, while our opera boxbetween the scenes is packed with beaus, until one would suppose Wilfordmight be jealous; but Katy takes it all so quietly and modestly, seemingonly gratified for his sake, that I really believe he enjoys it morethan she does. At all events, he persists in her going, even when shewould rather stay at home, so if she is spoiled, the fault will restwith him. 

February--th. --Poor Katy. Dissipation is beginning to wear upon her, for she is not accustomed to our late hours, and sometimes falls asleepwhile 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 withher? Somehow, she does not believe that people are as delighted as theypretend, and so she keeps training and tormenting her until I do notwonder that Katy sometimes hates to go out, lest she shall unconsciouslybe guilty of an impropriety. I pitied her last night, when, after shewas ready for the opera, she came into my room, where I was indulging inthe luxury of a loose dressing gown, with my feet on the sofa. Latterlyshe has taken to me, and now sitting down before the fire into which herblue eyes looked with a steady stare, she said:

"I wish I might stay here with you to-night. I have heard this operabefore, and it will be so tiresome. I get so sleepy while they aresinging, for I never care to watch the acting. I did at first, when itwas new, but now it seems insipid to see them make-believe, while thetheatre is worse yet, " and she gave a weary yawn. 

In less than three months she has exhausted fashionable life, and Ilooked at her in astonishment, asking what would please her if the operadid 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, Ilike to skate, I like to shop, and all that; but, oh, you don't know howI 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 inMarch and April? Sixty-one, " she continued; "then I may safely say thatin eighty days I shall see mother, and all the dear old places. It isnot a grand home like this. You, Bell, might laugh at it. Juno would, Iam sure, but you do not know how dear it is to me, or how I long for asight of the huckleberry hills and the rocks where Helen and I used toplay, Helen is a darling sister, and I know you will like her. "

Just then Will called to say the carriage was waiting, and Katy wasdriven away, while I sat thinking of her and the devoted love with whichshe clings to her home and friends, wondering if it were the kindestthing 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 Cameronis the rage--the bright star of society--which quotes and pets andflatters, and even laughs at her by turns; and Wilford, though stillwatchful, 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 toldher how well she was looking and how pretty her dress was: "Yes, prettyenough, but I am so tired. If I could lie down on mother's bed, in ashilling calico, just as I used to do!"

Mother's bed seems at present to be the height of her ambition--thething she most desires; and as Juno fancied it must be the feathers sheis sighing for, she wickedly suggests that Wilford either buy a featherbed for his wife, or else send to that Aunt Betsy for the one which wasto be Katy's setting out! They go to housekeeping in May, and on MadisonSquare, too, I think Wilford would quite as soon remain with us, for hedoes not fancy change; but Katy wants a home of her own, and I never sawanything more absolutely beautiful than her face when father said toWilford that No. ---- Madison Square was for sale, advising him tosecure it. But when mother intimated that there was no necessity for thetwo families to separate at present--that Katy was too young to havecharge of a house--there came into her eyes a look of such distress thatit 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 homeof 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--Ithink--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 somuch of Aunt Betsy and Aunt Hannah. "

Mother looked at Wilford then; but he was looking into the fire, with anexpression anything but favorable to that visit home, fixed now forApril instead of May. But Katy has no discernment, and believes she isactually going home to learn how to make apple dumplings and pumpkinpies. In spite of mother, the house is bought, and now she is gone allday, deciding how it shall be furnished, always leaving Katy out of thequestion, as if she were a cipher, and only consulting Wilford's choice. They will be happier alone, I know. Mrs. General Reynolds says that itis the way for young people to live; that her son's wife shall nevercome home to her, for of course their habits could not be alike; andthen she looked queerly at me, as if she knew I was thinking ofLieutenant Bob and who his wife might be. 

Sybil Grandon is coming home in April or May, and Mrs. Reynolds wonderswill 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 perfectparagon, and who is very anxious that Katy may appear well before her, saying nothing and doing nothing which shall in any way approximate toSilverton and the shoes which Katy told Esther she used to bind when agirl. Will need not be disturbed, for Sybil Grandon was never half aspretty as Katy, or half as much admired. Neither need Mrs. GeneralReynolds fret about Bob, as if he would care for her. Sybil Grandon, indeed!

CHAPTER XVI. 

KATY. 

For nearly four months Katy had been in New York, drinking deep draughtsfrom the cup of folly and fashion held so constantly to her lips; butshe 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 belleof every place, to know that her dress, her style, and even the fashionof her hair, was copied and admired, was gratifying to her, because sheknew how much it pleased her husband, who was never happier or prouderthan when, with Katy on his arm, he entered some crowded parlor andheard the buzz of admiration as it circled around, while Katy, simple-hearted and guileless still, smiled and blushed like a littlechild, wondering at the attentions lavished upon her, and attributingthem mostly to her husband, whose position she thoroughly 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 ofgrateful, 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 wasthe one to blame, not Wilford; he was right--he the idol sheworshiped--he the one for whose sake she tried so hard to drop hercountry ways and conform to the rules his mother and sister taught, submitting with the utmost good-nature to what Bell in her journal hadcalled the drill, but it must be confessed not succeeding very well inimitating Juno. Katy could hardly be other than her own easy, gracefulself, and though the drills had their effect, and taught her manythings, they could not divest her of that natural, playful, airy mannerwhich so charmed the city people and made her the reigning belle. AsMarian Hazleton had predicted, others than her husband had spoken wordsof praise in Katy's ear; but such was her nature that the shafts offlattery glanced aside, leaving her unharmed, so that her husband, though sometimes startled and disquieted, had no cause for jealousy, enjoying Katy's success far more than she did herself, urging her outwhen she would rather have stayed at home, and evincing so muchannoyance if she ventured to remonstrate that she gave it up at lastand floated on with the tide. 

Mrs. Cameron had at first been greatly shocked at Katy's want ofpropriety, looking on aghast when she wound her arms around Wilford'sneck, or sat upon his knee; but to the elder Cameron the sight was apleasant 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 thisearth a paradise to him. But fashion had entered his Eden--that summertime was gone, and only the dim leaves of autumn lay where the budswhich promised so much had been. The girlish bride was a stately matronnow, doing nothing amiss, but making all her acts conform to aprescribed rule of etiquette, and frowning majestically upon thefrolicsome, impulsive Katy, who had crept so far into the heart ofthe eccentric man that he always found the hours of her absence long, listening intently for the sound of her bounding footsteps, and feelingthat 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, while a shadow lowered on his brow whenfirst the toning down process commenced. He had heard them talk aboutit, and in his wrath he had hurled a cut-glass goblet upon the marblehearth, breaking it in atoms, while he called them a pair of preciousfools, and Wilford a bigger one because he suffered it. So long as hisconvalescence lasted, he was some restraint upon his wife, but when hewas well enough to resume his duties in his Wall Street office, therewas nothing in the way, and Katy's education progressed accordingly. ForWilford's sake, Katy would do anything, and as from some things he haddropped she guessed that her manner was not quite what suited him, shesubmitted to much which would otherwise have been excessively annoying. But she was growing tired now, and it told upon her face, which waswhiter than when she came to New York, while her figure was, ifpossible, 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 havemissed her so much. 

Little by little it had come to Katy that she was not quite ascomfortable in her husband's family as she would be in a house of herown. The constant watch kept over her by Mrs. Cameron and Juno irritatedand fretted her, making her wonder what was the matter, and why sheshould so often feel lonely and desolate when surrounded by every luxurywhich wealth could purchase. "It is his folks, " she always said toherself when cogitating upon the subject. "Alone with Wilford I shallfeel as light and happy as I used to do in Silverton. "

And so Katy caught eagerly at the prospect of a release from therestraint of No. ----, seeming so anxious that Wilford, almost before hewas aware of it himself, became the owner of one of the most desirablesituations on Madison Square; and Katy was the envy of the belles, whohad copied and imitated her, even to the cutting off their hair, whichfashion may be fairly said to have originated from Katy herself, whoseshort curls had ceased to be obnoxious to the fastidious Mrs. Cameron, for Juno had tried the effect, looking, as Bell said, "like a fool, "while Juno would have given much to have again the long black tresses, the cutting of which did not make her look like Katy. Of all thehousehold, after Katy, Juno was perhaps the only one glad of the newhouse. It would be a change for herself, for she meant to spend muchof her time on Madison Square, where everything was to be on the mostmagnificent scale. Fortunately for Katy, she knew nothing of Juno'sintentions and built many a castle of her new home, where mother couldcome with Helen and Dr. Grant. Somehow she never saw Uncle Ephraim, norhis wife, nor yet Aunt Betsy there. She knew how out of place they wouldappear, and how they would annoy Wilford: but surely to her mother andHelen there could be no objection, and when she first went over thehouse, she designated mentally this room as mother's, and another one asHelen's, thinking how each should be fitted up with direct reference totheir tastes, Helen's containing a great many books, while her mother'sshould have easy-chairs and lounges, with a host of drawers for holdingthings. And Wilford heard it all, making no reply, but considering howhe could manage best so as to have no scene, for he had not theslightest intention of inviting either Mrs. Lennox or Helen to visithim, much less to become a part of his household. That he did not marryKaty's relatives was a fact as fixed as the laws of the Medes andPersians, and Katy's anticipations were answering no other purpose thanto divert her mind for the time being, keeping her bright and cheerful. 

Very pleasant indeed were the pictures Katy drew of the new house whereHelen was to come, but pleasanter far were her pictures of that visit toSilverton, to occur in April, and about which she thought so much, dreaming of it many a night, and waking in the morning with the beliefthat she had actually been where the young buds were swelling and thefresh grass was springing by the door. Poor Katy, how much she thoughtabout that visit when she should see them all and go again with UncleEphraim down into the meadows, making believe she was Katy Lennoxstill--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 usedto talk in the days which seemed so long ago. Morris she feared was notliking her as well as of old, thinking her very frivolous and silly, forhe had only written her one short note in reply to the letter she hadsent, telling him of the opera, the parties she attended, and the gay, happy life she led, for to him she would not then confess that in hercup of joy there was a single bitter dreg. All was bright and fair, shesaid, and Morris had replied that he was glad. "But do not forget thatdeath can find you even there amid your splendor, or that after deaththe judgment comes, and then what shall it profit you if you gain thewhole world and lose your own soul. "

These words had rung in Katy's ears for many a day, following her tothe dance and to the opera, where even the music was drowned by theecho of the words, "lose your own soul. " But the sting grew less andless, till Katy no longer felt it, and now was only anxious to talk withMorris and convince him that she was not as thoughtless as he mightsuppose, that she still remembered his teachings, remembered the Sundayschool and the little church in the valley, preferring it to thehandsome, aristocratic house where she went with the Camerons once onevery Sunday, and would willingly go twice if Wilford would go with her. But the Camerons were merely fashionable churchgoers, and so theirafternoons were spent at home, Katy enjoying them vastly because sheusually had Wilford all to herself in her own room, a thing which didnot often occur during the weekdays. 

There was a kind of peace to be made with Helen, too, Katy feared; forHelen had sent back the diamond ring, saying it was not suitable forher, but never hinting that she had drawn from Morris the inference thatWilford was not well pleased at having his wife thus dispose of hiscostly presents. Katy had cried when she received the ring, feeling thatsomething was wrong and longing so much for the time when she could makeit right. 

"One more week and then it is April, " she said to Wilford one eveningafter they had retired to their room, and she was talking of Silverton. "I guess I had better go about the tenth. Shall you stay as long as Ido?"

Wilford bit his lip, and after a moment replied:

"I have been talking with mother, and we think April is not a good timefor you to be in the country; it is so wet and cold. You had better nottill summer, and then I want you here to help order our furniture. "

"Oh, Wilford, " and Katy's voice trembled, for from past experienceshe knew that for Wilford to object to her plans was equivalent toa refusal, and her heart throbbed with disappointment as she triedto listen while Wilford urged many reasons why she should not go, convincing her at last that of all times for visiting Silverton springwas the worst, that summer or autumn were better, and that it was herduty to remain where she was until such time as he saw fit for her todo otherwise. 

This was the meaning of what he said, and though his manner was guardedand his words kind, they were very conclusive, and with one gasping sobKaty gave up Silverton, charging it more to Mrs. Cameron than toWilford, and writing next day to Helen that she could not come justthen, but after she was settled they might surely expect her. 

With a bitter pang Helen read this letter to the three women who had somuch anticipated Katy's visit, and each of whom cried quietly over herdisappointment, while even Uncle Ephraim went back to his work thatafternoon with a sad, heavy heart, for now his labor was not lightenedby thoughts of Katy's being there so soon. 

"Please God she may come to us some time, " he said, pausing beneath thebutternut in the meadow, and remembering just how Katy looked on thatfirst day of her return from Canandaigua, when she sat on the flat stonewhile he piled up the hay and talked with her of different paths throughlife, one of which she must surely tread. 

She had said, "I will choose the straight and pleasant, " and some wouldthink she had; but Uncle Ephraim was not so sure, and leaning against atree, he asked silently that, whether he ever saw his darling again ornot, 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 thus to separate Katyfrom the hearts which loved her so much: and, as if he felt reproached, there was an increased tenderness in his manner toward her, particularlyas he saw how sad she was for a few days after his decision. But Katycould not be sorry long, and in the excitement of settling the new househer spirits rallied, and her merry laugh thrilled like a bird throughthe rooms where the workmen were so busy, and where Mrs. Cameron was thereal superintendent, though there was always a show of consulting Katy, who nevertheless was a mere cipher in the matter. In everything themother had her way, until it came to the room designed for Helen, andwhich Mrs. Cameron was for converting into a kind of smoking or loungingroom for Wilford and his associates. Katy must not expect him to bealways as devoted to her as he had been during the winter, she said. Hehad a great many bachelor friends, and now that he had a house of hisown, it was natural that he should have some place where they couldspend 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 theparlors that the odor of the smoke could not reach them. 

"Oak and green will do nicely here, " turning to Wilford, "but you musthave some very handsome cigar sets, and one or two boxes of chess. ShallI see to that?"

Katy had submitted to much without knowing that she was submitting; butsomething Bell had dropped that morning had awakened a suspicion thatpossibly she was being ignored, and the wicked part of Helen would haveenjoyed the look in her eye as she said, decidedly, not to Mrs. Cameron, but to Wilford: "I have from the very first decided this chamber forHelen, and I cannot give it up for a smoking room. You never had oneat home. Why did you not, if it is so necessary?"

Wilford could not tell her that his mother would as soon have broughtinto her house one of Barnum's shows as to have had a room set apart forsmoking, which she specially disliked; neither could he at once reply atall, so astonished was he at this sudden flash of spirit. Mrs. Cameronwas the first to rally, and in her usual quiet tone she said: "Indeed, Idid not know that your sister was to form a part of your household. Whendo you expect her?" and her cold gray eyes rested steadily upon Katy, who never before so fully realized the distance there was between herhusband's friends and her own. But as the worm will turn when trampledon, so Katy, though hitherto powerless to defend herself, aroused inHelen's behalf, and in a tone as quiet and decided as that of hermother-in-law, replied: "She will come whenever I write for her. It wasarranged from the first. Wasn't it, Wilford?" and she turned to herhusband, who, unwilling to decide between a wife he loved and a motherwhose judgment he considered infallible, affected not to hear her, andstole from the room, followed soon by Mrs. Cameron, so that Katy wasleft 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 upso cosily that Wilford pronounced it the pleasantest room in the house, while Bell went into ecstasies over it, and even Juno might have unbentenough to praise it, were it not that Mark Ray, who from being tacitlyclaimed by Juno was frequently admitted to their counsels, had askedthe privilege of contributing to Helen's room a handsome volume ofGerman poetry, such as he fancied she might enjoy. So long as Mark'sattentions were not bestowed in any other quarter Juno was comparativelysatisfied, but the moment he swerved a hair's breadth from the line shehad marked out, her anger was aroused; and now, remembering hiscommendations of Helen Lennox, she hated her as cordially as one jealousgirl can hate another whom she has not seen, making Katy souncomfortable, without knowing what was the matter, that she hailed themorning 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 dinnerin her own handsome home her face shone with a joy which even thepresence of her mother-in-law could not materially lessen. She wouldrather have been alone with Wilford, it is true, but as her choice wasnot consulted she submitted cheerfully, proudly taking her rightfulplace at the table, and doing the honors so well that Mrs. Cameron, inspeaking of it to her daughters, acknowledged that Wilford had little tofear if Katy always appeared as much at ease as she did that day. Athought similar to this passed through the mind of Wilford, who was veryobservant of such matters, and that night, after his mother was gone, hewarmly commended Katy, but spoiled the pleasure his commendation wouldhave given by telling her next, as if one thought suggested the other, that Sybil Grandon had returned, that he saw her on Broadway, acceptingher invitation to a seat in her carriage which brought him to his door. She had made many inquiries concerning Katy, he said, expressing a greatcuriosity to see her, and saying that as she drove past the house thatmorning, she was strongly tempted to waive all ceremony and run in, knowing she should be pardoned for the sake of Auld Lang Syne, when shewas privileged to take liberties with the Camerons. All this Wilfordrepeated to Katy, but he did not tell her how at the words Auld LangSyne, Sybil had turned her fine eyes upon him with an expression whichmade him color, for he knew she was referring to the time when her nameand his were always coupled together. 

Wilford would not have exchanged Katy for a dozen Sybils, but there wasabout the latter a flash and sparkle very fascinating to most men, andWilford felt himself so much exhilarated in her society that he halfregretted leaving it, wishing as he did so that in some things Katy wasmore like the brilliant woman of the world, who, flashing upon him hermost bewitching smile, leaned back in her handsome carriage with acareless, easy abandon, while he ran up the steps of his own dwelling, where Katy waited for him. In this state of mind her achievement at thedinner table was exceedingly gratifying. Sybil herself could not havedone better. But alas, there were many points where Katy fell far belowthis standard; so after speaking of Sybil's inquiries for his wife, hewent on to talk of Sybil herself, telling how much she was admired andhow superior she was to the majority of ladies whom Katy had met, addingthat he felt more anxious that Katy should make a favorable impressionupon her than any one of his acquaintance, as she would be sure to notethe slightest departure from her code of etiquette. How Katy hated thewords etiquette, and style and manner, wishing they might be strickenfrom the language, and how she dreaded this Sybil Grandon, who seemed toher like some ogress, instead of the charming creature she was describedto be. Thoughts of the secret picture and the dread fancy did nottrouble her now, for she was sure of Wilford's love; but she hadsometimes dreaded the return of Sybil Grandon, and now that she hadcome, she felt for a moment a chill at her heart and a terror at meetingher which she tried to shake off, succeeding at last, for perfect faithin Wilford was to her a strong shield of defense, and her only troublewas a fear lest she should fall in the scale of comparison which mightbe instituted between herself and Mrs. Grandon. 

Nestling close to Wilford, she said, half earnestly, half playfully:

"I will try not to disgrace you when I meet this Mrs. Grandon. "

Then, anxious to change the conversation to something more agreeable toherself, she began to talk of their house, thus diverting her own mindfrom Sybil Grandon, who after a few days ceased to be a bugbear, Wilfordnever mentioning her again, and Katy only hearing of her through Junoand Bell, the first of whom went into raptures over her, while thelatter styled her a silly, coquettish widow, who would appear muchbetter to have worn her weeds a little longer, and not throw herselfquite so soon into the market. That she should of course meet her sometime, Katy knew, but she would not distress herself till the timearrived, and so she dismissed her fears, or rather lost them in theexcitement of her new dignity as mistress of a house. 

In her girlhood Katy had evinced a taste for housekeeping, which nowdeveloped so rapidly that she won the respect of all the servants, fromthe man who answered the bell to the accomplished cook, hired by Mrs. Cameron, and who, like most accomplished cooks, was sharp and cross andopinionated, but who did not find it easy to scold the blithe littlewoman who every morning came flitting into her dominions, not askingwhat they would have for dinner, as she had been led to suppose shewould, but ordering it with a matter of course air, which amused theusually overbearing Mrs. Phillips. But when the little lady, rolling hersleeves above her dimpled elbows and donning the clean white apron whichPhillips was reserving for afternoon, announced her intention ofsurprising Wilford, who was very particular about dessert, with apudding such as Aunt Betsy used to make, there were signs of rebellion, Phillips telling her bluntly that she couldn't be bothered--that it wasnot 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; thenwithout a word of reply to that worthy's remarks, said, quietly: "I haveonly six eggs here--the receipt is ten. Bring me four more, please. "

There was something in the blue eyes which compelled obedience, and thedessert progressed without another word of remonstrance. But when thedoor bell rang, and word came down that there were ladies in theparlor--Juno with some one else--Phillips would not tell her of theflour on her hair; and as Katy, after casting aside her apron andputting down her sleeves, only glanced hastily at herself in the hallmirror as she passed it, she appeared in the parlor with this mark uponher curls, and greatly to her astonishment was presented to "Mrs. SybilGrandon, " Juno explaining, that as Sybil was very anxious to see her, and they were passing the house, she had presumed upon her privilege asa sister and brought her in. 

For a moment the room turned dark, and Katy felt that she was falling;it was so sudden, so unexpected, and she so unprepared; but Sybil'sfamiliar manner soon quieted her, and she was able at last to look fullyat her visitor, finding her not as handsome as she expected, nor asyoung but in all other points she had not perhaps been exaggerated. Cultivated and self-possessed, she was still very pleasing in hermanner, 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 ofdeception, practicing it with so much skill that few saw through themask, and knew it was put on. 

To Katy she was very gracious, admiring her house, admiring herself, admiring everything, until Katy wondered how she could ever have dreadedto meet her, laughing and chatting as familiarly as if the fashionablewoman were not criticising every movement and every act and everyfeature of her face, wondering most at the flour upon her hair!

Juno wondered, too, but knowing Katy's domestic propensities, suspectedthe truth, and feigning some errand with Phillips, she excused herselffor a moment and descended to the kitchen, where she was not long inhearing about Katy's queer ways, coming where she was not needed, andmaking country puddings after some heathenish aunt's rule. 

"Was it Aunt Betsy?" Juno asked, her face betokening its disgust whentold that she was right, and her manner on her return to the parlor veryfrigid toward Katy, who had discovered the flour on her hair, and waslaughing merrily over it, telling Sybil how it happened--how crossPhillips was--and lastly, how "our folks" often made the pudding, andthat was why she wished to surprise Wilford with it. 

There was a sarcastic smile upon Sybil's lip as she wished Mrs. Cameronsuccess and then departed, leaving Katy to finish the dessert, which, when ready for the table, was certainly very inviting, and would havetempted the appetite of any man who had not been listener to mattersnot wholly conducive to his peace of mind. 

On his way home Wilford had stopped at his father's, finding Juno, whohad just come in, relating the particulars of her call upon his wife, and as she did not think it necessary to stop for him, he heard ofKaty's misdoings, and her general appearance in the presence of SybilGrandon, whom she entertained with a description of "our folks'"favorite dishes, together with Aunt Betsy's receipts. This was the strawtoo many, and since his marriage Wilford had not been as angry as he waswhile listening to Juno, who reported Sybil's verdict on his wife, "Adomestic little body and very pretty. "

Wilford did not care to have his wife domestic; he did not marry herfor that, and in a mood anything but favorable to the light, delicatedessert Katy had prepared with so much care, he went to his luxurioushome, where Katy ran as usual to meet him, her face brimming with thesurprise she had in store for him, and herself so much excited that shedid not at first observe the cloud upon his brow, as he moodily answeredher rapid questions. But when the important moment arrived, and thedessert was brought on, he promptly declined it, even after herexplanation that she made it herself, just to gratify and astonish him, urging him to try it for the sake of pleasing her, if nothing more. ButWilford was not hungry then, and even had he been, he would have chosenanything before a pudding formed from a receipt of Betsy Barlow, so thedessert was untasted even by Katy herself, who, knowing now thatsomething had gone wrong, sat fighting back her tears until the servantleft the room, when she timidly asked: "What is it, Wilford? What makesyou seem so--". She would not say cross, and substituted "queer, "while Wilford plunged at once into the matter by saying, "Juno tells meshe called here this afternoon with Mrs. Grandon. "

"Yes, I forgot to mention it, " Katy answered, feeling puzzled to knowwhy that should annoy her husband; but his next remarks disclosed thewhole, and Katy's tears flowed fast as Wilford asked what he supposedMrs. Grandon thought, to see his wife looking as if fresh from the flourbarrel, and to hear her talk about Aunt Betsy's receipts and our folks. "That is a bad habit of yours, Katy, " he continued, "one of which I wishyou to break yourself, if possible. I have never spoken to you directlyon the subject before, but it annoys me exceedingly, inasmuch as it isan indication of low breeding. "

There was no answer from Katy, whose heart was too full to speak, andso Wilford went on: "Our servants were selected by mother with a directreference to your youth and inexperience, and it is not necessary foryou to frequent the kitchen, or, indeed, to go there oftener than once aweek. Let them come to you for orders, not you go to them. Neither needyou speak quite so familiarly to them, treating them almost as if theywere your equals. Try to remember your true position, that whatever youmay have been you are now Mrs. Wilford Cameron, equal to any lady in NewYork. "

They were in the library now, and the soft May breeze came stealingthrough the open window, stirring the fleecy curtain and blowing acrossthe tasteful bouquet which Katy had arranged; but Katy was too wretchedto care for her surroundings. It was the first time Wilford had everspoken to her just in this way, and his manner hurt her more than hiswords, 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 wascruel thus to repay her attempts to please, and so, perhaps, Wilfordthought, as with folded arms he sat looking at her weeping so bitterlyupon the sofa; but he was too indignant to make any concession then, andhe suffered her to weep in silence until he remembered that his motherhad requested him to bring her around that evening, as they wereexpecting a few of Juno's friends, and among them Sybil Grandon. If Katywent he wished her to look her best, and he unbent so far as to try tocheck her tears. But Katy could not stop, and she wept so passionatelythat Wilford's anger subsided, leaving only tenderness and pity for thewife he tried so hard to soothe, telling her he was sorry, and suing forforgiveness, until the sobbing ceased, and Katy lay passively in hisarms, her face so white and the dark rings about her eyes showing sodistinctly that Wilford did not press her when she declined his mother'sinvitation. He could go, she said, urging so many reasons why heshould, that, for the first time since their marriage, he left heralone, and went to where Sybil Grandon smiled her sunniest smile, andput forth her most persuasive powers to keep him at her side, expressingso much regret that he did not bring his charming little wife, whocompletely won her heart, she was so childlike and simple-hearted, laughing so merrily when she discovered the flour on her hair, but notseeming to mind it in the least. Really, she did not see how it happenedthat he was fortunate enough to win such a domestic treasure. Where didhe find her?

If Sybil Grandon meant this to be complimentary it was not received assuch, Wilford almost grating his teeth with vexation as he listened toit, and feeling doubly mortified with Katy, whom he found waiting forhim, when at a late hour he left the society of Sybil Grandon andrepaired to his home. 

To Katy the time of his absence had seemed an age, for her thoughts hadbeen busy with the past, gathering up every incident connected with hermarried life since she came to New York, and deducing from them theconclusion that "Wilford's folks" were ashamed of her, and that Wilfordhimself might perhaps become so, if he were not already. That would beworse than death itself, and the darkest hours she had ever known werethose she spent alone that night, sobbing so violently as to bring on aracking headache, which showed itself upon her face and touched Wilfordat once. 

Sybil Grandon was forgotten in those moments of contrition, when heministered so tenderly to his suffering wife, whom he felt that he hadwronged. But somehow he could not tell her so then. It was not naturalfor him to confess his errors. There had already been a struggle betweenhis duty and his pride when he had done so, and now the latterconquered, especially as Katy, grown more calm, began to take thecensure to herself, lamenting her shortcomings, and promising to dobetter, even to the imitating of Sybil Grandon, if that would make himforget the past and love her as before. 

Wilford could accord forgiveness far more graciously than he could askit, and so peace was restored again, and Katy's face next day lookedbright and happy when seen in her new carriage, which took her downBroadway to Stewart's, where she encountered Sybil Grandon, and with herJuno Cameron. 

From the latter Katy instinctively shrank, but she could not resist theformer, who greeted her so familiarly that Katy readily forgave her thepain of which she had been the cause, and could even speak of her toWilford without a pang when he next came home to dinner. Still she couldnot overcome her dread of meeting her, and she grew more and more averseto mingling in society, where she might do many things to mortify herhusband or his family, and thus provoke a scene she hoped never again topass through. 

"Oh, if Helen were only here, " she thought, as she began to experience asensation of loneliness she had never felt before. 

But Helen was not there, nor yet coming there at present. One word fromWilford had settled that, convincing Katy that it was better to waituntil the autumn, inasmuch as they were going so soon to Saratoga andNewport, which Katy had so much wished to visit, but from which she nowshrank, especially after she knew that Mrs. Cameron and Juno were to beof the party, and probably Sybil Grandon. Katy did not dislike thelatter, but she was never quite easy in her presence, and was consciousof appearing to disadvantage whenever they were together, while shecould not deny to herself that since Sybil's return Wilford had not beenquite 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 vainto ascertain the cause. 

They were not as happy in the new home as she had expected to be, butthe fault did not lie with Katy. She performed well her part, and more, taking upon her young shoulders the whole of the burden which herhusband should have helped her bear. Housekeeping far more than boardingbrings out a husband's nature, for whereas in the latter case onerightfully demands the services for which he pays, in the former he issometimes expected to do and think, and even wait upon himself. But thiswas not Wilford's nature. The easy, indolent life he had led so long asa petted son of a partial mother unfitted him for care, and he was asmuch a boarder in his own home as he had ever been in the hotels inParis, thoughtlessly requiring of Katy more than he should haverequired, so that Bell was not far from right when in her journal shedescribed her sister-in-law as "a little servant whose feet were neversupposed to be tired, and whose wishes were never consulted. " It is trueBell had put it rather strongly, but the spirit of what she said wasright, Wilford seldom considering Katy, or allowing her wishes tointerfere with his own plans, while accustomed to every possibleattention from his mother, he exacted the same from his wife, whose lifewas not one of unmixed happiness, notwithstanding that every letter homebore assurance to the contrary. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

MARIAN HAZELTON. 

The last days of June had come, and Wilford was beginning to makearrangements for removing Katy from the city before the warmer weather. To this he had been urged by Mark Ray's remarking that Katy was notlooking as well as when he first saw her, one year ago, "She had grownthin and pale, " he said. "Had Wilford remarked it?"

Wilford had not. She complained much of headache; but that was onlynatural. Still he wrote to the Mountain House that afternoon to securerooms for himself and wife, and then at an earlier hour than usual wenthome to tell her of the arrangement. Katy was out shopping, Esther said, and had not yet returned, adding: "There is a note for her upstairs, left by a woman who insisted on seeing the house, until I took her overit, showing her every room. "

"A strange woman went over my house in Mrs. Cameron's absence! Who wasit?" Wilford asked, hastily, visions of Helen, or possibly Aunt Betsy, rising before his mind. 

"She said she was a friend of Mrs. Cameron, and that she knew she wouldallow the liberty, " Esther replied, thus confirming Wilford in hissuspicions that some country acquaintance had thrust herself upon them, and hastening up to Katy's room, where the note was lying, he took it upand examined the superscription, examined it closely, holding it up tothe light full a minute, and forgetting to open it in his perplexity andthe train of thought it awakened. 

"They are singularly alike, " he said, and still holding the note in hishand he went downstairs to the library, and opening a drawer of hiswriting desk, which was always kept locked, he took from it a pictureand 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 needed neither, for he knew wellwhose hand had penned those lines, and he sat looking at them, comparingthem at last with the "Mrs. Wilford Cameron" which the strange woman hadwritten. Then opening the note, he read that, having returned to NewYork, and wishing employment either as seamstress or dressmaker, MarianHazelton had ventured to call upon Mrs. Cameron, remembering her promiseto give her work if she should desire it. The note concluded by saying:

"I am sure you will pardon me for the liberty I took of going over thehouse. It was a temptation I could not resist. You have a delightfulhome. God grant you may be happy in it. You see I have also made boldto write this in your library, for which I beg pardon, "Yours truly, MARIAN HAZELTON, "No. ---- Fourth St. , 4th floor, N. Y. "

"Who is Marian Hazelton?" Wilford asked himself as he threw down themissive. "Some of Katy's country friends, I dare say. Seems to me I haveheard that name. She certainly writes as Genevra did, except that thisHazelton's is more decided and firm. Poor Genevra!"

There was a pallor about Wilford's lips as he said this, and taking upthe picture he gazed for a long time upon the handsome, girlish face, whose dark eyes seemed to look reproachfully upon him, just as they musthave looked when the words were penned: "God will never forgive thewrong you have done to me. "

"Genevra was mistaken, " he said. "At least, if God has not forgiven, hehas prospered me, which amounts to the same thing;" and without a singlethrob of gratitude to Him who had thus prospered him, Wilford laidGenevra's picture and Genevra's note back with the withered grass andflowers plucked from Genevra's grave, and then went again upstairs, justas Katy's ring was heard and Katy herself came in. 

As thoughts of Genevra always made Wilford kinder toward his wife, sonow he kissed her white cheek, noticing that, as Mark had said, it waswhiter than last year in June. But mountain air would bring back theroses, he thought, as he handed her the note. 

"Oh, yes, from Marian Hazelton, " Katy said, glancing first at the nameand then hastily reading it through. 

"Who is Marian Hazelton? Some intimate friend, I judge, from the libertyshe took. "

"Not very intimate, though I liked her so much, and thought her aboveher position, " Katy replied, repeating all she knew of Marian, and howshe chanced to know her at all. "Don't you remember Helen wrote that shefainted at our wedding, and I was so sorry, fearing I might haveoverworked her. "

Wilford did remember something about it, and satisfied that MarianHazelton had no idea of intruding herself upon them, except as she mightask for work, he dismissed her from his mind and told Katy of his planfor taking her to the Mountain House a few weeks before going toSaratoga. 

"Would you not like it?" he asked, as she continued silent, with hereyes fixed upon the window opposite. 

"Yes, " and Katy drew a long and weary breath. "I shall like any placewhere there are birds, and rocks, and trees, and real grass, such asgrows of itself in the country; but Wilford, " and Katy crept close tohim now, "if I might go to Silverton, I should get strong so fast. Youdon't know how I long to see home once more. I dream about it nights andthink about it days, knowing just how pleasant it is there, with theroses 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 lockall the softer avenues of his heart, and so he answered that theMountain House was preferable, that the rooms were engaged, and that ashe 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 fastlearning that quiet submission was better than useless opposition, andso Silverton was again given up. But there was one consolation. SeeingMarian Hazelton would be almost as good as going home, for had she notrecently come from that neighborhood, bringing with her the odor fromthe hills and freshness from the woods. Perhaps, too, she had latelyseen Helen or Morris at church, and had heard the music of the organwhich Helen played, and the singing of the children just as it sometimescame to Katy in her dreams, making her start in her sleep and murmursnatches of the sacred songs which Dr. Morris taught. Yes, Marian couldtell her of all this, and very impatiently Katy waited for the morningwhen she would drive around to Fourth Street with the piles of sewingshe was going to take to Marian. 

"Dear Marian, I wonder is she very poor?" Katy thought, as she next daymade her preparations for the call, and had Wilford been parsimoniouslyinclined, he might have winced could he have seen the numerous storesgathered up for Marian and packed away in the carriage with the bundleof cambric and linen and lace, all destined for that fourth-storychamber where Marian Hazelton sat that summer morning, looking drearilyout upon the dingy court and contrasting its sickly patch of grass, embellished with rain water barrels, coal hods and ash pails, with thecountry she had so lately left, the wooded hills and blooming gardens ofSilverton, which had been her home for nearly two years. 

It was a fault of Marian's not to remain long contented in any place, and so tiring of the country she had returned to the great city, urgedon by a strange desire it may be to see Mrs. Wilford Cameron, to knowjust how she lived, to judge if she were happy, and perhaps--some timesee Wilford Cameron, herself unknown, for not for the world would shehave met face to face the man who had so often stood by GenevraLambert's grave in the churchyard beyond the sea. Thinking she mightsucceed better alone, she had hired a room far up the narrow stairway ofa high, somber-looking building, and then from her old acquaintances, ofwhom she had several in the city, she had solicited work. More than onceshe had passed the handsome house on Madison Square where Katy lived, walking slowly and gazing with dim eyes which could not weep at WilfordCameron's luxurious home, and contrasting it with hers, that one room, which yet was not wholly uninviting, for where Marian went there wasalways an air of humble comfort; and Katy, as she crossed the threshold, uttered an exclamation of delight at the cheerful, airy aspect of theapartment, with its bright ingrain carpet, its simple shades of white, its chintz-covered lounge, its one rocking-chair, its small parlorstove, and its pots of flowers upon the broad window sill. 

"Oh, Marian, " she exclaimed, tripping across the floor, and impulsivelythrowing her arms around Miss Hazelton's neck, "I am so glad to meetsome one from home. It seems almost like Helen I am kissing, " and herlips again met those of Marian Hazelton, who amid her own joy at findingKaty 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 inher rich basquine and pretty hat, with emeralds and diamonds sparklingon her fingers, she sat down by Marian, whose hands, though delicate andsmall, showed marks of labor such as Katy had never known. 

"You must forgive me for going over your house, " Marian said, after theyhad talked together a moment, and Katy had told how sorry she was tomiss the call. "I could not resist the temptation, and it did me so muchgood, although I must confess to a good cry when I came back and thoughtof the difference between us. "

There was a quiver of her lip and a tone in her voice which touchedKaty's heart, and she tried to comfort her, forgetting entirely whetherwhat she said was proper or not, and impetuously letting out that evenin houses like hers there was trouble. Not that she was unhappy in theleast, for she was not; but, oh! the fuss it was to be fashionable andkeep from doing anything to shock his folks, who were so particularabout every little thing, even to the way she tied her bonnet and satin a chair. 

This was what Katy said, and Marian, looking straight into Katy's face, felt that she would not exchange places with the young girl-wife whom somany envied. 

"Tell me of Silverton, " was Katy's next remark. "You don't know howI want to go there; but Wilford does not think it best--that is, atpresent. Next fall I am surely going. I picture to myself just how itwill look; Morris' garden, full of the autumnal flowers--the ripepeaches in our orchard, the grapes ripening on the wall, and the longshadows on the grass, just as I used to watch them, wondering what madethem 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'seager eyes looked wistfully at Marian, who replied: "Not always--notoften, 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; butthis 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 Helenmade my wedding dress. Darling Helen! When did you see her last?"

"I was there five weeks ago, " Marian replied. "I saw them all, and toldthem 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. Hehas grown very silent and reserved, " and Marian's eyes were fixedinquiringly upon Katy, as if to ascertain how much she knew of thecause for Morris' reserve. 

But Katy had no suspicion, and only replied: "Perhaps he is vexed thatI do not write to him oftener, but I can't. I think of him a great deal, and sometimes have so wished I could sit in his public library, andforget that there are such things as dinner parties, where you are inconstant terror lest you should do something wrong--evening parties, where your dress and style are criticised--receptions or calls, and allthe things which make me so confused. Morris could always quiet me. Itrested me just to hear him talk, and I respect him more than any livingman, except, of course, Wilford; but when I try to write, somethingcomes in between me and what I wish to say, for I want to convince himthat I am not as frivolous as I fear he thinks I am. I have notforgotten the Sunday school, nor the church service, which I so loved tohear, especially when Morris read it, as he did in Mr. Browning'sabsence; but in the city it is so hard to be good, particularly when oneis not, you know--that is, good like you and Helen and Morris--and theservice and music seem all for show, and I feel so hateful when I seeJuno and Wilford's mother making believe, and putting their heads downon velvet cushions, knowing as I do that they both are thinking eitherof their own bonnets or those just in front. "

"Are you not a little uncharitable?" Marian asked, laughing in spite ofherself at the picture Katy drew of fashion trying to imitate religionin its humility. 

"Perhaps so, " Katy answered. "I grow bad from looking behind the scenes, and the worst is that I do not care. But tell me, do you think Morrislikes me less than formerly?"

Marian did not, and assured on that point, Katy went back to thefarmhouse, asking numberless questions about its inmates, and at lastcoming to the business which had brought her to Marian's room. 

There were perceptible spots on Marian's neck, and her lips were verywhite, while her hands grasped the bundles tossed into her lap--theyards and yards of lace and embroidery, linen, and cambric, which shewas expected to make for the wife of Wilford Cameron; and her voice washusky 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'sagitation, and tried to divert her mind by telling her as delicately aspossible that she had brought with her sundry stores of which she hadsuch an abundance. 

"I knew you were not an object of charity, " she said, as she saw theflush on Marian's brow, "but when I have so much I like to share it withothers, and you seem like our folks. "

"Did Wilf--did Mr. Cameron know?" Marian asked, and Katy answered "No;but it does not matter. He lets me do as I like in these matters, andthe greatest pleasure I have is giving. You are not offended?" shecontinued, as she saw a tear drop from Marian's eyelids. 

"No--oh, no, " and Marian quietly laid aside the packages which wouldfind their way to many an humble garret or cellar, where biting povertyhad its abode. 

It would choke her to eat whatever came from Wilford Cameron, but shecould not tell Katy so, though she did say: "I will keep these becauseyou brought them, but do not do so again. There are many far more needy. I saved something in Silverton. I shall not suffer so long as my healthis spared. "

Then after a few more inquiries concerning the work, about which shecould now talk calmly, she asked where Katy went when she was abroad, her blue eyes growing almost black as Katy talked of Rome, of Venice, ofParis, and then of Alnwick, where they had stopped so long. 

"By the way, you were born in England? Were you ever at Alnwick?" Katyasked, and Marian replied: "Once, yes. I've seen the castle and thechurch. Did you go there--to St. Mary's, I mean?"

"Oh, yes, and I was never tired of that old churchyard, Wilford likedit, too, and we wandered by the hour among the sunken graves and quaintheadstones. "

"Do you remember any of the names upon the stones? Perhaps I may knowthem?" Marian asked; but Katy did not remember any, or if she did, itwas not "Genevra Lambert, aged twenty-two. " And so Marian asked her nomore questions concerning St. Mary's, at Alnwick, but talked instead ofLondon and other places, until three hours went by, and down in thestreet the coachman chafed and fretted at the long delay, wandering whatkept his mistress in that neighborhood so long. Had she friends, or hadshe 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. Butwhen, as they turned into the avenue, Katy called to him to stop, bidding him drive back, as she had forgotten something, he showedunmistakable signs of irritation, but nevertheless obeyed, and Katy wassoon mounting a second time to the fourth story of No. ----, where MarianHazelton knelt upon the floor, her head resting upon the costly fabricsand her frame quivering with the anguish of the sobs which reachedKaty's ear even before she opened the unbolted door. 

"What is it, Marian?" she asked, in great distress, while Marian, struggling to her feet, remained for a moment speechless. 

She had not expected Katy to return, else she had never given way as shedid, calling on her God to help her bear what she now knew she was notprepared to bear. She had thought the heart struggle conquered, and thatshe could calmly look upon Wilford Cameron's wife; but the sight ofKaty, together with the errand on which she came, had unnerved her, andshe wept bitterly in her desolation, until Katy's reappearance startledher from her position on the floor, making her stammer out some excuseabout "homesickness and the seeing Katy bringing back the past. "

Very lovingly Katy tried to comfort her, putting into her manner justenough of pretty patronage to amuse without annoying Marian, who soongrew calm, and then listened while Katy told why she returned. Shefeared she had talked too much of her own affairs--too much of hisfolks, who, after all, were nice, kind people, and she came to takeit back, asking Marian never to speak of it, as it might get to themindirectly, and Wilford would be angry. 

With a smile, as she thought how improbable it was that anything said toher up in that humble room should reach to No. ---- Fifth Avenue, Marianpromised silence; and with a good-by kiss, given to convince Marian thatshe was not proud, Katy again departed, and was soon driving towardMadison Square. She was very happy that morning, for seeing Marian hadbrought Silverton near to her, and airy as a bird she ran up the stepsof her own dwelling, where the door opened as by magic, and Wilfordhimself confronted her, asking, with the tone which always made herheart 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, hecontinued when she tried to explain. Ten minutes would suffice fordirections, and he could not imagine what attractions there were in MissHazelton to keep her there three hours, and then the real cause of hisvexation came out. He had come expressly for the carriage to take herand Sybil Grandon to a picnic up the river, whither his mother, Juno andBell had already gone. Mrs. Grandon must wonder why he stayed so long, and perhaps give up going. Could Katy be ready soon; and Wilford walkedrapidly up and down the parlor as he talked, with a restless motion ofhis hands which always betokened impatience. Poor Katy, how thebrightness of the morning faded, and how averse she felt to joining thatpicnic, which she knew had been in prospect for some time, and hadfancied she should enjoy. But not to-day, not with that cold, proud lookon Wilford's face, and the feeling that he was vexed. Still she couldthink of no reasonable excuse, and so an hour later found her drivinginto the country with Sybil Grandon, who received her apologies with asmuch good-natured grace as if she had not worked herself into a passionat the delay, for Sybil had been very cross and impatient; but all thisvanished when she met Wilford and saw that he, too, was disturbed andirritated. Soft and sweet and smooth was she both in word and manner, sothat by the time the pleasant grove was reached Wilford's ruffledspirits had been soothed, and he was himself again, ready to enjoy thepleasures of the day as keenly as if no harsh word had been said toKaty, who, silent and unhappy, listened to the graceful badinage betweenSybil and her husband, thinking how differently his voice had soundedwhen addressing her only a little while before. 

"Pray put some animation into your face, or Mrs. Grandon will certainlythink we have been quarreling, " Wilford whispered, as he lifted his wifefrom the carriage, and with a great effort Katy tried to be gay andnatural. 

But all the while was she fighting back her tears and wishing she wereaway. Even Marian's room, looking into the dingy court, was preferableto that place, and she was glad when the long day came to an end, andshe with a fearful headache was riding back to the city. 

The next morning was dark and rainy; but in spite of the weather Katyfound her way to Marian's room, this time taking the ---- avenue cars, which left her independent as regarded the length of her stay. AboutMarian there was something more congenial than about her city friends, and day after day found her there, watching while Marian fashioned intoshape the beautiful little garments, the sight of which had over Katy astrangely quieting influence, sobering her down and maturing her morethan all the years of her life had done. Those were happy hours spentwith Marian Hazelton, the happiest of the entire day, and Katy felt itkeenly when Wilford at last interfered, telling her she was growingquite too familiar with that sewing woman, and her calls had best bediscontinued, except, indeed, such as were necessary to the work inprogress. 

There was a grieved look on Katy's face, but she uttered no word ofremonstrance; while her husband went on to say, that of course he didnot wish to be unreasonable, nor interfere between her and heracquaintances as a general thing, but when the acquaintance chosen was asewing woman, whose antecedents no one knew, and whose society could notbe improving, the case was different. 

After this there were no more mornings spent in Marian's room, no moretalks of Silverton and Morris Grant; talks which did Katy a world ofgood, and kept her heart open to better influences, which mightotherwise have been wholly choked and destroyed by the life she sawaround her. With one great gush of tears, when there was no one to seeher, Katy gave Marian up, writing her a note, in which were sundrydirections for the work, which would go on even after she had left forthe Mountain House, as she intended doing the last of June. And Marian, reading this note, guessed at more than Katy meant she should, and witha bitter sigh laid it in her basket, and then resumed the work, whichseemed doubly monotonous now that there was no more listening for thelittle feet tripping up the stairs, or for the bird-like voice which hadbrought 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 strongerevery day, until now she was much like the Katy of one year ago, andWilford was very proud of her, as he saw how greatly she was admired bythose whose admiration he deemed worth having. But their stay among theCatskills was ended, and on the morrow they were going to Saratoga, where Mrs. Cameron and her daughter were, and where, too, was SybilGrandon, the reigning belle of the United States. So Bell had written toher brother, bidding him hasten on with Katy, as she wished to see "thatchit of a widow in her proper place. " And Katy had been weak enough fora moment to feel a throb of satisfaction in knowing how effectuallySybil's claims to belleship would be put aside when she was once in thefield; even glancing at herself in the mirror as she leaned on Wilford'sshoulder, and feeling glad that mountain air and mountain exercise hadbrought the roses back to her white cheeks and the brightness to hereyes. But Katy wept passionate tears of repentance for that weakness, when an hour later she read the letter which Dr. Grant had sent inanswer to one she had written from the Mountain House, and in which shehad told him much of her life in New York, confessing her shortcomings, and lamenting that the evils and excesses which shocked her once did notstartle her now. To this letter Morris had replied as a brother mightwrite to an only sister, first expressing his joy at her happiness, andthen coming to the subject which lay nearest his heart, warning heragainst temptation, reminding her of that other life to which this isonly a preparation, and beseeching her so to use the good things of thisworld, given her in such profusion, as not to lose the life eternal. 

This was the substance of Morris' letter, which Katy read withstreaming eyes, forgetting Saratoga as Morris' solemn words of warningand admonition rang in her ears, and shuddering as she thought of losingthe life eternal of going where Morris would never come, nor any ofthose she loved the best, unless it were Wilford, who might reproach herwith having dragged him there when she could have saved him. 

"Keep yourself unspotted from the world, " Morris had said, and sherepeated it to herself, asking: "How shall I do that? How can one begood and fashionable, too?"

Then laying her hand upon the rock where she was sitting, Katy tried topray as she had not prayed in months, asking that God would teach herwhat she ought to know, and keep her unspotted from the world. But atthe Mountain House it is easier to pray that one be kept from temptationthan it is at Saratoga, which this summer was crowded to overflowing, its streets presenting a fitting picture of Vanity Fair, so full werethey of show and gala dress. At the United States, where Mrs. Cameronstopped, two rooms, for which an enormous price was paid, had beenreserved for Mr. And Mrs. Wilford Cameron, and this of itself would havegiven them a certain _éclat_, even if there had not been present manywho remembered the proud, fastidious bachelor, and were proportionatelyanxious to see his wife. She came, she saw, she conquered; and withinthree days after her arrival Katy Cameron was the acknowledged belle ofSaratoga, from the United States to the Clarendon. And Katy, alas! wasnot quite the same who on the mountain ridge had sat with Morris' letterin her hand, praying that its teachings might not be all forgotten. Norwere they, but she did not heed them here where all was so bright andgay, and where the people thought her so perfect. Saratoga seemeddifferent to her from New York, and she plunged into its gayeties, neverpausing, never tiring, and seldom giving herself time to think, muchless to pray, as Morris had bidden her do. And Wilford, though hardlyable to recognize the usually timid Katy in the brilliant woman who ledrather than followed, was sure of her faith to him, and so was onlyproud and gratified to see her bear off the palm from every competitor, while even Juno, though she quarreled with the shadow into which shewas so completely thrown, enjoyed the _éclat_ cast upon their party bythe presence of Mrs. Wilford, who had passed beyond her criticism. SybilGrandon, too, stood back in wonder that a simple country girl should winand wear the laurels she had so long claimed as her own; but as therewas no help for it she contented herself as best she could with theadmiration she did receive, and whenever opportunity occurred, saidbitter things of Mrs. Wilford, whose parentage and low estate werethrough her pretty generally known. But it did not matter there whatKaty had been; the people took her for what she was now, and Sybil'sglory 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 greatly enjoyed her notoriety, Katy plunged intothe mad excitement of dancing and driving and coquetting, until Wilfordhimself became uneasy, locking her once in her room, where she wassleeping after dinner, and conveniently forgetting to release her untilafter the departure at evening of some young men from Cambridge, whoseattentions to the Ocean House belle had been more strongly marked thanwas altogether agreeable to him. Of course it was a mistake--the lockingof the door--and a great oversight in him not to have remembered itsooner, he said to Katy, by way of apology; and Katy, with no suspicionof the truth, laughed merrily at the joke, repeating it downstairs tothe old dowagers, who shrugged their shoulders meaningly and whisperedto each other that it might be well if more young, handsome wives werelocked into their rooms and thus kept out of mischief. 

Though flattered, caressed and admired, Katy was not doing herself muchcredit at Newport, but after Wilford there was no one to raise a warningvoice, until Mark Ray came down for a few days' respite from the heatedcity, where he spent the entire summer, taking charge of the businesswhich 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 timewould come by and by. And so he had remained at home until the last ofAugust, when he appeared suddenly at the Ocean House one night whenKaty, in her airy robes and childlike simplicity, was breaking hearts bythe score. Like others, Mark was charmed, and not a little proud, forKaty's sake, to see her thus appreciated; but when one day's experiencehad shown him more and given him a look behind the scenes, he trembledfor her, knowing how hard it would be for her to come out of that sea ofdissipation as pure and spotless as she went in. 

"If I were her brother I would warn her that her present career, thoughvery delightful now, is not one upon which she will look back withpleasure when the excitement is over, " he said to himself; "but ifWilford is satisfied it is not for me to interfere. It is surely nothingto me what Katy Cameron does, " he kept repeating to himself; but asoften 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 voicewhispered to him: "Save Katy, for my sake;" and so next day, when Markfound himself alone with Katy, while most of the guests were at thebeach, he questioned her of her life at Saratoga and Newport, andgradually, as he talked, there crept into Katy's heart a suspicion thathe was not altogether pleased with her account, or with what he had seenof her since his arrival. 

For a moment Katy was indignant, but when he said to her kindly: "WouldHelen he pleased?" her tears started at once, and she attempted anexcuse for her weak folly, accusing Sybil Grandon as the first cause ofthe ambition for which she hated herself. 

"She had been held up as my pattern, " she said, half bitterly, andforgetting to whom she was talking--"she the one whom I was to imitate;and when I found that if I would I could go beyond her, I yielded to thetemptation, and exulted to see how far she was left behind. Besidesthat, " she continued, "is it no gratification, think you, to letWilford's proud mother and sister see the poor country girl, whomordinarily they would despise, stand where they cannot come, and evendictate to them if she chooses so to do? I know it is wrong--I know itis wicked--but I rather like the excitement, and so long as I am withthese people I shall never be any better. Mark Ray, you don't know whatit is to be surrounded by a set who care for nothing but fashion anddisplay, 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 ofwomanhood, as if in that outburst she had changed, and would never againbe just what she was before. 

"Say, " she continued, "do you like New York society?"

"Not always--not wholly, " Mark answered; "and still you misjudge itgreatly, for all are not like the people you describe. Your husband'sfamily represent one extreme, while there are others equally high in thesocial scale who do not make fashion the rule of their lives--sensible, cultivated, intellectual people, of whose acquaintance one might beglad--people whom I fancy your Sister Helen would enjoy. I have only mether twice, it is true, but my impression is that she would not find NewYork utterly 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 some 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 incase Helen came, he, too, could tarry for a week and leave that businessin Southbridge, which he must attend to ere returning to the city. 

It would be a study to watch Helen Lennox there at Newport, and inimagination Mark was already her sworn knight, shielding her fromcriticism, and commanding her respect from those who respected him, whenKaty tore his castle down by answering impulsively:

"I doubt if Wilford would let me send for her here, nor does it matter, as I shall not remain much longer. I do not need her now, since you haveshowed me how foolish I have been. I was angry at first, but now I thankyou for it, and so would 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 asMark had said all he had intended saying, and even more, he left Katywith Wilford, who had just come in and joined a merry party ofBostonians only that day arrived. That night at the Ocean House theguests missed something from their festivities; the dance was not soexhilarating or the small-talk between them so lively, while more thanone white-kidded dandy swore mentally at the innocent Wilford, whosewife declined to join in the gayeties, and in a plain white muslin, withonly a pond lily in her hair, kept by her husband's side, notwithstanding that he more than once bade her leave him and acceptsome of her numerous invitations to join the giddy dance. This soberphase of Katy did not on the whole please Wilford as much as her gayerones had done. Perfectly sure of her devotion to himself, he liked towatch her as she glided amid the throng which paid her so much homage. All he had ever dreamed of the sensation his bride would create was morethan verified. Katy had fulfilled his highest expectations, reaching apoint from which, as she had said to Mark, she could even dictate to hismother, if she chose, and he did not care to see her relinquish it. 

But Katy remained true to herself. Dropping her girlish playfulness sheassumed a quiet, gentle dignity, which became her even better than hergayer mood had done, making her ten times more popular and more soughtafter, until she begged to go away, persuading Wilford at last to namethe day for their departure, and then, never doubting for a moment thather destination was Silverton, she wrote to Helen that she was coming onsuch 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 asthe mail is just closing, I shall send this letter without his seeingit. Of course it can make no difference, for I have talked all summer ofcoming, and he understands it. "

CHAPTER XX. 

MARK RAY AT SILVERTON. 

The last day of summer was dying out in a fierce storm of rain whichswept in sheets across the Silverton hills, hiding the pond fromview, and beating the windows of the farmhouse, whose inmates werenevertheless unmindful of the storm save as they hoped the morrow wouldprove bright and fair, such as the day should be which brought them backtheir Katy. Nearly worn out with constant reference was her letter, themother catching it up from time to time to read the part referring toherself, the place where Katy had told how blessed it would be "to restagain on mother's bed, " just as she had often wished to do, "and hearmother's voice;" the deacon spelling out by his spluttering tallowcandle, with its long, smoky wick, what she had said of "darling oldUncle Eph, " and the rides into the fields which she should have withhim; Aunt Betsy, too, reading mostly from memory the words: "Good oldAunt Betsy, with her skirts so limp and short, tell her she will lookhandsomer to me than the fairest belle at Newport;" and as often as AuntBetsy read it she would ejaculate: "The land! what kind of company mustthe child have kept?" wondering next if Helen had never written of thehoop, for which she had paid a dollar, and which was carefully hung inher closet, waiting for the event of to-morrow, while the hem of herpongee had been let down and one breadth added to accommodate the hoop. On the whole, Aunt Betsy expected to make a stylish appearance beforethe little lady of whom she stood slightly in awe, always speaking ofher to the neighbors as "My niece, Miss Cameron, from New York, " andtaking good care to report what she had heard of "Miss Cameron's" costlydress and the grandeur of her house, where the furniture of the bestchamber cost over fifteen hundred dollars. 

"What could it be--gold?" Aunt Betsy had asked in her simplicity, feeling an increased respect for Katy, and consenting the more readilyto 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 adotted brown, whose hem just reached the top of her "bootees, " as shestood by the window, wondering, first, if the rain would ever stop, andwondering, secondly, where all them fish worms, squirming on the grassby the back door, did come from. Needn't tell her they crawled out ofthe ground; she knew better--they rained from the clouds, though sheshould s'pose that somebody would sometime have catched one on theirbunnet or umberill. Dammed if she didn't mean to stand out o' doors someday till she was wet to the skin, and see what would come, and havingthus settled a way by which to decide the only question, except that ofthe "'Piscopal Church and its quirks, " on which she was still obstinate, Aunt Betsy went to strain the milk just brought by Uncle Ephraim, whileHelen took her position near the window, looking drearily out upon theleaden clouds, and hoping it would brighten before the morrow. Like theothers, Helen had read Katy's letter many times, dwelling longest uponthe part which said: "I have been so bad, so frivolous and wicked hereat 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 at Silverton, who had spent a few days at a private housein Newport, Helen had heard something of her sister's life; the lady hadseen her once driving a tandem team, or as Aunt Betsy had it, "drivingtanterum, " down the avenue, with Wilford at her side giving herinstructions. Since then there had been some anxiety felt for her at thefarmhouse, and more than Dr. Grant had prayed that she might be keptunspotted from the world; but when her letter came, so full of love andself-reproaches, the burden was lifted, and there was nothing to marthe anticipations of the events for which they had made so manypreparations, Uncle Ephraim going to the expense of buying at auction ahalf-worn, covered buggy, which he fancied would suit Katy better thanthe corn-colored wagon in which Katy used to ride. To pay for this thedeacon had parted with the money set aside for the "greatcoat" he somuch needed for the coming winter, his old gray one having done himservice for fifteen years. But his comfort was nothing compared withKaty's happiness, and so, with his wrinkled face beaming with delight, he had brought home his buggy, which he designated a carriage, puttingit carefully in the barn, and saying no one should ride in it tillKaty came, the corn-color was good enough for them, but Katy wasdifferent--Katy was Mrs. Cameron, and used to something better. Withuntiring patience the old man mended up his harness, for what he hadheard of Katy's driving had impressed him strongly with her powers ofhorsemanship, and, truth to tell, raised her somewhat in his respect. Could he have afforded it Uncle Ephraim in his younger days would havebeen a horse jockey, and even now he liked nothing better than to makeOld Whitey run when alone in the strip of woods between the house andthe head of the pond. 

"Katy inherits her love of horses from me, " he said, complacently, andwith a view of improving Whitey's style and metal, he took to feedinghim on corn and oats, talking to him at times, and telling him who wascoming. 

Dear, simple-hearted Uncle Ephraim, the days which he must wait seemedlong to him as they did to the female portion of his family, to Mrs. Lennox, Aunt Hannah and Aunt Betsy, who each did what she could to makethe house attractive. They were ready for Katy at last, or could beearly on the morrow, and with the shutting in of night the candles werelighted in the sitting-room, and Helen sat down to her work, wishing itwas to-night that Katy was coming. As if in answer to her wish there wasthe sound of wheels, which stopped before the house, and dropping herwork, Helen ran quickly to the door, just as from under the drippingumbrella 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 tokeep 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 themud-bespattered vehicle was rapidly moving down the road ere Helen hadrecovered her surprise at recognizing Mark Ray, who shook the raindropsfrom his hair, and offering her his hand said in reply to herinvoluntary exclamation: "I thought it was Katy. " "Shall I infer, then, that I am the less welcome?" and his bright, saucy eyes lookedlaughingly into hers. "Business had brought him to Southbridge, " hesaid, "and it was his intention to take the cars that afternoon for NewYork, but having been detained longer than he expected, and not likingthe looks of the hotel arrangements, he had decided to presume upon hisacquaintance with Dr. Grant and spend the night at Linwood. But, " andagain his eyes looked straight at Helen, "it rained so hard and thelight from your window was so inviting that I ventured to stop, so hereI am, claiming your hospitality until morning, if convenient; if not, Iwill find my way to Linwood. "

There was something in this pleasant familiarity which won Uncle Ephraimat once, and he bade the young man stay, as did Aunt Hannah and Mrs. Lennox, who now for the first time were presented to Mark Ray. Alwayscapable of adapting himself to the circumstances around him, Mark did sonow with so much ease and courteousness as to astonish Helen, and partlythaw the reserve she had assumed when she found the visitor was from thehated city. 

"Are you expecting Mrs. Cameron?" he asked, adding as Helen explainedthat she was coming to-morrow: "That is strange. Wilford wrote decidedlythat he should be in New York to-morrow. Possibly, though, he does notintend himself to stop. "

"I presume not, " Helen replied, a weight suddenly lifting from her heartat the prospect of not having to entertain the formidable brother-in-lawwho, if he stayed long, would spoil all her pleasure. 

Thus at her ease on this point, she grew more talkative, half wishingthat her dress was not a shilling calico, or her hair combed back quiteso straight, giving her that severe look which Morris had said wasunbecoming. It was very smooth and glossy, and even Sybil Grandon wouldhave given her best diamond to have had in her own natural right thelong heavy coil of hair bound so many times around the back of Helen'shead, ornamented with neither ribbon, comb, nor bow--only a singlegeranium leaf, with a white and scarlet blossom, was fastened justbelow the ear, and on the side where Mark could see it best, admiringits effect and forgetting the arrangement of the hair in his admirationof the well-shaped head, bending so industriously over the work whichHelen had resumed--not crocheting, nor yet embroidery, but the veryhomely work of darning Uncle Ephraim's socks, a task which Helen alwaysdid, and on that particular night. Helen knew it was not delicateemployment and there was a moment's hesitancy as she wondered what Markwould think--then with a grim delight in letting him see that she didnot care, she resumed her darning needle, and as a kind of penance ofthe flash of pride in which she had indulged, selected from the basketthe very coarsest, ugliest sock she could find, stretching out the hugefracture at the heel to its utmost extent, and attacking it with a rightgood will, while Mark, with a comical look on his face, sat watchingher. She knew he was looking at her, and her cheeks were growing veryred, 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 onTuesday nights. "

"Your mother mend socks!" and Helen started so suddenly as to run thepoint of her darning needle a long way into her thumb, the woundbringing a stream of blood which she tried to wipe away with herhandkerchief. 

"Bind it tightly around. Let me show you, please, " Mark said, and ereshe was aware of what she was doing Helen was quietly permitting theyoung man to wind her handkerchief around her thumb which he held in hishand, pressing it until the blood ceased flowing, and the sharp pain hadabated. 

Perhaps Mark Ray liked holding that small, warm hand, even though itwere not as white and soft as Juno's; at all events he did hold it untilHelen drew it from him with a quick, sudden motion, telling him it wouldnow do very well, and she would not trouble him. Mark did not look as ifhe had been troubled, but went back to his seat and took up theconversation 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 knowhow to do everything pertaining to a household, and she carried out hertheory in the education of my sister. "

"Have you a sister?" Helen asked, now really interested, and listeningintently 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, andhis mother was there with her. "After Julia's marriage, nine years ago, mother went to live with her, " he said, "but latterly, as the littleErnsts increase so fast, she wishes for a more quiet home, and thiswinter she is coming to New York to keep house for me. "

Helen thought she might like Mark's mother, who, he told her, had beentwice married, and was now Mrs. Banker, and a widow. She must bedifferent from Mrs. Cameron; and Helen let herself down to anotherdegree of toleration for the man whose mother taught her daughter tomend the family socks. Still there was about her a chilling reserve, which Mark wondered at, for it was not thus that ladies were accustomedto receive his advances. He did not guess that Wilford Cameron stoodbetween him and Helen's good opinion; but when, after the family camein, the conversation turned upon Katy and her life in New York, thesecret came out in the sharp, caustic mariner with which she spoke ofNew York and its people. 

"It's Will and the Camerons, " Mark thought, blaming Helen less than hewould have done, if he, too, had not known something of the Cameronpride. 

It was a novel position in which Mark found himself that night; aninmate of a humble farmhouse, where he could almost touch the ceilingwith his hand, and where his surroundings were so different from what hehad been accustomed to; but, unlike Wilford Cameron, he did not wishhimself away, nor feel indignant at Aunt Betsy's odd, old-fashionedways, or Uncle Ephraim's grammar. He noticed Aunt Betsy's oddities, itis true, and noticed Uncle Ephraim's grammar, too; but the sight ofHelen sitting there, with so much dignity and self-respect, made himlook beyond all else, straight into her open face and clear brown eyes, where there was nothing obnoxious or distasteful. Her grammar wascorrect, her manner, saving a little stiffness, ladylike and refined;and Mark rather enjoyed his situation as self-invited guest, makinghimself so agreeable that Uncle Ephraim forgot his hour of retiring, nordiscovered his mistake until, with a loud yawn, Aunt Betsy told him thatit was half-past nine, and she was "desput sleepy. "

Owing to Helen's influence there had been a change of the olden customs, and instead of the long chapter, through which Uncle Ephraim used toplod so wearily, there was now read the Evening Psalms, Aunt Betsyherself joining in the reading, which she mentally classed with the"quirks, " but confessed to herself that it "was most as good as theBible. "

As there were only Prayer Books enough for the family, Helen, indistributing them, purposely passed Mark by, thinking he might not careto join them. But he did, and when the verse came around to Helen hequickly 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 herhair, and her hand so near to Mark's trembled visibly. 

"A right nice chap, and not an atom stuck up, " was Aunt Betsy's mentalcomment, and then, as he often will do, Satan followed the saintly womaneven to her knees, making her wonder if "Mr. Ray hadn't some notionafter Helen. " She hoped not, for she meant that Morris should haveHelen, "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 prayerended, and the conscience-smitten woman arose from her knees with theconviction that "the evil one had got the better of her once, " mentallyasking pardon for her wandering thoughts, and promising to do better. 

Mark was in no haste to retire, and when Uncle Ephraim offered toconduct him to his room, he frankly answered that he was not sleepy, adding, as he turned to Helen: "Please let me stay until Miss Lennoxfinishes her socks. There are several pairs yet undarned. I will notdetain you, though, " he continued, bowing to Uncle Ephraim, who, alittle uncertain what to do, finally departed, as did Aunt Hannah andhis sister, leaving Helen and her mother to entertain Mark Ray. It hadbeen Mrs. Lennox's first intention to retire also, but a look fromHelen detained her, and she sat down by that basket of socks, while Markwished her away. Still it was proper for her to remain, he knew, and herespected Helen for keeping her, as he knew she did. A while they talkedof Katy and New York, Mark laboring to convince Helen that its peoplewere not all heartless and fickle, and at last citing his mother as aninstance. 

"You would like mother, Miss Lennox. I hope you will know her sometime, " he said, and then they talked of books, Helen forgetting thatMark was city bred in the interest with which she listened to him, whileMark forgot that the girl who appreciated and understood his viewsalmost before they were expressed was country born, and sitting therebefore him clad in homely garb, with no ornaments save those of her finemind and the sparkling face turned so fully toward him. 

"Mark Ray is not like Wilford Cameron, " Helen said to herself, when asthe clock was striking eleven she bade him good-night and went up to herroom. "But of course in his heart he feels above us all, " and openingher window she leaned her hot cheek against the wet casement, and lookedout 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 bearingsome resemblance to Mark's eyes as they kindled and grew bright with hisexcitement, resting always kindly on her--on Helen, who, leaning thusfrom 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, ofwhich Mark Ray had been the cause, and which she tried in vain to putaside, wondering what he thought of them all, and if he did not secretlydespise them even while making himself so familiar. And then there sweptover her a feeling of desolation such as she had never experiencedbefore, a shrinking from living all her life in Silverton, as she fullyexpected to do, and laying her head upon the little stand, she criedpassionately. 

"This is weak, this is folly, " she suddenly exclaimed, as she becameconscious of acting as Helen Lennox was not wont to act, and with astrong effort of the will she dried her tears and crept quietly to bedjust as Mark was falling into his first sleep, and dreaming ofsmothering. 

Helen would not have acknowledged it, and yet it was a truth not to bedenied, that she stayed next morning a much longer time than usualbefore her glass, arranging her hair, which was worn more becominglythan on the previous night, softening the somewhat too intellectualexpression of her face, and making her seem more womanly and modest. Once she thought to wear the light buff gown in which she looked sowell, but the thought was repudiated as soon as formed, and donning thesame dark calico she would have worn if Mark had not been there, shefinished her simple toilet and went downstairs, just as Mark came in atthe side door, his hands full of water lilies and his boots bearingmarks of what he had been through to get them. 

"Early country air is healthful, " he said, "and as I do not often have achance to try it I thought I would improve the present opportunity! So Ihave been down by the pond, and spying these lilies I persevered until Ireached them, in spite of mud and mire. There is no blossom I like sowell. Were I a young girl I would always wear one in my hair, just asyour 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 if hairdressing were one of hisaccomplishments. "The effect is good, " he continued, turning herblushing face to the glass and asking if it were not. 

"Yes, " Helen stammered, seeing more the saucy eyes looking over her headthan the lily in her hair. "Yes, good enough, but hardly in keeping withthis old dress, " and vanity whispered the wish that the buff had reallybeen worn. 

"Your dress is suitable for morning, I am sure, " Mark replied, turninga little more to the right the lily and noticing as he did so how verywhite 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 analyzedhis feelings then, or told what he did think of Helen. He only knewthat by her efforts to repel him she attracted him the more, she was sodifferent from any young ladies he had known; so different from Juno, into whose hair he had never twined a water lily. It would not becomeher 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 Helenacknowledged with a painful blush, while Mark began a disquisition uponthe nature of lilies generally, which lasted until breakfast was ended. 

It was arranged that Mark should ride to the cars with Uncle Ephraimwhen 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 callaround. Helen thought it possible, and then remembering how many thingswere to be done that morning, she excused herself from the parlor, andrepairing to the platform out by the back door, where it was shady andcool, she tied on a broad check apron, and rolling her sleeves above herelbows, was just bringing the churn-dasher to bear vigorously upon thethick cream she was turning into butter, when, having finished hiscigar, Mark went out into the yard, and following the winding path camesuddenly upon her. Helen's first impulse was to stop, but with a strongnerving 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 armsare stronger than the others. "

"And mine are stronger still, " Mark laughingly rejoined, as he put Helenaside and plied the dasher himself, in spite of her protestations thathe would certainly ruin his clothes. 

"Tie that apron around me, then, " he said, with the utmost nonchalance, and Helen obeyed, tying her check apron around the young man's neck, whofelt her hands as they touched his hair and knew that they were brushingqueer fancies into his brain, fancies which made him wonder what hismother would think of Helen, or what she would say if she knew just howhe was occupied that morning, absolutely churning cream until it turnedto butter, for Mark persisted until the task was done, standing by whileHelen gathered up the golden lumps, and admiring her plump, round armsquite as much as he had done her neck. 

She would be a belle like her sister, though of a different stamp, hethought, as he again bent down his head while she removed the apron anddisclosed more than one big spot upon his broadcloth. Mark assured herthat it did not matter; his coat was nearly worn out; and anyway henever should regret that he had churned once in his life, or forgetit either; and then he asked if Helen would be in New York the comingwinter, talking of the pleasure it would be to meet her there untilHelen herself began to feel what she never before had felt, a desire tovisit 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-by, and sprang into the coveredbuggy, which Uncle Ephraim had brought out in honor of Katy's arrival. 

 * * * * *

Old Whitey was hitched at a safe distance from all possible harm. UncleEphraim had returned from the store nearby, laden with the six poundsof crush sugar and the two pounds of real old Java, he had beencommissioned to purchase with a view to Katy's taste, and now upon theplatform at West Silverton, he stood with Mark Ray, waiting for thearrival of the train just appearing in view across the level plain. 

"It's fifteen months since she went away, " he said, and Mark saw thatthe old man's form trembled with the excitement of meeting her again, while his eyes scanned eagerly every window and door of the cars nowslowly stopping before him. "There, there, " and he laid his handnervously on Mark's shoulder as a white, jaunty feather appeared inview; but no, that was not Katy, and the dim eyes ran again along thewhole line of the cars, from which so many were alighting, for that wasan eating house. 

But Katy did not come, and with a long breath of wonder anddisappointment the deacon said: "Can it be she is asleep. Youngman, 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, whotremblingly repeated his words: "Not there, not come, " while over hisaged face there broke a look of touching sadness, which Mark neverforgot, remembering it always just as he remembered the big tear dropswhich from his seat by the window he saw the old man wipe away with hiscoat sleeve, whispering softly to Whitey of his disappointment as heunhitched the horse and drove away alone. 

"Maybe she's writ. I'll go and see, " he said, and driving to theirregular office he found a letter directed by Wilford Cameron, butwritten by Katy. 

This last he knew, for he tore the envelope open; but he could not readit then, and thrusting it into his pocket he went slowly back to thehome where the tempting dinner was prepared, and the family waitingso eagerly for him. Even before he reached there they knew of thedisappointment, for from the garret window Helen had watched the road bywhich he would come, and when the buggy appeared in sight she saw he wasalone. 

There was a mistake; Katy had missed the train, she said to her motherand aunts, who hoped she might be right. But Katy had not missed thetrain, as was indicated by the letter which Uncle Ephraim without a wordput into Helen's hand, leaning on old Whitey's neck while she read aloudthe attempt at an explanation which Katy had hurried written, a stain onthe paper where a tear had fallen attesting her distress at the bitterdisappointment. 

"Wilford did not know of the other letter, " she said, "and had madearrangements for her to go back with him to New York, inasmuch as thehouse was already opened, and the servants there wanting ahead; besidesthat, Wilford had been absent so long that he could not possibly stop atSilverton himself, and as he would not think of living without her, evenfor a few days, there was no alternative but for her to go with him onthe boat directly to New York. I am sorry, oh, so sorry, but indeed Iam not to blame, " she added, in conclusion, and this was the nearestapproach there was to an admission that anybody was to blame for thisdisappointment which cut so cruelly, making even Uncle Ephraim cry asout in the barn he hung away the mended harness and covered the newbuggy, 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 herfrom us, " the old man said, as on the hay he knelt down and prayed thatKaty had not learned to despise the home where she was so beloved. 

"Katy will never come to us again, " seemed the prevailing opinion atSilverton, where more than Uncle Ephraim felt a chilling doubt at timesas to whether she really wished to come or not. If she did, it seemedeasy of accomplishment to those who knew not how perfect and completewere the fetters thrown around her, and how unbending the will whichgoverned hers. Could they have seen the look in Katy's face when shefirst understood that she was not going to Silverton, their hearts wouldhave bled for the thwarted creature who fled up the stairs to her ownroom, where Esther found her twenty minutes later, cold and faintingupon the bed, her face as white as ashes, and her hands clinched sotightly that the nails left marks upon the palms. 

"It was not strange that the poor child should faint--indeed, it wasonly natural that nature should give way after so many weeks of gayety, and she very far from being strong, " Mrs. Cameron said to Wilford, whowas beginning to repent of his decision, and who but for that remarkperhaps 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 himor guess that he wished her to meet him more than half the way, and sothe verdict was unchanged, and in a kind of bewilderment, Katy wrote thehurried letter, feeling less actual pain than did its readers, for thedisappointment had stunned her for a time, and all she could remember ofthe passage home on that same night when Mark Ray sat with Helen in thesitting-room at Silverton, was that there was a fearful storm of rainmingled with lightning flashes and thunder peals, which terrified theother ladies, but brought to her no other sensation save that it wouldnot be so very hard to perish in the dark waters dashing so madly aboutthe vessel's side. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

A NEW LIFE. 

"NEW YORK, December 16th. "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 farmhouse toward theclose of a chill December day, and Helen's heart almost stopped itsbeating as she read it aloud, and then looked in the white, scared facesof those around her. Katy was very ill--dying, perhaps--or Wilford hadnever telegraphed. What could it be? What was the matter? Had it beensomewhat later, they would have known; but now all was conjecture worsethan useless, and in a half-distracted state Helen made her hastypreparations for the journey on the morrow, and then sent for Morris, hoping he might offer some advice or suggestion for her to carry to thatsickroom in New York. 

"Perhaps you will go with me, " Helen said. "You know Katy'sconstitution. You might save her life. "

But Morris shook his head. If he was needed they might send and he wouldcome, 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! ofthe better world, and ask if she is prepared. I cannot lose her inheaven. "

And this was all the message Morris sent, though his heart and prayerswent after the rapid train which bore Helen safely onward, untilHartford was reached, where there was a long detention, so that thedark wintry night had closed over the city ere Helen had reached it, timid, anxious, and wondering what she should do if Wilford was notthere to meet her. "He will be, of course, " she kept repeating toherself, 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 inwhich she was seated began at last to move, and she knew she was beingtaken whither the others had gone, wherever that might be. 

"Is Miss Helen Lennox here?" sounded cheerily in her ears as she stoppedbefore the depot, and Helen uttered a cry of joy, for she recognized thevoice of Mark Ray, who was soon grasping her hand, and trying toreassure her, as he saw how she shrank from the noise and clamor of NewYork, heard now for the first time. "Our carriage is here, " he said, andin a moment she found herself in a close-covered vehicle, with Marksitting opposite, tucking the warm blanket around her, asking if shewere cold, and paying those numberless little attentions so gratifyingto 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 keepingsomething back, something he dreaded to tell her; and then, as itsuddenly occurred to her that Wilford should have met her, not Mark, hergreat fear found utterance in words, and leaning forward so that herface almost touched Mark's, she said: "Tell me, Mr. Ray, is Katy dead?"

"Not dead, oh, no, nor yet very dangerous, my mother hopes; but she keptasking for you, and so my--that is, Mr. Cameron, sent the telegram. "

There was an ejaculatory prayer of thankfulness, and then Helencontinued: "Is it long since she was taken sick?"

"Her little daughter will be a week old to-morrow, " Mark replied; whileHelen, with an exclamation of surprise she could not repress, sank backinto the corner, faint and giddy with the excitement of this fact, whichinvested little Katy with a new dignity, but drew her, oh, so muchnearer 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 oncemore, and whisper the words of love she knew she must have longed tohear. 

Awe-struck, bewildered and half terrified, Helen looked up at the hugebrown structure, which Mark designated as "the place. " It was so lofty, so high, so like the Camerons, and so unlike the farmhouse far away, that Helen trembled as she followed Mark into the rooms flooded withlight, and seeming to her like fairyland. They were so different fromanything she had imagined, so much handsomer than even Katy's vividdescriptions had implied, that for the moment the sight took her breathaway, and she sank passively into the chair Mark brought for her, himself taking her muff and tippet, and noting, as he did so, that theywere 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 amatter of small moment to Mark, as he thought more of the look in herdark eyes as she said to him: "You are very kind, Mr. Ray. I cannotthank you enough, " than of all the furs in Broadway. This remark hadbeen wrung from Helen by the feeling of homesickness and desolationwhich swept over her, as she thought how really alone she should bethere, in her sister's house, on this first night of her arrival, ifit were not for Mark, thus virtually taking the place of thebrother-in-law, who should have been there to greet her. 

"He was with Mrs. Cameron, " the servant said, and taking out a card Markwrote down a few words, and handing it to the servant who had beenlooking curiously at Helen, he continued standing until a step was heardon the stairs and Wilford came quietly in. 

It was not a very loving meeting, but Helen was civil and Wilford waspolite, offering her his hand and asking some questions about herjourney. 

"I was intending to meet you myself, " he said, "but Mrs. Cameron doesnot like me to leave her, and Mark kindly offered to take the troubleoff my hands. "

This was the most gracious thing he had said; this the nearest approachto friendliness, and Helen felt herself hating him less than she hadsupposed she should. He was looking very pale and anxious, while therewas on his face the light of a new joy, as if the little life begun soshort a time ago had brought an added good to him, softening his haughtymanner and making him even endurable to the prejudiced sister watchinghim so closely!

"Does Phillips know you are here?" he asked, answering his own query byringing the bell and bidding Esther, who appeared, tell Phillips thatMiss Lennox had arrived and wished for supper, explaining to Helen thatsince Katy's illness they had dined at three, as that accommodated themthe best. 

This done and Helen's baggage ordered to her room, he seemed to think hehad discharged his duty as host, and as Mark had left he began to growfidgety, for a _tête-à-tête_ with Helen was not what he desired. He hadsaid to her all he could think to say, for it never once occurred to himto inquire after the deacon's family. He had asked for Dr. Grant, buthis solicitude went no further, and the inmates of the farmhouse mighthave been dead and buried for aught he knew to the contrary. Theomission was not made purposely, but because he really did not feelenough of interest in people so widely different from himself even toask for them, much less to suspect how Helen's blood boiled as shedetected the omission and imputed it to intended slight, feeling so gladwhen he at last excused himself, saying he must go back to Katy, butwould 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 everypossible 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 inquestion was not anxious to meet a person who, could she have had herway, would not have been there at all. 

From the first moment of consciousness after the long hours ofsuffering, Katy had asked for Helen, rather than her mother, feelingthat the former would be more welcome, and could more easily conformto their customs. 

"Send for Helen; I am so tired, and she could always rest me, " was herreply, 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 andson, touching the propriety of sending for Helen. "She would be of nouse whatever, and might excite our Katy. Quiet is highly important justnow, " Mrs. Cameron had said, thus veiling under pretended concern forKaty her aversion to the girl whose independence in declining herdressmaker had never been forgiven, and whom she had set down in hermind as rude and ignorant. 

She was well suited with Katy now, petting and caressing and talkingconstantly of her; but it did not follow that she must like the sister, too, and so she checked the impulse which would have prompted Wilford tosend for her as Katy so much desired. 

"If her coming would do Katy harm she ought not to come, " and soWilford's conscience was partially quieted, white Katy in her darkenedroom moaned on. 

"Send for Sister Helen, please send for Sister Helen. "

At last on the fourth day came Mrs. Banker, Mark Ray's mother, to thehouse, and in consideration of the strong liking she had evinced forKaty ever since her arrival in New York, and the great respect felt forher by Mrs. Cameron, she was admitted to the chamber and heard theplaintive pleadings: "Send for Sister Helen, " until her motherly heartwas touched, and as she sat with her son at dinner she spoke of theyoung girl-mother moaning so for Helen. 

Whether it was Mark's great pity for Katy, or whether he was promptedby some more selfish motive, we do not profess to say, but that he wasgreatly excited was very evident from his manner, as he exclaimed:

"Why not send for Helen, then? She is a splendid girl, and they idolizeeach other. Talk of her injuring Katy, that's all a humbug. She is justfitted for a nurse. Almost the sight of her would cure one ofnervousness, she is so calm and quiet. "

This was what Mark said, and again the next morning Mrs. Banker'scarriage stood at the door of No. ---- Madison Square, while Mrs. Bankerherself was talking to Wilford in the library, and urging that Helen besent for at once. 

"It may save her life. She is more feverish to-day than yesterday, andthis constant asking for her sister will wear her out so fast, " sheadded, and that last argument prevailed. 

Helen was sent for and now sat waiting in the parlor for the coming ofMrs. Cameron. Wilford did not mean Katy to hear him as he whispered tohis mother that Helen was below; but she did, and her blue eyes flashedbrightly as she started from her pillow, exclaiming:

"I am so glad, so glad. Kiss me, Wilford, because I am so glad. Does sheknow? Have you told her? Wasn't she surprised, and will she come upquick?"

They could not quiet her at once, and only the assurance that unless shewere more composed Helen should not see her that night had any effectupon her; but when they told her that, she lay back upon her pillowsubmissively, and Wilford saw the great tears dropping from her hotcheeks, while the pallid lips kept softly whispering "Helen. " Then thesister 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 isgood-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 toPhillips, and insisted upon Esther until the latter came, receivingnumerous injunctions as to the jam, the sweetmeats, the peaches and thecold ham Helen must have, each one being remembered as her favorite. 

Wholly unselfish, Katy thought nothing of herself or the effort it costher thus to care for Helen, but when it was over and Esther had gone, she seemed so utterly exhausted that Mrs. Cameron did not leave her, butstayed at her bedside, ministering to her until the extreme paleness wasgone, and her eyes were more natural. Meanwhile the supper, which asKaty feared had made Phillips cross, had been arranged by Esther, whoconducted Helen to the dining-room, herself standing by and waiting uponher because the one whose duty it was had gone out for the evening, andPhillips had declined the "honor, " as she styled it. 

There was a homesick feeling tugging at Helen's heart, while she triedto eat, and only the certainty that Katy was not far away kept her tearsback. To her the very grandeur of the house made it desolate, and shewas so glad it was Katy who lived there and not herself as she went upthe soft carpeted stairway, which gave back no sound, and through themarble hall to the parlor, where by the table on which her cloak andfurs were still lying, a lady stood, as dignified and unconscious asif she had not been inspecting the self-same fur which Mark Ray hadobserved, but not like him thinking it did not matter, for it did mattervery materially with her, and a smile of contempt had curled her lip asshe turned over the tippet which even Phillips would not have worn. 

"I wonder how long she means to stay, and if Wilford will have to takeher out, " she was thinking, just as Helen appeared in the door andadvanced 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 hadmeant to do, for there was something about Helen which commanded herrespect, and she went forward to meet her, offering her hand, andsaying, cordially:

"Miss Lennox, I presume--my daughter Katy's sister?"

Helen had not expected this, and the warm flush which came to her cheeksmade her very handsome, as she returned Mrs. Cameron's greeting, andthen asked more particularly for Katy than she had yet done. For a whilethey talked together, Mrs. Cameron noting carefully every item ofHelen's attire, as well as the purity of her language and her perfectrepose 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, whileHelen, 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 onher, and the cross Phillips stalking once through the room for noostensible purpose except to get a sight of her. 

Helen wondered at herself as much as Mrs. Cameron wondered at her, trying to decide whether it were ignorance, conceit, obtuseness, orwhat, which made her so self-possessed when she was expected to appearso different. 

"Strong-minded, " was her final decision, as she said at last: "Wepromised Katy she should see you to-night. Will you go now?"

Then the color left Helen's face and lips, and her limbs shookperceptibly, for the knowing she was soon to meet her sister unnervedher; but by the time the door of Katy's room was reached she was herselfagain, and there was no need for Mrs. Cameron to whisper: "Pray do notexcite her. "

Katy heard her coming, and it required all Wilford's and the nurse'sefforts to keep her quiet, so great was her joy. 

"Helen, Helen, darling, darling sister, " she cried, as she wound herarms around Helen's neck, and laid her golden head on Helen's bosom, sobbing in a low, mournful way which told Helen more how much she wasbeloved and had been longed for than did the weak, childish voice whichwhispered: "I've wanted you so much, oh, Helen; you don't know how muchI've missed you all the years I've been away. You will not leave menow, " and Katy clung closer to the dear sister who gently unclasped theclinging arms and put back upon the pillow the quivering face, which shekissed 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 livingbeing, and it was very apparent now, for as if her presence had a powerto soothe, Katy grew very quiet, and utterly wearied out, slept for afew moments with Helen's hand fast locked in hers. When she awoke thetired look was gone, and turning to her sister, she said: "Have you seenmy baby?" while the young mother love which broke so beautifully overher pale face, made it the face of an angel. 

"It seems so funny that it is Katy's baby, " Helen said, taking the punylittle thing, which with its wrinkled face and red, clinched fists wasnot 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 shethought how short the time since up in the old garret at home she haddressed rag dolls for the Katy who was now a mother. And still in ameasure 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 cribdid her so much good. 

"I shall get well so fast, " she said; and she was right, for Helen wasworth far more to her than all the physician's powders, and Wilford, when he saw how she improved, was glad that Helen came, even if she didsometimes shock him with her independent ways, upsetting all his plansand theories with regard to Katy, and meeting him on other grounds withan opposition as puzzling as it was new to him. 

To Mrs. Cameron, Helen was also a study, she seemed to care so littlefor what others might think of her, evincing no hesitation, no timidity, when told one day, the second day after her arrival, that Mrs. Bankerwas in the parlor and had asked to see Miss Lennox. Mrs. Cameron did notsuspect how under that calm, unmoved exterior, Helen was hiding a heartwhich beat most painfully as she went down to meet the mother of MarkRay, going first to her own room to make some little change in hertoilet, and wishing that her dress was more like the dress of thosearound her--like Mrs. Cameron's, or even Esther's and the fashionablenurse's. One glance she gave to the brown silk, Wilford's gift, but hergood sense told her that the plain merino she wore was far more suitableto the sickroom, where she spent her time, and so with a fresh collarand cuffs, and another brush of her rich hair, she went to Mrs. Banker, forgetting herself in her pleasure at finding in the stranger a lady sowholly congenial and familiar, whose mild, dark eyes, so like MarkRay's, rested so kindly on her, and whose pleasant voice had somethingmotherly in its tone, putting her wholly at her ease, and making herappear at her very best. 

Mrs. Banker was pleased with Helen, while she felt a kind of pity forthe young girl thrown so suddenly among strangers, without even hersister to aid and assist her. 

"Have you been out at all?" she asked, and upon Helen's replying thatshe had not, she answered: "That is not right. Accustomed to the freshcountry air, you will suffer from too close confinement. Suppose youride with me. My carriage is at the door, and I have a few hours'leisure. Tell your sister I insist, " she continued, as Helen hesitatedbetween inclination and what she fancied was her duty. 

To see New York with Mrs. Banker was a treat indeed, and Helen's heartbounded high as she ran up to Katy's room with the request. 

"Yes, by all means, " Katy said. "It is so kind in Mrs. Banker, and solike 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 Ithank her so much for her thoughtfulness, " and with a kiss Katy sentHelen away, while Mrs. Cameron, after twisting her rings nervously fora moment, said to Katy:

"Perhaps your sister would do well to wear your furs. Hers are small andcommon fitch. "

"Yes, certainly. Take them to her, " Katy answered, knowing intuitivelythe 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 inplace 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 dowdyhers were beside the others. But they were her own; the best she couldafford. 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 inthe despised furs, which Mrs. Cameron would on no account have hadbeside her on Broadway in an open carriage. Mrs. Banker noticed them, too, but the eager, happy face, which grew each moment brighter as theydrove down the street, more than made amends; and in watching that andpointing out the places which they passed, Mrs. Banker forgot the fursand the coarse straw hat whose strings of black had undeniably beendyed. Never in her life had Helen enjoyed a ride as she did thatpleasant winter day, when her kind friend took her wherever she wishedto go, showing her Broadway in its glory from Union Square to WallStreet, where they encountered Mark in a bustling crowd. He saw them, too, and beckoned to them, while Helen's face grew red as, lifting hishat to her, he came up to the carriage, and at his mother's suggestiontook a seat just opposite, asking where they had been and jocoselylaughing at his mother's taste in selecting such localities as theBowery, the Tombs and Barnum's Museum, when there were so many finerplaces to be seen. 

Helen felt the hot blood pricking the roots of her hair, for the Bowery, the Tombs and Barnum's Museum had been her choice as the points of whichshe had heard the most. So when Mark continued:

"You shall ride with me, Miss Lennox, and I will show you somethingworth your seeing, " she frankly answered:

"Your mother is not in fault, Mr. Ray. She asked me where I wished togo, and I mentioned these places; so please attribute it wholly to mycountry 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 quite right to commence as you have, " she said, "for now youhave a still greater treat in store, and Mark shall drive you to thepark some day. I know you will like that. "

Helen felt that she should like anything with that friendly voice toreassure her, and leaning back she was thinking how pleasant it was tobe in New York, how different from what she had expected, when a bowfrom Mark made her look up in time to see that they were meeting acarriage, in which sat Wilford, and with two gayly-dressed ladies, bothof whom gave her a supercilious stare as they passed by, while theyounger of the two half turned her head, as if for a more prolongedgaze. 

"Mrs. Grandon and Juno Cameron, " Mrs. Banker said, making some furtherremark to her son; while Helen felt that the brightness of the daychanged, for she could not be unconscious of the look with which she hadbeen regarded by these two fashionable ladies, and again her furs cameup before her, bringing a feeling of which she was ashamed, especiallyas she had fancied herself above all weakness of the kind. 

But Helen was a woman, with a woman's nature, and so that ride was notwithout its annoyance, though her face was very bright as she bade Mrs. Banker and Mark good-by, and then ran up the steps to Katy's home. Thatnight at the dinner, from which Mrs. Cameron was absent, Wilford wasunusually gracious, asking "had she enjoyed her ride, and if she didnot find Mrs. Banker a very pleasant acquaintance. "

The fact was, Wilford felt a little uncomfortable himself for havingsuffered a stranger to do for Katy's sister what devolved upon himself. Katy had asked him to drive with Helen; but he had found it veryconvenient to forget it, and take a seat instead with Juno and Mrs. Grandon, the latter of whom complimented "Miss Lennox's fineintellectual face, " after they had passed, and complimented it the moreas she saw how it vexed Juno, who could see nothing "in those bold eyesand that masculine forehead, " just because their _vis-à-vis_ chanced tobe Mark Ray's. Juno was not pleased with Helen's first appearance in thestreet, but nevertheless she called upon her next day, with SybilGrandon and her sister, Bell. To this she was urged by Sybil, who, having a somewhat larger experience of human nature, foresaw that Helenwould be popular just because Mrs. Banker had thus early taken her up, and who, besides, had conceived a capricious fancy to patronize MissLennox. 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 apart of herself. 

"Diamond cut diamond, " Bell thought, as she saw how frigidly politeboth Juno and Helen were, each recognizing in the other somethingantagonistic, which could never harmonize. 

Had Juno never cared for Dr. Grant, or suspected Helen of standingbetween herself and him, and had Mark Ray never stopped at Silverton, orbeen seen on Broadway with her, she might have judged her differently, for there was something attractive in Helen's face and appearance asshe sat talking to her guests, not awkwardly nor timidly, but with asmuch quiet dignity as if she had never mended Uncle Ephraim's socks, ormade 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 notgo out a great deal myself--that is, not as much as Juno--but I shall bealways glad to welcome you to my den. You may find something there tointerest you. "

This was Bell's leave-taking, while Sybil's was, if possible, even morefriendly, for aside from really fancying Helen, she took a perverse kindof pleasure in annoying Juno, who wondered "what she or Bell could seeto like in that awkward country girl, whom she knew had on one of Katy'scast-off collars, and her wardrobe was the most ordinary she ever saw;fitch furs, think of that!" and Juno gave a little pull at thefastenings of her rich ermine collar, showing so well over her velvetbasquine. 

"Fitch furs or not, they rode with Mark Ray on Broadway, " Bell retorted, with a wicked look in her eyes, which aroused Juno to a still higherpitch 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 bothHelen Lennox and the offending Mark. 

That evening there was at Mrs. Reynolds' a little company of thirtyor more, and as Mark was present, Juno seized the opportunity forascertaining, if possible, his real opinion of Helen Lennox, joking himfirst about his having taken her to ride so soon, and insinuating thathe must have a penchant for every new and pretty face. 

"Then you think her pretty? You have called on her?" Mark replied, hismanner evincing so much pleasure that Juno bit her lip to keep down herwrath, and flashing upon him her scornful eyes, replied: "Yes, Sybil andBell insisted that I should. Of myself I would never have done it, for Ihave now more acquaintances than I can attend to, and do not care toincrease the list. Besides that, I do not imagine that Miss Lennox canin any way add to my happiness, brought up as she has been among thewoods and hills, you know. "

"Yes, I have been there--to her home, I mean, " Mark rejoined, and Junocontinued:

"Only for a moment, though. You should have stayed, like Will, toappreciate it fully. I wish you could hear him describe the feather bedsin which he slept--that is, describe them before he decided to takeKaty; for after that he was chary of his remarks, and the feathers bysome marvelous process were changed into hair, for what he knew orcared. "

Mark hesitated a moment, and then said, quietly:

"I have stayed there all night, and have tested that feather bed, butfound nothing disparaging to Helen, who was as much a lady in thefarmhouse as here in the city. "

There was a look of withering scorn on Juno's face as she replied:

"As much a lady as here! That may very well be; but, pray, how longsince you took to visiting Silverton so frequently--becoming so familiaras to spend the night?"

There was no mistaking the jealousy which betrayed itself into everytone of Juno's voice as she stood before Mark a fit picture of theenraged 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 isadmirably fitted, I think, for the position she is to fill--that of acountry physician's wife, " and in the black eyes there was a wickedsparkle as Juno saw that her meaning was readily understood, Marklooking quickly at her and asking if she referred to Dr. Grant. 

"Certainly; I imagine that was settled as long ago as we met him inParis. Once I thought it might have been our Katy, but was mistaken. Ithink the doctor and Miss Lennox well adapted to each other--it is anexcellent match. "

There was for a moment a dull, heavy pain at Mark's heart, caused bythat little item of information which made him so uncomfortable. On thewhole he did not doubt it, for everything he could recall of Morris hada tendency to strengthen the belief. Nothing could he more probable, thrown together as they had been, without other congenial society, andnothing could be more suitable. 

"They are well matched, " Mark thought, as he walked listlessly throughMrs. Reynolds' parlors, seeing only one face, and that the face of HelenLennox, with the lily in her hair, just as it looked when she had tiedthe apron about his neck and laughed at his appearance. 

Helen was not the ideal which in his boyhood Mark had cherished of theone who was to be his wife, for that was of a more brilliant, beautifulwoman, a woman more like Juno, with whom he had always been on the bestof terms, giving her some reason, it is true, for believing herself thefavored one; but ideals change as years go on, and Helen Lennox had moreattractions 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 that night, when, after his return from Mrs. Reynolds' he sat for a long time beforethe fire in his dressing-room, cogitating upon what he had heard, andwondering why it should affect him so much. "Of course I am not, " hecontinued, feeling the necessity of reiterating the assertion by way ofmaking himself believe it. "She is not at all what I used to imagine thefuture 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 justlike the ladies at Mrs. Reynolds' to-night, but give her the sameadvantages and she would surpass them all. "

And then Mark Ray went off into a reverie, in which he saw Helen Lennoxhis wife, and with the aids by which he would surround her rapidlydeveloping into as splendid a woman as little Katy Cameron, who did notneed 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 picturewhich Mark painted upon the mental canvas; but there came a great blurblotting out its brightness as he remembered Dr. Grant, and felt thatLinwood was one day to be Helen's home. 

"But it shall not interfere with my being just as kind to her as before. She will need some attendant here, and Wilford, I know, will be glad toshove her off his hands. He is so infernal proud, " Mark said, and takinga fresh cigar he finished his reverie with the magnanimous resolve thatwere Helen a hundred times engaged she should be his especial careduring her sojourn in New York. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

HELEN IN SOCIETY. 

It was three days before Christmas, and Katy was talking confidentiallyto Mrs. Banker, whom she had asked to see the next time she should call. 

"I want so much to surprise her, " she said, speaking in a whisper, "andyou have been so kind to us both that I thought it might not trouble youvery much if I asked you to make the selection for me, and see to theengraving. Wilford gave me fifty dollars, all I needed, as I had fiftymore of my own, and now that I have a baby, I am sure I shall neveragain care to go out. My darling baby, how small the whole world seemsto me now when compared with her, " and the little mother glancedlovingly at the crib where slept the baby, worth more than all theworld. 

"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 hundreddollars. "

"Yes, " Katy replied, "I think that will please her, don't you?"

Mrs. Banker knew Katy's fondness for jewelry, and knowing, too, that hergirlhood was spent in comparative poverty, she could readily understandhow she would gratify her taste when circumstances were favorable; butHelen was different, and she felt certain that the hundred dollars couldbe spent to better advantage and in a manner more satisfactory to her. 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, dearMrs. Cameron, if I speak as openly as if I were the mother of you both. Bracelets are suitable for you who can have everything else, but isthere not something your sister needs more, something which will do moregood? Now, allowing me to suggest, I should say, buy her some furs, andlet the bracelets go. In Silverton her furs were well enough, but here, as the sister of Mrs. Wilford Cameron, she is deserving of better. "

It was the first time that Katy had thought that in New York her sistermight need more than at home. Seeing her only in the dim sickroom, thecontrast between Helen and her and her husband's sisters had not struckher, or if it had, she gave the preference to Helen in her dark merinoand linen collar, rather than to Juno in her silks and velvet; but sheunderstood Mrs. Banker at once, her cheeks reddening as there flashedupon her the reason why Wilford had never yet been in the street withHelen, notwithstanding that she had more than once requested it. 

"You are right, " she said. "It was thoughtless in me not to think ofthis myself. Helen shall have the furs, and whatever else is necessary. I am so glad you reminded me of it. You are kind as my own mother, " andKaty kissed her friend fondly as she bade her good-by, charging her adozen times not to let Helen know the surprise in store for her. 

There was little need of this caution, for Mrs. Banker understood humannature too well to divulge a matter which might wound one as sensitiveas Helen. Between the latter and herself there was a strong bond offriendship, and to the kind patronage of this lady Helen owed most ofthe attentions she had as yet received from her sister's friends; whileMark Ray did much toward lifting her to the place she held in spite ofthe common country dress, which Juno unsparingly criticised, and which, in fact, kept Wilford from taking her out, as his wife so often askedhim to do. And Helen, too, keenly felt the difference between herselfand 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 Christmasmorning she went as usual to Katy's room, finding her alone, her faceall aglow with excitement, and her bed a perfect showcase 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 whichit was to be applied. 

"Oh, Katy, Katy, why did you do it?" Helen cried, her tears fallinglike rain through the fingers she clasped over her eyes. 

"You are not angry?" Katy said, in some dismay, as Helen continued tosob without looking at the handsome furs, the stylish hat, the prettycloak, and rich patterns of blue and black silk, which Mrs. Banker hadselected. 

"No, oh, no!" Helen replied. "I know it was all meant well; but there issomething in me which rebels against taking this from Wilford. He hadbetter have sent to Silverton for that trunk. Its contents have neverbeen disturbed, and surely there might be something found good enoughfor me. "

It was the first time Helen had alluded to that trunk; but Katy did notthink that anything ill-natured was meant by the remark. She only feltthat Helen shrank from receiving so much from Wilford, as it was naturalshe should, and she hastened to reassure her, using all her powers tocomfort her until she at last grew calm enough to examine and admire theChristmas gifts upon which no expense had been spared. Much as we mayignore dress, and sinful as is an inordinate love for it, there is yetabout it an influence for good, when the heart of the wearer is right, holding it subservient to all higher, holier affections. At least HelenLennox found it so, when, clad in her new garments, which added so muchto her good looks, she drove with Mrs. Banker, or returned SybilGrandon's call, feeling that there was about her nothing for which Katyneed to blush, or even Wilford, who blandly invited her one pleasant dayto drive with him to the Park, seeming so disappointed when told that hehad been forestalled by Mr. Ray, whose fine turnout attracted lessattention that afternoon than did the handsome lady at his side, HelenLennox, who bade fair to rival even her Sister Katy tarrying at home, and listening with delight to the flattering things which Wilfordreported as having been said of Helen by those for whose opinion hecared the most. He was not afraid to be seen with her now, and Helen, while knowing the reason of the change, did not feel like quarrelingwith him for it, but accepted with a good-natured grace of what made herlife in New York very happy. With Bell Cameron she was on the best ofterms; while Sybil Grandon, always going with the tide, professed forher an admiration, which, whether fancied or real, did much towardmaking her popular; and when, as the mistress of her brother's house, she issued cards of invitation for a large party, she took especialpains to insist upon Helen's attending, even if Katy were not able. Butfrom this Helen shrank. She could not meet so many strangers alone, shesaid, and so the matter was dropped, until Mrs. Banker offered tochaperone her, when Helen began to waver, changing her mind at lastand promising to go. 

Never since the days of her first party had Katy been so wild withexcitement as she was in deciding upon Helen's dress, which well becamethe wearer, who scarcely knew herself when, before the mirror, with theblaze of the chandelier falling upon her, she saw the picture of a younggirl arrayed in rich pink silk, with an overskirt of lace, and the lightpretty cloak, just thrown upon her uncovered neck, where Katy's pearlswere shining. Even Wilford was pleased, and stood by admiring her almostas much as Katy. 

"What would they say at home if they could only see you?" Katyexclaimed, throwing back the handsome cloak so as to show more of thewell-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 uncovered arms, which never since herchildhood had been thus exposed to view, except at such times as herhousehold duties had required it. 

Even this exception would not apply to the low neck, at which Helen longdemurred, yielding finally to Katy's entreaties, but often wonderingwhat Mark Ray would think, and if he would not be shocked. Mark Ray hadbeen strangely blended with all Helen's thoughts as she submittedherself to Esther's practiced hands, and when the hairdresser, summonedto her aid, asked what flowers she would wear, it was a thought of himwhich led her to select a single water lily, which looked as natural asif 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 wastwined tastefully amid the heavy braids of the brown hair, whose lengthand luxuriance had thrown the hairdresser into ecstasies of delight, and made Esther lament that in these days of false tresses no one wouldgive Miss Lennox credit for what was wholly her own. 

"You will be the belle of the evening, " Katy said, as she kissed hersister good-night and then ran back to her baby, while Wilford, yieldingto her importunities that he should not remain with her, followed Mrs. Banker's carriage in his own private conveyance, and was soon set downat Sybil Grandon's door. 

Meanwhile, at the elder Cameron's there had been a discussion touchingthe propriety of their taking Helen under their protection, instead ofleaving her to Mrs. Banker to chaperone, Bell insisting that it ought tobe done, while the father swore roundly at the imperious Juno, who wouldnot "be bothered with that country girl. "

"You would rather leave her wholly to Mark Ray and his mother, Isuppose, " Bell said, adding, as she saw the flush on Juno's face. "Youknow you are dying of jealousy, and nothing annoys you so much as tohear people talk of Mark's attentions to Miss Lennox. "

"Do they talk?" Mrs. Cameron asked quickly, while in her gray eyes theregleamed a light far more dangerous and threatening to Helen than Juno'sopen scorn. 

Mrs. Cameron had long intended Mark Ray for her daughter, and accustomedto see everything bend to her wishes, she had come to consider thematter as almost certain, even though he had never proposed in words. Hehad done everything else, she thought, attending Juno constantly andfrequenting their house so much that it was a standing joke for hisfriends to seek him there when he was not at home or at his office. Latterly, however, there had been a change, and the ambitious mothercould not deny that since Helen's arrival in New York Mark had visitedthem less frequently and stayed a shorter time, while she had more thanonce heard of him at her son's in company with Helen. Very rapidly atrain of thought passed through her mind; but it did not manifest itselfupon her face, which was composed and quiet as she decided with Junothat Helen should not trouble them. With the utmost care Juno arrayedherself for the party, thinking with a great deal of complacency howimpossible it was for Helen Lennox to compete with her in point ofdress. 

"She is such a prude, I daresay she will go in that blue silk with thelong sleeves and high neck, looking like a Dutch doll, " she said toBell, as she shook back the folds of her rich crimson, and turned herhead 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 gracefullyformed, was shockingly guiltless of flesh. 

There was an angry reply, and then wrapping her cloak about her Junofollowed to their carriage, and was ere long one of the gay crowdthronging Sybil Grandon's parlors. Helen had not yet arrived, and Junowas hoping she would not come, when there was a stir at the door andMrs. Banker, in her velvet and diamonds, appeared, and with her HelenLennox, but so transformed that Juno hardly knew her, looking twice ereshe was sure that the beautiful young lady, so wholly self-possessed, was indeed the country girl she affected to despise. 

"Who is she?" was asked by many, who at once acknowledged her claims totheir attention, and as soon as practicable sought her acquaintance, sothat Helen suddenly found herself the center of a little court of whichshe was the queen and Mark her sworn knight. 

Presuming upon his mother's chaperonage, he claimed the right ofattending her, and Juno's glory waned quite as effectually as it haddone when Katy was the leading star to which New York paid homage. 

Juno had been annoyed then, but now fierce jealousy took possessionof her heart as she watched the girl whom all seemed to admire, evenWilford feeling a thrill of pride that the possession of so attractivea sister-in-law reflected credit upon himself. 

He was not ashamed of her now, nor did he retain a single thought of thefarmhouse or Uncle Ephraim as he made his way to her side, standingprotectingly at her left, just as Mark was standing at her right, andat 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 aconfirmation of his words. 

But Mark did not heartily respond. He, too, had solicited Helen as apartner when the dancing first commenced, and her quiet refusal haddisappointed him a little, for Mark was fond of dancing, and thoughas a general thing he disapproved of waltzes and polkas when he was thelooker-on, he felt that there would be something vastly agreeable andexhilarating in clasping Helen in his arm and whirling her about theroom just as Juno was being whirled by a young cadet, a friend ofLieutenant Bob's. But when he reflected that not his arm alone wouldencircle her waist, or his breath touch her snowy neck, he was glad shedid not dance, and professing a weariness he did not feel, he declinedto join the dancers on the floor, but kept with Helen, enjoying what sheenjoyed, and putting her so perfectly at her ease that no one would everhave dreamed of the curdy cheeses she had made, or the pounds of buttershe had churned. But Mark thought of it as he secretly admired the neckand arms seen once before on that memorable day when he assisted Helenin the labors of the dairy. If nothing else had done so, the lily inher hair would have brought that morning to his mind, and once as theywalked up and down the hall he spoke of the ornament she had chosen, andhow well it became her. 

"Pond lilies are my pets, " she said, "and I have kept one of those Igathered last fall when at Silverton. Do you remember them?" and hiseyes rested upon Helen with a look that made her blush as she faintlyanswered "yes"; but she did not tell him of a little box at home, a boxmade of cones and acorns, and where was hidden a withered water lily, which she could not throw away, even after its beauty and fragrance haddeparted. 

Had she told him this it might have put to flight the doubts troublingMark so much, and making him wonder if Dr. Grant had really a claim uponthe girl stealing his heart so fast. 

"I mean to sound her, " he thought, and as just then Lieutenant Bobpassed by, making some jocose remark about his offending all the fairones by the course he was taking, Mark said to Helen, who suggestedreturning to the parlor:

"As you like, though it cannot matter; a person known to be engaged isabove Bob Reynolds' jokes. "

Quick as thought the hot blood stained Helen's face and neck, for Markhad made a most egregious blunder, giving her only the impression thathe was the engaged one referred to, not herself, and for a moment sheforgot the gay scene around her in the sharpness of the pang with whichshe 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 hadguessed of her real feelings, and who the betrothed one was. "Not JunoCameron, " she hoped, as after a few moments Mrs. Cameron came up, andadroitly detaching Mark from her side, took his place while he saunteredto a group of ladies and was ere long dancing merrily with Juno, whosecrimson robe once brushed against Helen's pink, and whose black eyeslooked exultingly into Helen's face. 

"They are a well-matched pair, " Mrs. Cameron said, assuming a veryconfidential manner toward Helen, who assented to the remark, while thelady continued: "There is but one thing wrong about Mark Ray. He is amost unscrupulous flirt, pleased with every new face, and this of courseannoys Juno. "

"Are they engaged?" came faintly and involuntarily from Helen's lips, while Mrs. Cameron's foot beat the carpet with a very becominghesitancy, as she replied: "Oh, that was settled in our family a longtime ago. Wilford and Mark have always been like brothers. "

If Helen had been on the watch for equivocations she would not haveplaced as much stress as she did on Mrs. Cameron's words, for that ladydid not say positively "They are engaged. " She could not quite bringherself to a deliberate falsehood, which, if detected, would reflectupon her character as a lady, but she could mislead Helen, and she didso effectually, as was evinced by the red spot which burned on hercheeks, and by her uncertain way of replying to a gentleman who stood byher for a moment, addressing to her some casual remark and departingwith the impression that Miss Lennox was very timid and shy. After hewas gone, Mrs. Cameron continued, "It is not like us to bruit ouraffairs abroad, and were my daughter ten times engaged, the world wouldbe 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 heseems to be pleased with you, I have acted as I should wish a friend toact toward my own child. Were it not that you are one of our family, Imight not have interfered, and I trust you not to repeat even to Katywhat I have said. "

Helen nodded assent, while in her heart was a wild tumult offeelings--flattered pride, disappointment, indignation and mortificationall struggling for the mastery---mortification to feel that she who hadquietly ignored such a passion as love when connected with herself, had, nevertheless, been pleased with the attentions of one who was onlyamusing himself with her, as a child amuses itself with some new toysoon to be thrown aside--indignation at him for vexing Juno at herexpense--disappointment that he should care for such as Juno, andflattered pride that Mrs. Cameron should include her in "our family. "Helen had as few weak points as most young ladies, but she was not freefrom them all, and the fact that Mrs. Cameron had taken her into aconfidence which even Katy did not share, was soothing to her ruffledspirits, particularly as after that confidence Mrs. Cameron wasexcessively gracious to her, introducing her to many whom she did notknow before, and paying her numberless little attentions, which madeJuno stare, while the clearer-seeing Bell arched her eyebrows, andwondered for what Helen was to be made a catspaw by her clever mother. Whatever it was, it did not appear, save as it showed itself in Helen'sslightly changed demeanor when Mark again sought her society, and triedto bring back to her face the look he had left there. But somethingevidently had come between them, and the young man racked his brain tofind the cause of this sudden indifference in one who had been pleasedwith him only a short half hour before. 

"It's that confounded waltzing which disgusted her, " he said, "and nowonder, for if ever a man looks like an idiot, it is when he is kickingup his heels to the sound of a viol, and wheeling around some womanwhose skirts sweep everything within the circle of a rod, and whose facewears that die-away expression I have so often noticed. I've half a mindto swear I'll never dance again. "

But Mark was too fond of dancing to quit it at once, and finding Helenstill indifferent, he yielded to circumstances, and the last she saw ofhim, as at a comparatively early hour she left the gay scene, he wasdancing again with Juno, whose face beamed with a triumphant look, as ifshe in some way guessed the aching heart her rival carried home. It wasa heavy blow to Helen, for she had become greatly interested in MarkRay, whose attentions had made her stay in New York so pleasant. Butthese were over now--at least the excitement they brought was over, andHelen, as she sat in her dressing-room at home, and thought of thefuture as well as the past, felt stealing over her a sense of desolationand loneliness such as she had experienced but once before, and that onthe night when leaning from her window at the farmhouse where Mark Raywas stopping she had shuddered and shrank from living all her days amongthe rugged hills of Silverton. New York had opened an entirely new worldto 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 thevague thought that a life with such people as Mrs. Banker and those whofrequented her house would be preferable to a life in Silverton, whereonly Morris understood her, it was but the natural result of dailyintercourse with one who had studied to please and interest as Mark Rayhad done. But Helen had too much good sense and strength of will long toindulge in what she would have called "love-sick regrets" in others, andshe began to devise the best course for her to adopt hereafter, concluding finally to treat him much as she had done, lest he shouldsuspect how deeply she had been wounded. Now that she knew of hisengagement, it would be an easy matter, she thought, so to demeanherself as neither to annoy Juno nor really to vex him. Thoroughly nowshe understood why Juno Cameron had seemed to dislike her so much. 

"It is natural, " she said, "and yet I honestly believe I like her betterfor knowing what I do. There must be some good beneath that proudexterior, 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 retiredto rest, thinking what might have been had Juno Cameron found some otherlover more like her than Mark could ever be. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

GENEVRA. 

Far more elated with her sister's success than Helen herself, Katy couldtalk of little else next morning, telling Helen how many complimentarythings Wilford had said of her, and how much he had heard others say, while Mark Ray had seemed perfectly fascinated. 

"I never thought till last night how nice it would be for you to marryMark and settle in New York, " Katy said, never dreaming how she waswounding Helen, who, but for Mrs. Cameron's charge, would haveproclaimed Mark's engagement with Juno. 

As it was, she felt the words struggling against her lips; but sheforced them back, and tried to laugh at Katy's castles in the air, asshe called them. 

"You looked beautiful, Wilford said, " Katy continued, "and I am so glad, only, " and Katy's voice fell, while her eyes rested upon the crib wherethe baby was sleeping, "only I think Wilford is more anxious than everfor me to go again into society. He will not hear of my staying home forthe entire season, as I wish to do, for baby is better to me than allthe parties in the world. I am so tired of it all, and have been eversince I was at Newport. I was so vain and silly there, and I have beenso sorry since. But that summer cured me entirely, and you don't knowhow I loathe the very thought of entering society again. For your sake Ishould be willing to go sometimes, if there were no one else. But Mrs. Banker has kindly offered to take you under her charge, and so there isno necessity for me to matronize you. "

Helen laughed merrily at the idea of being matronized by the littlegirlish creature not yet twenty years of age, kissing fondly the white, thin cheek so much whiter and thinner than it used to be. 

"You are confining yourself too much, " she said. "You are losing allyour color. Fresh air will do you good, even if parties will not. Suppose we drive this afternoon to Marian Hazelton's and show her thebaby. "

Nothing could please Katy better. Several times since baby's birth shesent a message to Fourth Street, begging of Marian to come and see hertreasure, and once, urged by her entreaties, Wilford himself had writtena brief note asking that Miss Hazleton would call if perfectlyconvenient. But there had always been some excuse, some plea of work, some putting off the coming, until Katy feared that something might hewrong, and entered heartily into Helen's propositions. It was a pleasantwinter's day, and toward the middle of the afternoon the Cameroncarriage stopped before the humble dwelling where Marian Hazleton wasliving. 

"You needn't go up, " Katy said to the nurse, feeling that she wouldrather meet Marian without the presence of a stranger. "Miss Lennox willcarry baby and you can wait here. It is not cold, " she added, as thenurse showed signs of remonstrance, "and if it is, John can drive youaround a square or two. "

After this there was no further demur, and Katy soon stood with Helen atthe door of Marian's room. She was at home, uttering an exclamation ofastonishment when she saw who her visitors were, and turning white asashes, when Katy, taking her baby from Helen's arms, placed it in herlap, saying, "You would not come to see it and so I brought it to you. Isn't she abeauty?"

There was a blur before Marian's eyes, a pressure about her heart whichseemed congealing into stone, but she tried to stammer out something, bending over the tiny thing. Wilford Cameron's child, which she couldnot see for the thick blackness around her. Tears and bitter pangs ofgrief had the news of that child's birth wrung from Marian, bringingback all the dreadful past, and making her hear again as if it were butyesterday, the cold, decisive words:

"If there were a child it would of course be different. "

There was a child now, and it lay in Marian's lap, clad in the garmentsshe had made, the cambric and the lace, the flannel and the merino, which nevertheless could not take from it that look of sickly infancy, or make it beautiful to others beside the mother. But it was Wilford'schild, and so when for a moment both Helen and Katy turned to examine arosebush just in bloom, Marian Hazleton hugged the little creature toher bosom, whispering over it a blessing which, coming from one sowronged, was doubly valuable. There was a tear, one of Marian's, on itsface, when Katy came back to it, and there were more in Marian's eyes, falling like rain, as Katy asked, "What makes you cry?"

"I was thinking of what might have been, " came struggling from Marian'spale lips, and Helen felt a throb of pain as she remembered Dr. Grant, and then thought of herself in connection with this sad "Might havebeen. "

Marian, too, knew the full meaning of those words, as was attested bythe gush of tears which dropped so fast on baby's face that Katy, alarmed for the safety of the crimson cloak wrapped around it foreffect, took the child in her own arms, commencing that cooingconversation which shows how much young mothers love their first born. Marian's tears ceased at last, and after questioning Helen of Silvertonand its people, she turned abruptly to Katy, still rocking and talkingto her child, and asked:

"What do you intend to call her?"

"Genevra, " Katy said, and simultaneously with that word Marian Hazletondropped without sound or motion to the floor. 

Had Helen and Katy been put upon their oath, both would have testifiedthat even before the answer came, Marian had fainted, just as she didwhen Helen first went to secure her services for Katy's bridal wardrobe. This time, however, there was no Dr. Grant at hand, and so thefrightened ladies did what they could, bathing her face and chafingher cold hands until the life came slowly back, and with a frightenedexpression Marian looked around her, asking what had happened?

"Yes, I know now, " she said, as baby's cry fell on her ear, butrestoring her wholly to herself. "Fainting is one of my weaknesses, "she continued, turning to Helen. "You have seen me so before. It is myheart, " and with this explanation she satisfied her visitors, thoughKaty expressed much solicitude and proposed to send her medical aid. 

But Marian declined, and when it was time for Katy to go, she took thechild in her own arms again, and as if there was now a new link whichbound her to it, she kissed it many times, while in the eyes fastened solovingly, so wistfully upon its face, there was a strange, yearning lookwhich neither Helen nor Katy could fathom. Certain it is they had nosuspicion of the truth, and on their way home they spoke with muchconcern of these fainting attacks, wondering if nothing could be doneto ward them off. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE NAME. 

Wilford had wished for a son, and in the first moment of disappointmenthe had almost been conscious of a half-resentful feeling toward Katy, who had given him only a daughter. A boy, a Cameron heir, was somethingof which to be proud, especially as Jamie would always remain a helplesscripple; but a little girl, scarcely larger than the last doll withwhich Katy had played, was a different thing, and it required allWilford's philosophy and common sense to keep him from showing hischagrin to the girlish creature, whose love had fastened with anidolatrous grasp upon her child, clinging to it with a devotion whichmade Helen tremble as she thought what if God should take it from her. 

"He won't, oh, He won't, " Katy had said, when once she suggested thepossibility, and in the eyes usually so soft and gentle there was afierce gleam, as Katy hugged her baby closer to her, and said:

"God does not willfully torment us. He will not take my baby, when mywhole life would die with it. I had almost forgotten to pray, there wasso much else to do, till baby came, but now I never go to sleep at nightor waken in the morning, that there does not come a prayer of thanksfor 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 sisterand then glanced at the baby so passionately loved. In time it would bepretty, for it had Katy's perfect features, and the hair just beginningto grow was a soft, golden brown; but it was too small now, too puny tobe handsome, while in its eyes there was a scared, hunted kind of look, which chafed Wilford more than aught else could have done, for that wasthe look which had crept into Katy's eyes at Newport when she found shewas not going home. Still it was a Cameron, of royal lineage, loved atleast by four, its mother, its grandfather, Helen and Jamie, while theothers looked forward to a time when they should be proud of it, even ifthey were not so now. 

Many discussions had been held at the elder Cameron's concerning itsname, Mrs. Cameron deciding finally that it should bear her own, Margaret Augusta, while Juno advocated that of Rose Marie, inasmuch astheir new clergyman would Frenchify the pronunciation so perfectly, rolling the "_r_, " and placing so much accent on the last syllable. Atthis the Father Cameron swore as cussed nonsense--"better call itJemima, a grand sight, than saddle it with such a silly name as RoseMah-ree, with a roll to the 'r, '" and with another oath the disgustedold man departed, while Bell suggested that Katy might wish to have avoice in naming her own child. 

This was a possibility that had formed no part of Mrs. Cameron'sthoughts, or Juno's. Of course Katy would acquiesce in whatever Wilfordsaid was best, and he always thought as they did. Consequently therewould be no trouble whatever. It was time the child had a name--time itwore the elegant christening robe, Mrs. Cameron's gift, which cost moremoney than would have fed a hungry family for weeks. The matter must bedecided, and so with a view of deciding it a family dinner party washeld at No. ---- Fifth Avenue, the day succeeding the call on MarianHazleton. 

Very pure and beautiful Katy looked as she once more took her old placein the chair they called hers at Father Cameron's, because it was theone she had always preferred to any other--a large, motherlyeasy-chair, which took in nearly the whole of her petite figure, andagainst whose soft cushioned back she leaned her curly head with apretty air of importance, as after dinner was over, she came back to theparlor with the other ladies, waiting 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 neverasked her, she was keeping it a secret, not doubting that the otherswould be quite as much delighted as herself with the novel name, "Genevra. " 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 themost delightful cognomen a person could well possess. "Genevra Cameron!"She had repeated it to herself many a time as she sat with her baby onher lap. She had written it on sundry slips of paper, which hadafterward found their way into the grate; and once she had scratchedwith her diamond ring upon the window pane in her dressing-room, whereit now stood in legible characters, "Genevra Cameron!" There should beno middle name to take from the sweetness of the first--onlyGenevra--that was sufficient; and the little lady tapped her footimpatiently upon the carpet, wishing Wilford and father would hurry andcome 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 sheheard Mrs. Cameron speaking to Helen of Margaret Augusta, she smiledcomplacently, tossing her curls of golden brown, and thinking toherself, "Maggie Cameron--pretty enough, but not like Genevra. IndeedI shall not have any Margarets now; next time perhaps I may. "

Since the party at Mrs. Grandon's, Mrs. Cameron had been very kind andgracious to Helen, while Juno, who understood that Helen believed herengaged to Mark, treated her with far more attention than before, andnow both kept near to her, chatting familiarly, Mrs. Cameron about theopera, and Juno the matinée, to which they were to take her, withoutwaiting for Katy. Helen's success at the party, together with Mrs. Banker's and Sybil's evident determination to bring her forward, hadtaught them that she could not well be longer ignored, and as Juno didnot greatly dread her as a rival now, she could afford to be gracious;and she was, making herself so agreeable that Helen observed the change, imputing it to the fact that Mark had probably returned to hisallegiance, and blaming herself for having unwittingly wounded Juno byreceiving his attentions. The belief that she was adding to another'shappiness made it easier to bear the pang, which would make itself feltwhenever she recalled the kindly manner, the handsome face, and morethan all the expressive eyes, which had looked whole volumes into hers;and Helen quite enjoyed her first dinner party at the Camerons, thoughshe began to wish, with Katy, that the gentlemen would join them. 

They came at last, and Father Cameron drew his chair close to Katy'sside, laying his hand on her little soft, warm one, giving it a squeezeas the bright face glanced lovingly into his. Father Cameron was amilder, gentler man than he was before Katy came, going much oftenerinto society, and not so frequently shocking his wife with expressionsand opinions which she held as heterodox. Katy had a softening influenceover him, and he loved her as well perhaps as he had ever loved his ownchildren. 

"Better, " Juno said, and now she touched Bell's arm, to have her see"how father was petting Katy. "

But Bell did not care, while Wilford was pleased, and drew himselfnearer the chair, standing just behind it, so that Katy could not seehim as he smoothed her curly head, and said, half indifferently, "Nowfor 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, asbeing a good name--an aristocratic name, and her own. 

"Yes, but not half so pretty and striking as Rose Marie, " Juno chimedin. 

"Rose Mary! Thunder!" Father Cameron exclaimed. "Call her a marygold, ora sunflower, just as much. Don't go to being fools by giving a child aheathenish name. Give us your opinion, Katy. "

"I have known from the first, " Katy replied, "and I am sure you willagree with me. Tis such a beautiful name of a sweet young girl, andthere was a great secret about her, too--Genevra, baby will be called, "and Katy looked straight into the fire, wholly unconscious of the effectthat name had produced upon two of her auditors, Wilford and his mother. 

They did not faint, like Marian, but Wilford's face was white as marble, and his eyes turned quickly to his mother, who, in her first shock, started so violently as to throw down from the stand a costly vase, which was broken in many pieces. This occasioned a little diversion, andby the time the flowers and fragments were gathered up, Wilford's lipswere not quite as livid, but he dared not trust his voice yet, andlistened while his sisters gave their opinion of the name. Bell decidingfor it at once, and Juno hesitating until she had heard from a higherpower than Katy. One there was in that family council who seized upon iteagerly. Jamie had been brought into the parlor in his wheel-chair, andsat leaning his cheek upon his hand when the name was spoken. Then, witha sudden lighting up of his face, he exclaimed, "Genevra! I've heard itbefore. Where was it, grandma? Didn't you talk of it once with--"

"Hush-h, Jamie. Don't interrupt us now, " Wilford said, in a voice somuch sterner than he was wont to use when addressing the little boy, that Jamie shrank back abashed and frightened; while Mrs. Cameron, stillwith her back to Katy, asked, what had put that fanciful name into hermind? Where had she heard it?

Katy explained, and, with the removal of the fear which for a fewmoments had chilled his blood, Wilford grew calm again; while into hisheart there crept the thought that by giving that name to his child someslight atonement might be made to the occupant of that grave in St. Mary's churchyard--to her above whose head the English daisies hadblossomed and faded many a year. But not so with his mother--the childshould not be called Genevra if she could prevent it; and she opposed itwith all her powers, offering at last, as a great concession on herpart, to let it bear the name of any of Katy's family--Hannah and Betsymentally excepted, of course--Lucy Lennox, Helen Lennox, Katy Lennox, anything but Genevra. As usual, Wilford when he had learned her mind, joined with her, notwithstanding the secret preference, and thediscussion became quite warm, especially as Katy evinced a willfulnessfor which Helen had never given her credit. Hitherto she had been asyielding as wax, but on this point she was firm, gathering strength fromthe fact that Wilford did not oppose her as he usually did. She couldnot, perhaps, have resisted him, but his manner was not very decided, and so she quietly persisted. "Genevra, or nothing, " until the othersgave up the contest, hoping she would feel differently after a few days'reflection. But Katy knew she shouldn't; and Helen could not overcomethe exultation with which she saw her little sister put the Camerons torout and remain master of the field. 

"After all it does not matter, " Mrs. Cameron said to her daughters, when, after Mrs. Wilford had gone, she sat talking of Katy's queer fancyand her obstinacy in adhering to it. "It does not matter; and on thewhole I had as soon the christening would be postponed until the childis more presentable than now. It will be prettier by and by, and thedress will become it better. We can afford to wait. "

This heartless view of the case was readily adopted by Juno, while Bellprofessed 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 Saviorthought either of dress or personal appearance when the Hebrew mothersbrought their children to Him. But little did Mrs. Cameron or Juno carefor the baptism except as a display, and as both would be much prouderof a fine looking child, they were well content to wait until such timeas Katy should incline more favorably to their Margaret or Rose Marie. To Helen it seemed highly probable that after a private interview withWilford Katy would change her mind, and she felt a wickedly agreeabledegree of disappointment when, on the day following the dinner party, she found her sister even more resolved than ever upon having her ownway. Like the Camerons, she did not feel the necessity of haste--timeenough by and by, when she would not have so much opposition toencounter, she said; and as Wilford did not care, it was finallyarranged that they would wait a while, ere they gave a cognomen tothe little nameless child, only known as Baby Cameron. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

TROUBLE IN THE HOUSEHOLD. 

As soon as it was understood that Mrs. Wilford Cameron was able to goout, there were scores of pressing invitations from the gay world whichhad missed her so much, but Katy declined them all on the plea that babyneeded her care. She was happier at home, and as a mother it was herplace to stay there. At first Wilford listened quietly, but when hefound it was her fixed determination to abjure society entirely, heinterfered in his cool, decisive way, which always carried its point. 

"It was foolish to take that stand, " he said. "Other mothers went andwhy should not she? She had already stayed in too much. She was injuringherself, and"--what was infinitely worse to Wilford--"she was losing hergood looks. "

As proof of this he led her to the glass, showing her the pale, thinface and unnaturally large eyes, so distasteful to him. Wilford Cameronwas very proud of his handsome house, proud to know that everythingthere was in keeping with his position and wealth, but when Katy wasimmured in the nursery, the bright picture was obscured, for it neededher presence to make it perfect, and he began to grow dissatisfied withhis surroundings, while abroad he missed her quite as much, finding theopera, the party or the reception insipid where she was not, and feelingfully conscious that Wilford Cameron, without a wife, and that wifeKaty, was not a man of half the consequence he had thought himself tobe. Even Sybil Grandon did not think it worth her while to court hisattention, especially if Katy were not present, for unless some one sawand felt her triumph it ceased directly to be one. On the whole Wilfordwas not well pleased with society, as he found it this winter, andknowing where the trouble lay he resolved that Katy should no longerremain at home, growing pale and faded and losing her good looks. Wilford would not have confessed it, and perhaps was not himself awareof the fact, that Katy's beauty was quite as dear to him as Katyherself. If she lost it her value was decreased accordingly, and so asa prudent husband it behooved him to see that what was so very preciouswas not unnecessarily thrown away. It did not take long for Katy tounderstand that her days of quiet were at an end, that neither crib norcradle could avail her longer. Mrs. Kirby, selected from a host ofapplicants, was wholly competent for Baby Cameron, and Katy must throwaside the mother which sat so prettily upon her and become again thebelle. It was a sad trial, but Katy knew that submission was the onlyalternative, and so when Mrs. Banker's invitation came, she accepted itat once, but there was a sad look upon her face as she kissed her babyfor the twentieth time ere going to her dressing-maid. 

Never until this night had Helen realized how beautiful Katy was when infull evening dress, and her exclamations of delight brought a soft flushto Katy's cheek, while she felt a thrill of the olden vanity as she sawherself once more arrayed in all her costly apparel. Helen did notwonder now at Wilford's desire to have Katy with him, and very proudlyshe watched her young sister as Esther twined the flowers in her hairand then brought out the ermine cloak she was to wear as a protectionagainst the cold. 

"If they could only see you at home, " she said, while instantly therearose a thought of Dr. Grant, and Helen felt a throb of keen regret asshe contrasted the gay, airy figure with the grave, quiet Morris, whofound his chief delights in works of charity, and whose feet lingeredamid the haunts of poverty and suffering, rather than such scenes asthat to which she was going. 

But Katy's path lay far from Dr. Grant's, and only Wilford Cameron hadA right to say whither she should go or when return. He was standing byher now, making a few suggestions and expressing his approbation in away which reminded Helen of that night before the marriage, when Katy'sdress had been condemned, and of that sadder, bitterer time when shehad poured her tears like rain into that trunk returned. All she hadthought of Wilford then was now more than confirmed, but he was kind toher 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 hisface, as Katy, at the very last, ran to the nursery to kiss baby again, succeeding this time in waking it, as was proven by the cry that madeWilford scowl angrily and brought to his lips a word of rebuke forKaty's childishness. 

"You are like a girl with her first doll, " he said, as he opened thedoor for her to pass, and Helen, though she felt the truth of theremark, knew there was no necessity for him to throw so much of lordlydispleasure into his manner, and make poor Katy look so distressed andworried as they drove rapidly along the streets to Mrs. Banker's. 

The party was not so large as that at Sybil Grandon's, but it was moreselect, and Helen enjoyed it better, meeting people like Morris, whoreadily appreciated the peculiarities of her mind, and who would havemade her forget all else around her if she had not been a guest at MarkRay's house. It was the first time she had met him away from home sincethe night of Mrs. Grandon's, and as if forgetful of her reserve, he paidher 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 creepinginto her heart that she was preferred, notwithstanding that engagement. But she soon repudiated this idea as unworthy of her. She could not bewholly happy with one who, to win her hand, had trampled upon theaffections of another, even if that other were Juno Cameron. 

And so she kept out of his way as much as possible, watching her sisteradmiringly as she moved about with an easy, assured grace, or floatedlike a snow flake through the dance in which Wilford persuaded her tojoin, looking after her with a proud, all-absorbing feeling, which leftno room for Sybil Grandon's coquettish advances. 

As if the reappearance of Katy had awakened all that was weak and sillyin Sybil's nature, she now put forth her full powers of attraction, butmet only with defeat. Katy, and even Helen, was preferred beforeher--both belles of a different type; but both winning golden laurelsfrom those who hardly knew which to admire most--Katy, with her pure, delicate beauty and charming simplicity, or Helen, with her attractiveface and sober, quiet manner. But Katy grew tired early. She could notendure what she once did; and when she came to Wilford with a weary lookupon 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 forher; and he had hardly seen her at all. "

But Miss Lennox chose to go; and after her white cloak and hood passeddown the stairs and through the door into the street, there was nothingattractive for Mark in his crowded parlors, and he was glad when thelast guest had departed and he was left alone with his mother. 

Operas, parties, receptions, dinners, matineés, morning calls, drives, visits and shopping; how fast one crowded upon the other, leavingscarcely an hour of leisure to the devotee of fashion who attended tothem all. How astonished Helen was to find what high life in New Yorkimplied, ceasing to wonder that so many of the young girls grew haggardand old before their time, or that the dowagers grew selfish and hardand scheming. She would die outright, she thought, and she pitied poorlittle Katy, who, having once returned to the world, seemed destined toremain there, in spite of her entreaties and the excuses she made fordeclining the invitations which poured in so fast. 

"Baby was not well--baby needed her, " was the plea with which she metWilford's arguments, until the mention of his child was sure to bring ascowl upon his face, and it became a question in Helen's mind whether hewould not be happier if baby had never come between him and hisambition. 

To hear Katy's charms extolled, and know that she was admired, and hewas envied the possession of so rare a gem, feeling all the while sureof her faith, was Wilford's great delight, and it is not strange that, without any very strong fatherly feeling or principle of right in thatrespect, he should be irritated by the little life so constantlyinterfering with his pleasure and so surely undermining Katy's health. For Katy did not improve, as Wilford hoped she might; and with his twohands he could almost span her slender waist, while the beautiful neckand shoulders, once his chiefest pride, were no longer worn uncovered, for Katy would not display her bones, whatever the fashion might be. Inthis dilemma Wilford sought his mother, and the result of thatconsultation brought a more satisfied look to his face than it had wornfor many a day. 

"Strange he had never thought of it, when it was what so many peopledid, " he said to himself as he hurried home. "It was the very best thingboth for Katy and the child, and would obviate every difficulty. "

Next morning, as she sometimes did when more than usually fatigued, Katybreakfasted in bed; while Wilford's face, as he sat opposite Helen atthe table, had on it a look of quiet determination, such as she hadrarely seen there before. In a measure accustomed to his moods, she feltthat something was wrong, and never dreaming that he intended honoringher with his confidence, she was wishing he would finish the coffee andleave, when, motioning the servant from the room, he said abruptly, andin a tone which roused Helen's antagonistic powers at once, it was socool, so decided: "I believe you have more influence over your sisterthan I have; at least, she has latterly shown a willfulness indisregarding me and a willingness to listen to you, which confirmsme in this conclusion--"

"Well, " and Helen twisted her napkin ring nervously, waiting for him tosay more; but her manner, so different from Katy's, disconcerted him, making him a little uncertain what might be hidden behind that rigidface, confronting him so steadily, a little doubtful as to theexpression 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'sdid when he last saw it upon the pillow, for he knew how different thetwo 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 hewas somewhat uncomfortable in her presence, that her searching browneyes held him often in check; but it came to him now that his wife'ssister was in his way, for what could he do with a will almost as firmas 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. 

"Well;" that was the last sound heard in the quiet room; but since itsutterance the relative positions of the two individuals sitting oppositeeach other had changed. Wilford regarding Helen as an obstacle in hispath, and Helen regarding him as a tyrant contemplating some direfulharm against her sister. 

He must explain some time, and so at last he continued: "You must haveseen how opposed Katy is to complying with my wishes, setting them atnaught, when she knows how much pleasure she would give me by yieldingas she used to do. "

"I don't know what you mean, " Helen replied, "unless it is her aversionto going out, as that I think is the only point where her obedience hasnot been absolute. "

Wilford did not like the words "obedience" and "absolute;" that is, hedid not like the sound. Their definition suited him, but Helen'senunciation was at fault, and he answered quickly: "I do not requireabsolute obedience from Katy. I never did; but in the matter to whichyou refer, I think she might consult my wishes as well as her own. Thereis no reason for her secluding herself in the nursery as she does. Doyou 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 astrong aversion for festive scenes, and besides baby is not healthy, youknow, and like all young mothers she may be over-anxious, while I fancyshe has not the fullest confidence in the nurse, and this may accountfor her unwillingness to leave the child with her. "

Kirby was all that was desirable, Wilford replied. His mother had takenher from a genteel, respectable house in Bond Street, and he paid her anenormous price, consequently she must be right; and then there came outthe story how his mother had decided that neither Katy nor baby wouldimprove so long as they remained together--that for both a separationwas desirable--that she had recommended sending the child into thecountry, where it would be better cared for than it could be at homewith Katy constantly undoing all Mrs. Kirby had done, disregarding herorders, waking it from sleep whenever the fancy took her, and in shorttreating it much as she probably did her doll when she was a littlegirl. With the child away there would be nothing to prevent Katy's goingout as she used to do, and getting back her good looks, which weresomewhat impaired. 

"Why, she looks older than you do, " Wilford said, thinking thus toconciliate Helen, who quietly replied:

"There is not two years difference between us, and I have always beenwell, keeping 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 influenceKaty to act and think rationally upon it; "at least you will not make itworse, " he said, and this time there was something quite deferential andpleading in his manner. 

Helen knew the matter was fixed, that neither Katy's tears norentreaties would avail to revoke the decision, and so, though her wholesoul rose in indignation against a man who would deliberately send hisnursing baby from his roof because it was in his way, and was robbinghis 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 unnaturalthing. I had supposed parents less selfish than that. "

Wilford did not care what Helen had supposed, and her opposition onlymade him more resolved. Still he did not say so, and he even tried tosmile as he quitted the table and remarked to her:

"I hope to find Katy reconciled when I come home. I think I had betternot go up to her again, so tell her I send a good-by kiss by you. Ileave her case in your hands. "

It was a far more difficult case than either he or Helen imagined, andthe latter started back in alarm from the white face which greeted herview as she entered Katy's room, and then with a moan hid itself in thepillow. 

"Wilford thought he had better not come up, but he sent a kiss by me, "Helen said, softly touching the bright, disordered hair, all she couldsee of her sister. 

"It does not matter, " Katy gasped. "Kisses cannot help me if they takemy baby away. Did he tell you?" and she turned now partly toward Helen, who nodded affirmatively while Katy continued: "Had he taken a knife andcut a cruel gash it would not have hurt me half so badly. I could bearthat, 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 expressionso unlike Katy, and so like to that a hunted deer might wear if itsoffspring were in danger. 

"Say, do you think they will?" she continued, shedding back with herthin hand the mass of tangled curls which had fallen about her eyes. 

"Whom do you mean by 'they'?" Helen asked, coming near to her, andsitting down upon the bed. 

There was a resentful gleam in the blue eyes usually so gentle, as Katyanswered:

"Whom do I mean? His folks of course! They have been the instigators ofevery 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, whocontinued:

"I don't mean Father Cameron, nor Bell, nor Jamie, for I love them all, and I believe that they love me. Father does, I know, and Jamie, whileBell has helped me so often; but Mrs. Cameron and Juno--oh, Helen, youwill never know what they have been to me. "

"I notice you always say 'father' and 'Mrs. Cameron. ' Why is that?"Helen asked, hoping thus to divert Katy's mind from her present trouble, and feeling a little anxious to hear Katy's real sentiments with regardto her husband's family. 

Since Helen came to New York there has been so much to talk aboutthat, though Katy had told her of her fashionable life, she had saidcomparatively little of the Camerons. Now, however, there was no holdingback on Katy's part, and beginning with the first night of her arrivalin New York she told what is already known to the reader, and more, exonerating Wilford in word, but dealing out full justice to his motherand Juno, the former of whom controlled him so completely. 

"I tried so hard to love her, " Katy said, "and if she had given me everso little in return I would have been satisfied, but she never did--thatis, when I hungered for it most, missing you at home, and the lovingcare which sheltered me in childhood. After the world took me into favorshe too began to caress me, but I was wicked enough to think it all cameof 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 takesbaby away, I shall surely die. "

Katy had come back to the starting point, and in her eye there was thesame fierce look which Helen had at first observed. 

"Where is baby to be sent?" Helen asked, and Katy answered:

"Up the river, to a house which Father Cameron owns, and which is keptby a farmer's family. I can't trust Kirby. I do not like her. She keepsbaby asleep too long, and acts so cross if I try to wake her, or hintthat she looks unnatural. I cannot give baby to her care, with no one tolook after her, though Wilford says I must. "

"Why then do you try to resist, when you know how useless it is?" Helenasked, and something in her manner brought a sudden flush of shame toKaty's cheek, as she said:

"What do you mean? Of what are you thinking?"

Helen did not stop to consider the propriety of her remarks, butreplied:

"I was thinking that you reminded me of a bird beatings wings againstthe bars of its cage, vainly hoping to escape into the freedom which itfeels is outside its prison house, but falling back bruised and bleedingwith its efforts, and no nearer escape. "

For a moment Katy regarded her sister intently, while she seemed tryingto digest the meaning of her words; then, as it vaguely flashed uponher, tears gathered on her eyelashes and rolled down her cheeks, whilewith a quivering lip she asked:

"If you were that bird, what would you do?"

"I? What would I do? I should beat my wings until I died; but yournature is different. You are more yielding, more loving, moresubmissive. You can bear it better. "

This was not the first time since she came to New York and saw how firm, how unbending was the will which held Katy in its grasp, that Helen hadthought how surely she, with her high, imperious spirit, should die, from the very resistance she should offer to that will. But as she hadtruly expressed it, Katy's gentle, submissive nature saved her, fornever had she offered so violent opposition to any plan as she did nowto 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 itworse, so that Wilford, on his return at night, felt a pang ofself-reproach as he saw the drooping figure holding his child upon itslap and singing it a lullaby in a plaintive voice, which told how sorewas its heart. 

Wilford did not mean to be either a savage or a brute. On the contraryhe had made himself believe that he was acting only for the good of bothmother and child; but the sight of Katy touched him, and he might havegiven up the contest had not Helen unfortunately taken up the cudgels inKaty's defense, neglecting to conceal the weapons, and so defeating herpurpose. It was at the dinner from which Katy was absent that sheventured to speak, not asking that the plan be given up, but speaking ofit 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 hismanner implied as much, and Helen felt the angry blood prickling throughher veins as she listened to his reply, that it was neither unnaturalnor cruel, that many people did it, and his would not be an isolatedcase. 

"Then if it must be, " Helen said, "pray let it go to Silverton, and Iwill be its nurse. Katy will not object to that. "

In a very ironical tone Wilford thanked her for her offer, which hebegged leave to decline, intimating a preference for settling his ownmatters according to his own ideas. Helen knew that further argument wasuseless, and but for Katy, wished herself at home, where there were nowills like this with which she had unwittingly come in contact, andwhich, ignoring Katy's tears and Katy's pleading face, would not retractone iota, or even stoop to reason with the suffering mother, except toreiterate, "It is only for your good, and every one with common sensewill say so. "

Next morning Helen was surprised at Katy's proposition to drive aroundto Fourth Street, and call on Marian, whom they had not seen for severaldays. 

"I am always better after talking with her, " Katy said, "And I have astrong presentiment that she can do me good. "

"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 with her hands claspedtogether upon the table, listening intently while Marian spoke of aletter received a few days since from an old friend who had worked withher at Madam ----'s, and to whom she had been strongly attached, keepingup a correspondence with her after her marriage and removal to NewLondon, in Connecticut; and whose little child, born two months beforeKaty's, was dead, and the mother, finding her home so desolate, hadwritten, beseeching Marian to come to her for the remainder of thewinter, adding in conclusion: "If you know of any little homeless baby, bring it to me in place of mine, which God has taken. I shall thus bedoing good, and in part forget my sorrow. "

Instantly Helen and Katy glanced at each other, the same thoughtflashing upon both, and finding form in Katy's vehement outburst, "IfMrs. Hubbell would take baby, and Marian would go, too, I should be sohappy. "

In a few moments Marian had heard Katy's trouble--struggling hard tofight back the giddy faintness she felt stealing over her, as shethought of nursing Wilford Cameron's child. 

"Write to her, Marian--write to-day--now, before I go, " Katy continued, clasping Marian's hand, with an expression which, more than aught elsewon 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. I'll trust baby with you. Say, Marian, will you take care of my darling?"

It was hard to refuse, with those great, wistful, pleading eyes lookingso earnestly into hers; but Marian must have time to consider. She hadthought of going to New London to open a shop, and if she did she shouldboard with Mrs. Hubbell, and so be with the child. She would decide whenthe answer came to the letter. 

This was all the encouragement she would give; but it was enough tochange the whole nature of Katy's feelings, and her face looked brightand cheerful as she tripped down the stairway, talking to Helen of whatseemed to both like a direct interposition of Providence, and what shewas sure would please Wilford quite as well as the farmhouse up theriver. 

"Surely he will yield to me in this, " she said. Nor was she wrong; forglad of an opportunity to make some concessions, and still in the mainhave his own way, Wilford raised no objection to the plan ascommunicated to him by Katy, when, at an earlier hour than usual, hecame home to dinner, drawn thither by a remembrance of the face whichhad haunted him the entire day, and bringing as a peace offering to bothwife and sister--a new book for the one, and for the other a set ofhandsome coral, which he had heard her admire only the week before. 

These he presented with that graceful, winning manner he knew so wellhow to assume, and with the harmony of his household once more restored, felt himself a model husband as he listened to Katy's plan of sendingbaby to New London. On the whole, it might be better even than thefarmhouse up the river, he thought, for it was farther away, and Katycould not be tiring herself with driving out every few days, and keepingherself constantly uneasy and excited. The distance between New Yorkand New London was the best feature of the whole; and he wondered Katyhad not thought of it as an objection. But she had not, and but for thepain when she remembered the coming separation, she would have been veryhappy that evening, listening with Wilford and Helen to the opera of"Norma, " and sympathizing so keenly with the poor distracted mother. 

Very differently from this was Marian's evening passed, and on her facethere was a look such as Katy's had never worn, as on her knees sheasked for guidance to choose the right, to lay all self aside, and if itwere her duty and care for the child which had stirred the pulsations ofher heart and made the old wound bleed and throb with bitter anguish asshe remembered what she once hoped would be, and what but for a cruelwrong might still have been. And as she prayed there crept into her faceanother look which told that self was sacrificed at last, and KatyCameron was safe with her. 

 * * * * *

Mrs. Hubbell was willing--aye, more than that--was glad to take thechild, and the generous remuneration offered would make them socomfortable in their little cottage, she wrote to Marian, who hastenedto confer by note with Katy, adding in a postscript, "Is it still yourwish that I should go? if so, I am at your disposal. "

It was Katy's wish, and she hastened to reply, going next to the nurseryto confer with Mrs. Kirby. Dark were the frowns and dire the displeasureof that lady when told that her services would soon be no longer neededon Madison Square--that instead of going up the river as she had hoped, she was free to return to the "genteel and highly respectable home onBond Street, " where Mrs. Cameron had found her. 

"Wait till the madam comes and then we'll see, " she thought, referringto Mrs. Cameron, and feeling delighted when that very day she heard thatlady's voice in the parlor. 

But Mrs. Cameron, though a little anxious with regard to both Mrs. Hubbell's and Marian's antecedents, and a little doubtful as to theeffect a common dressmaker's nursing might have upon the child, saw atonce that Wilford was in favor of New London and so voted accordingly, only asking that she might see and talk with Marian Hazelton herself. 

"One can judge so much better from hearing one converse. If her mannershould be very bad and her grammar execrable, I should consider it myduty to withdraw my consent, " she said, with as much deliberation as ifthe matter were wholly at her disposal. "Would Katy drive around withher to Marian Hazelton's to-morrow?"

Katy would be delighted; and so next day Mrs. Cameron, the elder, washolding high her aristocratic skirts and glancing ruefully around as shefollowed Mrs. Cameron, the younger, up the three flights of stairs toMarian's door, which did not open to the assured knock, nor yet yield tothe gentle pressure. Marian was out, and there was no alternative butfor Katy to scribble a few lines upon the card she left upon the knob, telling Marian who had been there, and requesting her to call thatevening at No. ---- Fifth Avenue, as the elder Mrs. Cameron wasparticularly anxious to see her before committing her grandchild to hercare. "Please go, Marian, for my sake, " Katy added, but in reading toWilford's mother what she had written, she omitted that, and so escapeda lecture from that lady upon undue familiarity with inferiors. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

HOW IT ENDED. 

"Will Marian go to No. ---- Fifth Avenue?" Marian asked herself thatquestion many times, as with Katy's card in her hand she stood ponderingthe subject and feeling glad of the good fortune which had sent her fromhome when Wilford's mother called. 

Yes, Marian would; and at the hour between the daylight and the dark, just as the lamps are lighted in the street, and before they are usuallylighted in the parlors there was a ring at the door, whose massive platebore the name of Cameron, and the colored man who answered that ringstared at the figure he ushered in, seating it in the dim hall andasking for the name. 

"Miss Hazelton wishes to see Mrs. Cameron, " was the reply, and at thesound of that musical, well-bred voice, the servant half opened theparlor door, but closed it again as he went for his mistress, whoexpressed her surprise that Marian Hazelton should presume to enterwhere she did. 

"Maybe she is a lady, mother; Katy raves about her continually, " Bellsaid; but with an air of incredulity at the lady part, Mrs. Cameronswept haughtily down the broad staircase, the rustle of her heavy silksending a chill of fear through Marian's frame, but not affecting her somuch as did the voice; the cold, proud, metallic voice, which said toher as she half arose to her feet, "Miss Hazelton, I believe?"

At that sound there crept over her the same sensation she had felt yearsago, whenever the tones of that voice fell on her ear, for this was notthe first meeting of Mrs. Cameron and Marian Hazelton. But for all theformer guessed or knew, it was the first, and she looked curiously atthe graceful figure, but dimly seen in the shadowy twilight, noticingthe thick green veil which so nearly concealed the face, and wonderingwhy it was worn, or being worn, why it was kept so nearly down. 

"Miss Hazelton, I believe?" was all that had passed between them as yet, for at these words a great fear had come upon Marian lest her own voiceshould seem as natural as did the one which had just spoken to her. 

But she could not stand there long without answering, and so sheventured at last to say:

"Yes, I found Mrs. Wilford Cameron's note, and came around as sherequested. "

There was nothing objectionable in that remark, while the voice wasvery, very sweet and musical, so musical, indeed, so like a voice heardbefore, that Mrs. Cameron involuntarily went a step nearer to thestranger, and even thought of calling up a servant to light the gas. Butthat would perhaps be too great a civility, or at least betoken toogreat a curiosity, and so she forebore, while she began to questionMarian of her own and Mrs. Hubbell's antecedents. Both were English, both had worked upon the Isle of Wight, and later in New York, atMadam ----'s; one had married, living now in New London, and the otherStood there as Marian Hazelton, puzzling and bewildering Mrs. Cameron, who tried to recall the person of whom she was reminded by that voice andthat manner, so wholly ladylike and refined. 

Marian Hazelton pleased her, as was apparent from her expressing a wishthat "as far as practicable Miss Hazelton should take charge of thechild. We cannot tell how early life-long impression may be made, and itis desirable that they be of the right nature, and wholly in accordancewith refinement and good-breeding. "

There was a curl on Marian's lip as she remembered another meeting withthe proud lady whose words were not as complimentary as now, but shemerely bent her head in supposed acquiescence to the belief that BabyCameron was, or soon would be, capable of discriminating between a nurserefined and one the opposite. There was a moment's silence and thenMarian asked if baby had been christened?

"Not yet, we cannot decide upon a name, " was the reply, while Mariancontinued:

"I understood your daughter that it was to be Genevra. "

Marian Hazelton was growing too familiar, and so the lady deigned noanswer, but stepped a little to one side, as if she would thus indicatethat the conference was ended. 

Dropping her veil entirely over her face, for the servant was nowlighting the parlor lamps, Marian turned toward the door which Mrs. Cameron opened, and she passed out just as up the steps came Wilford, Marian's skirts brushing him as she passed, and her heart beatingpainfully as she thought of her escape and began to realize the dangershe incurred when she accepted the office of partial nurse to his child. 

"Dark, mother? How is that? Why is the hall not lighted?" she heard himsay, and the old, familiar tones, so little changed, vibrated sadly inher ear, as she dashed away a tear, and then hurried on through thedarkened streets toward her humble home, so different from the Cameron's. 

"Who was that, mother?" Wilford said, expressing regret that he had nothappened in a little earlier, so as to have seen her himself, andasking what his mother thought of her. 

"I liked her. She seemed a well-bred person, and her voice is much likeGenevra's. "

Wilford turned his eyes quickly upon his mother, who continued:

"I did not think of her, it is true, until Miss Hazelton inquired aboutbaby's name, and said she understood from Katy that it was to beGenevra. Then it came to me whose her voice was like. Genevra's, youknow, was very musical. "

"Yes, " Wilford answered, and in his eyes there was a look of pain, suchas thoughts of Genevra always brought. 

She was in his mind when he ran up his father's steps, not Genevraliving, but Genevra dead--she who slept in that lone corner of thechurchyard across the sea. "Genevra Lambert, aged twenty-two, " and notGenevra, aged nearly thirty-two, if she had been still living. Kindly, regretfully, he always spoke of her now, separating her entirely fromthe little fairy who was mistress of his house and love--Katy, who waspreferred before Genevra, and to whom no wrong was done, he thought, byhis sad memories of the beautiful English girl, whose grave was at St. Mary's, and whose picture was so securely hidden from every eye save hisown. He never liked to talk of her now, and he changed the subject atonce, asking when it would be best to send his child away. 

"Miss Hazelton is ready any time, and so I decided upon the day afterto-morrow--that will be Saturday--thus giving Katy the benefit of Sundayin which to get over it and recover her usual spirits. "

"You are sure it is right?" Wilford asked, for now that the time drewnear when the little crib at home would be empty, the nursery desolate, with no fretful, plaintive wail to annoy and worry him, he began to feelthat after all that cry was not so very vexing as he had imagined it tobe; that he might miss it when it was gone, and wish back the littlecreature which had been so greatly in his way. 

Besides this, there was a sense of injustice to Katy. Perhaps he had notbeen considerate enough of her feelings; at all events, his mother'sarranging the time of baby's departure looked like ignoring Katyaltogether, and he ventured a remonstrance. But his mother soonconvinced him of her infallible judgment; not only in that matter, butin all others pertaining to his household; and so with his good opinionof himself restored, he went home to where Katy waited for him, with herbaby in her lap, both tastefully attired, and making a most lovelypicture. Wilford kissed them both, and took his daughter in his arms, anact he had not often been guilty of, for baby tending was not altogetherto his taste. 

In the dark hours of agony which came to him afterward, he rememberedthat night, feeling again the touch of the velvet cheek and the warmthof the faint breath which floated across his face as he held his littlegirl for a moment to it, laughing at Katy's distress because "hiswhiskers scratched it. "

It was strange how much confidence Katy had in Marian Hazelton, and howthe fact that she was going to New London reconciled her to the plan, making her even cheerful during the last day of baby's stay at home. Butas the daylight waned and the night came on, a shadow began to stealacross her sunny face, and her step was slower as it went up the stairsto the nursery, while only herself that night could disrobe the littlecreature and hush it into sleep. 

"'Tis the last time, you know, " she said to Kirby, who readily yieldedher post and went out, leaving the young mother and child alone. 

Mournfully sad and sweet was the lullaby Katy sang, and Helen, in thehall, listening to the low, sad moaning, half prayer, half benediction, likened it to a farewell between the living and the dead. Half an hourlater, when she glanced into the room, lighted only by the moonbeams, baby was sleeping in her crib, which Katy knelt beside, her face buriedin her hands, and her form quivering with the sobs she tried to smotheras she softly prayed that her darling might come back again; that Godwould keep the little child and forgive the erring mother who had sinnedso deeply since the time she used to pray in the home among the hills ofMassachusetts. She was very white next morning, and to Helen she seemedto be expanding into something more womanly, more mature, as shedisciplined herself to bear the pain welling up so constantly from herheart, and at last overflowing in a flood of tears when Marian wasannounced as in the parlor below waiting for her charge. Fortunatelythere was but little time for parting kisses and fond good-byes, forMarian had purposely waited as long as possible ere coming, andexpedition was necessary if she reached the train. 

It was Katy who made her baby ready, trusting her to no one else, andrepelling with a kind of fierce decision all offers of assistance madeeither by Helen, Mrs. Cameron, Bell, or the nurse, who were present. While Katy's hands drew on the little bright, soft socks of wool, tiedthe hood of satin and lace, and fastened the scarlet cloak, her tearsfalling like rain as she met the loving, knowing look the baby was justlearning to give her, half smiling, half cooing, as she bent her facedown to it. 

"Please all of you go out, " she said, when baby was ready--"Wilford andall. I had 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 isbreaking to give you up; but will the Father in Heaven who knows howmuch you are to me, keep you from harm and bring you back again? Sometime I'd give the world to keep you, but I cannot do it, for Wilfordsays that you must go, and Wilford is your father. "

At that moment Wilford Cameron would have given half his fortune to havekept his child for Katy's sake, but it was now too late; the carriagewas at the door, and Marian, whom no one had seen but Helen, was waitingin the hall, her thick green veil dropped before her face, and a mufflerabout her mouth as if suffering from the toothache. Helen had asked ifit were so, but Marian's answer was prevented by the little processionfiling down the stairs--Mrs. Cameron and Bell, Wilford and Katy, whocarried the baby herself, her face bent over it and her tears stilldropping like rain. But it was Wilford who put his child into Marian'sextended arms, forgetting in his excitement to notice aught in the newnurse except the long, green veil which was not raised at all, even whenKaty said, pleadingly, "You will care for her, Marian, as if she wereyour own. "

"Yes, I will, I will, " was the response, spoken huskily and having init no tone like Genevra's. "I will as if it were my own, " were the lastwords Marian said as she went down the steps, followed by Wilford, towhom the thought had just occurred that he ought to see her off. 

Marian had not expected this, and the tension of her nerves was hardlyequal to the task of sitting there with Wilford Cameron opposite, hisbaby in her lap, his voice in her ear, and his eyes turned upon her asif curious to know what manner of woman she was. But the thick veil didits duty well, while the muffler answered the purpose intended; itchanged the voice which was only natural once, and that when itaddressed the baby, which began to grow restless as they drew near thedepot. Then Wilford was reminded of Genevra, and the thought carried himacross the sea, so that he forgot all else until the station was reachedand he was busy, procuring checks and ticket. He saw her into the car, procuring for her a double seat, and speaking a word for her to theconductor, whom he knew. And this he did partly for Katy's sake, andpartly because in spite of the plain attire he recognized the lady andfelt that Marian Hazelton was no ordinary person. He offered her hishand, wondering why hers trembled so in his grasp, wondering why it wasso cold, and wondering, too, why, if she had never been a wife, she worethat plain gold circlet which glittered upon her third finger. 

"They certainly call her Miss Hazelton, " he thought, as he bade hergood-by and then left her alone, going back to the house which even tohim seemed lonely, with all the paraphernalia of babyhood removed. Still, now that the worst was over, he rather enjoyed it, for Katy wasfree from care; there was nothing to hinder her gratifying his everywish, and with his spirits greatly enlivened as he reflected howsatisfactory everything had been managed at the last, he proposed takingboth 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 gonext week, but not to-night. "

So Katy had her way, but among the worshipers who next day knelt inGrace Church with words of prayer upon their lips, there was not onemore in earnest than she whose only theme was, "My child, my darlingchild. "

She did not get over it by Monday, as Mrs. Cameron had predicted. Shedid not get over it at all, though she went without a word where Wilfordwilled that she should go, and even Helen, with her sounder health andstronger constitution, grew tired of that endless round, which gave herscarcely a quiet hour at home. And Katy was a belle again, her name onevery lip, her praise in every heart, for none could feel jealous, shebore her honors so meekly, wondering why people liked her so much andloving them because they did. And none admired her more than Helen, who, scarcely less a belle herself, yielded everything to her young sisterwhom she pitied while she admired, for nothing had power to draw onelook from her blue eyes, the look which many observed, and which Helenknew sprang from the mother love, hungering for its child. Only oncebefore had Helen seen a look like this, and that came to Morris' face onthe sad night when she said to him, "It might have been. " It had beenthere ever since, and Helen, though revering him before, felt that bythe pangs with which that look was born he was a better man, just asKaty was growing better for that hunger in her heart. God was taking hisown way to purify them both, but the process was going on and Helenwatched it intently, wondering what the end would be. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

AUNT BETSY GOES ON A JOURNEY. 

Just through the woods, where Uncle Ephraim was wont to exercise oldWhitey, was a narrow strip of land, extending from the highway to thepond, and fertile in nothing except the huckleberry bushes, where thelarge, dark fruit grew so abundantly, and the rocky ledges over which afew sheep roamed, seeking for the short grass and stunted herbs, whichgave them a meager sustenance. As a whole it was comparativelyvalueless, but to Aunt Betsy Barlow it was of great importance, as itwas her own--her property--her share--set off from the old estate--theland on which she paid taxes willingly--the real estate the deed ofwhich was lying undisturbed in her hair trunk, where it had lain foryears. Several dispositions the good old lady had mentally made of thisproperty, sometimes dividing it equally between Helen and Katy, sometimes willing it all to the former, and again, when she thought ofMark Ray, leaving the interest of it to some missionary society in whichshe was greatly interested. 

How then was the poor woman amazed and confounded when suddenly thereappeared a claimant to her property; not the whole, but a part, and thatpart taking in the big sweet apple tree and the very best of the berrybushes, leaving her nothing but rocks and bogs, a pucker cherry tree, apatch 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 claimantwas 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, afact he had just discovered by looking over a bundle of deeds, in whichthe boundaries of his own farm were clearly defined. 

In her distress Aunt Betsy's first thoughts were turned to Wilford asthe man who could redress her wrongs if any one, and a long letter waswritten to him in which her grievances were told in detail and hisadvice 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 toNo. ---- Broadway, and into Wilford's hands. But with a frown and pish ofcontempt he tossed it into the grate, and vain were all Aunt Betsy'sinquiries as to whether there was any letter for her when Uncle Ephraimcame home from the office. Letters there were from Helen, and sometimesone from Katy, but none from Wilford, none for her, and her days werepassed in great perplexity and distress, until another idea tookpossession of her mind. She would go to New York herself! She had nevertraveled over half a dozen miles in the cars, it was true, but it wastime she had, and now that she had a new bonnet and shawl, as good asanybody's, she could go to York as well as not!

Wholly useless were the expostulations of the family, for she would notlisten to them, nor believe that she would not be welcome at that houseon Madison Square, to which even Mrs. Lennox had never been invitedsince Katy was fairly settled in it. Much at first had been said of hercoming, and of the room she was to occupy; but all that had ceased, andin the mother's heart there had been a painful doubt as to the reason ofthe silence, until Helen's letters enlightened her, telling her it wasnot Katy, for she was still unchanged--was still the loving, impulsivecreature who, if she could, would take all Silverton to her arms. It wasWilford who had built so high a wall between Katy and her friends;Wilford who at first had endured Helen because he must, but who now kepther with him from choice, even though she was sometimes greatly in hisway, especially when her will clashed with his and her strongerarguments for the right swept his own aside. Far better than she used, did Mrs. Lennox understand her son-in-law, and she shrank in horror fromsuffering her aunt to go where she would be so serious an annoyance, frankly telling her the reason for her objections, and asking if shewished 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'ther black silk dress made long and full, and the old pongee fixed into aBalmoral, and hadn't she a bran-new cap with purple ribbon, and couldn'tshe travel in her delaine, and didn't she wear hoops always now, exceptat cleanin' house times? Didn't she nuss both the girls, especiallyCatherine, carrying her in her arms one whole night when she had thecanker-rash, and everybody thought she'd die; and when she swalleredthat tin whistle didn't she spat her on the back and swing her in theair till she came to and blew the whistle clear across the room? Tellher that Catherine would be ashamed? she knew better!"

Then as a doubt began to cross her own mind as to Wilford's readiness toentertain her at his house, she continued:

"At any rate, the Tubbses, who moved from Silverton last fall, and whowere living in such style on the Bowery, wouldn't be ashamed, and I canstop with them at first, till I see how the land lies. They have invitedme to come, both Miss Tubbs and 'Tilda, and they are nice folks, whobelong to the Orthodox Church. Tom is in town now, and if I see him Ishall talk with him about it, even if I never go. "

Most devoutly did Mrs. Lennox and Aunt Hannah hope that Tom wouldreturn to New York without honoring the farmhouse with a call; butunfortunately for them he came that very afternoon, and instead ofthrowing obstacles in Aunt Betsy's way, urged her warmly to make theproposed 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 flashyacquaintances, of whom he did not think much, and they kept a fewboarders, but nobody had called, and mother was real lonesome. He wishedMiss 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 arrivingat the New Haven depot. "If he knew when she was coming he would meether, " he said, but Aunt Betsy could not tell; she was not quite certainwhether 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'sreturn to New York, there came a pressing invitation from the daughterMatilda, or Mattie, as she signed herself, the fever again ran high, andthis time with but little hope of its abating. 

"We shall be delighted, both mother and me, " Mattie wrote. "I will showyou all the lions of the city, and when you get tired of us you can goup to Mrs. Cameron's. I know exactly where they live, and have seen herat 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 theopera, passed her. She had wondered at Helen's going, but then she was a'Piscopal, and them 'Piscopals had queer notions about usin' the worldand not abusin' it. Still, as Helen did not attend the theatre and didattend the opera, there must be a difference in the two places, and intothe old lady's heart there slowly crept the thought that possibly shemight try the opera too, if 'Tilda Tubbs would go, and promise never totell the folks at Silverton! She should like to see what it was, andalso what full dress meant, though she s'posed it was pilin' on all theclothes you had so as to make a show; but if she wore her black silkgown with her best bunnet and shawl, she guessed that would be dressenough for her. 

This settled, Aunt Betsy began to devise the best means of getting offwith the least opposition. Both Morris and her brother would be absentfrom town during the next week, and she finally resolved to take thatopportunity for starting on her visit to New York, wisely concluding tokeep her own counsel until she was quite ready. Accordingly, on the veryday Morris and the deacon left Silverton, she announced her intention soquietly and decidedly that further opposition was useless, and Mrs. Lennox did what she could to make her aunt presentable. And Aunt Betsydid look very respectable in her dark delaine, with her hat and shawl, both Morris' gift, and both in very good taste. As for the black silkand the new cap, they were carefully folded away, one in a box and theother in a satchel she carried on her arm, and in one compartment ofwhich were sundry papers of fennel, caraway, and catnip, intended forKaty's baby, and which could be sent to it from New York. There was alsoa package of dried plums and peaches for Katy herself, and a few cakesof yeast of her own make, better than any they had in the city! Thusequipped she one morning took her seat in the Boston and New York train, which carried her swiftly on toward Springfield. 

"If anybody can find their way in New York, it is Betsy, " Aunt Hannahsaid to Mrs. Lennox, as the day wore on and their thoughts went afterthe lone woman, who with satchel, umbrella and capbox, was felicitatingin the luxury of a whole seat, and the near neighborhood of a very niceyoung man, who listened with well-bred interest while she told of hertroubles concerning the sheep pasture, and how she was going to New Yorkto consult a first-rate lawyer. 

Once she thought to tell who the lawyer was, and perhaps enhance her ownmerits in the eyes of her auditors by announcing herself as aunt to Mrs. Wilford Cameron, of whom she had no doubt he had heard--nay, more, whomhe possibly knew, inasmuch as his home was in New York, though he spentmuch of his time at West Point, where he had been educated. But certaindisagreeable remembrances of Aunt Hannah's parting injunction, "not totell everybody in the cars that she was Katy's aunt, " kept her silent onthat point, and so Lieutenant Bob Reynolds failed to be enlightened withregard to the relationship existing between the fastidious WilfordCameron of Madison Square, and the quaint old lady whose very first acton entering the car amused him vastly. At a glance he saw that she wasunused to traveling, and as the car was crowded, he had kindly offeredhis seat near the door, taking the side one under the window, and soclose to her that she gave him her capbox to hold while she adjusted herother bundles. This done and herself comfortably settled, she was justremarking that she liked being close to the door in case of a fire, whenthe conductor appeared, extending his hand officially toward her as thefirst one convenient. For an instant Aunt Betsy scanned him closely, thinking she surely had never seen him before, but as he seemed to claimacquaintance she could not find it in her kind heart to ignore himaltogether, and so she grasped the offered hand, which she tried toshake, saying apologetically:

"Pretty well, thank you, but you've got the better of me, as I don'tjustly recall your name. "

Instantly the eyes of the young man under the window met those of theconductor with a look which changed the frown gathering in the face ofthe 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 atthe bottom of my satchel, " Aunt Betsy replied, somewhat crestfallen ather mistake, and fumbling in her pocket for the key, which was finallyproduced, and one by one the paper parcels of fennel, caraway, andcatnip, dried plums, peaches and yeast cakes, were taken out, until atthe very bottom, as she had said, the ticket was found, the conductorwaiting 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 timethere was a red spot on her cheeks as she felt that she had made herselfridiculous, and hoped the girls would never hear of it. 

The young man, however, helped to reassure her, and in telling him hertroubles she forgot her chagrin, feeling very sorry that he was going onto Albany, and so down the river to West Point. West Point wasassociated in Aunt Betsy's mind with that handful of noble men whowithin the walls of Sumter were then the center of so much interest, andat parting with her companion she said to him:

"Young man, you are a soldier, I take it, from your havin' been toschool at West Point. Maybe you'll never have to use your learning, butif you do, stick to the old flag. Don't you go against that, and if anold woman's prayers for your safety can do any good, be sure you'll havemine. "

She raised her hand reverently, and Lieutenant Bob felt a kind of awesteal over him as if he might one day need that benediction, the firstperhaps given in the cause now so terribly agitating all hearts bothNorth and South. 

"I'll remember what you say, " he answered, and then as a new idea waspresented he took out a card, and writing a few lines upon it, bade herhand it to the conductor just as she was getting into the city. 

Without her glasses Aunt Betsy could not read, and thinking it did notmatter now, she thrust the card into her pocket, and bidding hercompanion good-by, took her seat in the other train. Lonely and a verylittle homesick she began to feel; for her new neighbors were notone-half as willing to talk as Bob had been, and she finally relapsedinto silence, which resulted in a quiet sleep, from which she awokejust as they were entering the long, dark tunnel, which she would havelikened to Purgatory had she believed in such a place. 

"I didn't know we ran into cellars, " she said, faintly; but nobodyheeded her, or cared for the anxious and now timid-looking woman, whogrew more and more anxious, until suddenly remembering the card, shedrew it from her pocket, and the next time the conductor appeared handedit to him, watching him while he read that "Lieutenant Robert Reynoldswould consider it as a personal favor if he would see the bearer intothe Fourth Avenue cars. "

Surely there is a Providence which watches over all; and LieutenantReynolds' thoughtfulness was not a mere chance, but the answer to thesimple trust Aunt Betsy had that God would take her safely to New York, never doubting until she reached it that she had been heard. And eventhen she did not doubt it long, for the conductor knew Lieutenant Bob, and attended as faithfully to his wishes as if it had been a bornprincess instead of Aunt Betsy Barlow whom he led to a street car, ascertaining the number on the Bowery where she wished to stop, andreporting to that conductor, who bowed in acquiescence, after glancingat the woman, and knowing intuitively that she was from the country. Could she have divested herself wholly of the fear that the conductorwould forget to put her off at the right place, Aunt Betsy would haveenjoyed that ride very much; and as it was, she looked around withinterest, thinking New York a mightily cluttered-up place, and wonderingif all the folks were in the streets. "They must be a gadding set, " shethought; and 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 thatshe did not resent it, by an attempt at sociability, asking if she knew"Mrs. Peter Tubbs, whose husband kept a store on the Bowery?"

"I have not that honor, " was the haughty reply, the lady drawing upher costly shawl and moving a little away from her interlocutor, whocontinued: "I thought like enough you might have seen 'Tilda, or Mattieshe calls herself now. She is a right nice girl, and Tom is a veryforrard boy. "

To this there was no reply; and as the lady soon left the car, AuntBetsy did not make another attempt at conversation, except to ask oncehow far they were from the Bowery, adding, as she received a civilanswer, "You don't know Mr. Peter Tubbs?"

The worthy man was evidently a stranger to the occupants of that car, and so Aunt Betsy employed her time in wondering if they kept up a sightof style. She presumed they did from what 'Tilda had written to one ofCaptain Perry's girls about their front parlor, and back parlor, andlibrary; but she did so hope their boarders were not the stuck up kind. In Mrs. Peter Tubbs herself she had the utmost confidence, knowing herto be a kind, friendly woman; and so her heart did not beat quite asfast as it would otherwise have done when the car stopped at last upona crossing, and the conductor pointed back a few doors to the right, telling her that was her number. 

"I should s'pose he might have driv right up, instead of leaving mehere, " she said, looking wistfully at the retreating car, which nowseemed almost like home. "Coats, and trousers, and jackets! I wonder ifthere is nothing else to be seen here, " she continued, as her eye caughtthe long line of clothing so conspicuously displayed in that part of theBowery. "'Tain't no great shakes, " was the feeling struggling into AuntBetsy's mind, as with Tom's outline map in hand she peered at thenumbers of the doors, finding the right one at last, and ringing thebell with a force which brought Mattie at once to the rescue. 

If Mattie was not glad to see her guest, she seemed to be, whichanswered every purpose for the tired woman, who followed her into thedark, narrow hall, filled with the sickly odor of the kitchen, and upthe narrow stairs, through a still darker hall, and into the frontparlor, which looked out upon the Bowery. This was comparativelycomfortable, for there was a fire in the stove, and the carpet the samewhich Aunt Betsy remembered to have seen in Mrs. Tubbs' best room atSilverton. But the diminutive dimensions of the apartment struck her atonce, and she mentally decided that it must be the "libry. " But, alas!the so-called "library" was a large-sized closet, or single room, at theother end of the hall, and now used as an _omnium gatherum_ for thevarious articles Mrs. Tubbs found necessary for her "back parlor, " ordining-room, where the table was set cornerwise, its soiled linen anddingy napkins presenting a striking contrast to the snowy cloth whichalways covered the table at the farmhouse, while the dry, baker's bread, and the frowsy butter were almost more than Aunt Betsy could swallow, hungry as she was. 

But all this was half an hour after the time when Mrs. Tubbs came in tomeet her, expressing genuine pleasure at seeing her there, and feelingwhat she said; for Mrs. Tubbs did not take kindly to city life, and thesight of a familiar face, which brought the country with it, was verywelcome to her. Mattie, on the contrary, liked New York, and there wasscarcely a street where she had not been, with Tom for a protector;while she was perfectly conversant with all the respectable places ofamusement--with their different prices and different grades of patrons. She knew where Wilford Cameron's office was, and also his house, for shehad walked by the latter many times, admiring the elegant curtains andfeasting her eyes upon the glimpses of inside grandeur, which sheoccasionally obtained as some one came out or went in. Once she had seenHelen and Katy enter their carriage, which the colored coachman droveaway, but she had never ventured to accost them. Katy would not haveknown her if she had, for the family had come to Silverton while she wasat Canandaigua, and as, after her return to Silverton, until hermarriage, Mattie had been in one of the Lawrence factories, they hadnever met. With Helen, however, she had a speaking acquaintance; but shehad never presumed upon it in New York, though to some of her youngfriends she had told how she once sat in the same pew with Mrs. WilfordCameron's sister when she went to the "Episcopal meeting, " and theconsideration which this fact procured for her from those who had heardof Mrs. Wilford Cameron, of Madison Square, awoke in her the ambition toknow more of that lady, and, if possible, gain an entrance to herdwelling. To this end she favored Aunt Betsy's visit, hoping thus toaccomplish 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 warmthwith which she welcomed her to that tenement on the Bowery, over aclothing store, and so small that it is not strange Aunt Betsy wonderedwhere they all slept, never dreaming of the many devices known to cityhousekeepers, who can change a handsome parlor into a kitchen orsleeping-room, and _vice versa_, with little or no trouble. But shefound it out at last, lifting her hands in speechless amazement, when, as the hour for retiring came, what she imagined the parlor bookcase wasconverted into a comfortable bed, on which her first night in New Yorkwas passed in comfort if not in perfect quiet. 

The next day had been set apart by Mattie for showing their guest thecity and possibly calling on Mrs. Wilford; but the poor old lady, unusedto travel and excitement, was too tired to venture out, seeing from thewindow more than she had seen in all her life before, and coming to theconclusion that New York must contain "a sight of folks, " judging fromthe crowds who passed that way and the glimpses she caught of othercrowds in the streets beyond. Still in some things she was disappointed. New York was not so grand as she had imagined it to be--not as grand asHelen's letters would imply; and she "didn't suppose everybody livedupstairs and kept men's clothes to sell. " The boarders, too, troubledher. They were well enough, it is true, but they were neither fineladies nor gentlemen, such as Wilford and Katy; and Aunt Betsy, whilereceiving every attention which Mrs. Tubbs could give her, was guilty ofwishing herself back in the clean, bright kitchen at home, where thewindows looked out upon woods and fields instead of that never-ceasingrush which made her dizzy and faint. On the whole she was as nearlyhomesick as she well could be, and so when Mattie asked if she wouldlike to go out that evening, she caught eagerly at the idea, as itinvolved a change, and again the opera came before her mind, in spiteof her attempts to thrust it away. 

"Did 'Tilda know if Katy went to the opera now? Did she s'pose shewould be there to-night? Was it far to the show house? What was theprice--and was it a very wicked place?"

To all these queries Mattie answered readily. She presumed Katy would bethere, as it was a new opera. It was not so very far. Distance in thecity was nothing, and it was not a wicked place, but over the priceMattie faltered. Tickets for Aunt Betsy, herself and Tom, who of coursemust go with them, would cost more than her father had to give. Thetheatre was preferable, as that came within their means, and shesuggested Laura Keene's; but from that Aunt Betsy recoiled as fromPandemonium itself. 

Catch her at a theatre--her, a deacon's sister, looked up to for asample, and who run once for vice-president of the Sewing Society inSilverton! It was too terrible to think of. But the opera seemeddifferent. Helen went there; it could not be very wrong, particularly asthe tickets were so high that bad folks could not go, and taking out herpurse Aunt Betsy counted its contents carefully, holding the billsthoughtfully for a moment, while she seemed to be balancing between whatshe knew was safe and what she feared might be wrong, at least in theeyes of Silverton. 

"But Silverton will never know it, " the tempter whispered, "and it isworth something to see the girls in full dress. "

This decided it, and Aunt Betsy generously offered "to pay the fiddler, "as she termed it, "provided 'Tilda would never let it get to Silvertonthat Betsy Barlow was seen inside a playhouse!" To Mrs. Tubbs it seemedimpossible that Aunt Betsy could be in earnest, but when she was, sheput no impediments in her way; and so, conspicuous among the crowd oftransient visitors who that night entered the Academy of Music was AuntBetsy Barlow, chaperoned by Miss Mattie Tubbs and protected by Tom, ashrewd, well-grown youth of seventeen, who passed for some years older, and consequently was a sufficient escort for the ladies under hischarge. It was not his first visit there and he managed to procure aseat which commanded a good view of several private boxes, and amongthem that of Wilford Cameron. This Mattie, who remembered where she hadseen both Helen and Katy, pointed out to the excited woman gazing abouther in a maze of bewilderment, and half doubting her own identity withthe Betsy Barlow who, six weeks before, if charged with such a sin asshe was now committing, would have exclaimed, "Is thy servant a dog todo this thing?" Yet here she was, a deacon's sister, a candidate for thevice-presidency of the Silverton Sewing Society, a woman who, forsixty-three years and a-half, had led a blameless life, frowning uponall worldly amusements and setting herself for a burning light toothers--here she was in her black silk dress, her best shawl pinnedacross her chest, and her bonnet tied in a square bow which reachednearly to her ears, which Mattie Tubbs, who tied it, had said was allthe style. Here she was, in that huge building, where the lights were soblinding 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 Fatherforgive me, " she said softly to herself, just as the orchestra struckup, thrilling her with its ravishing strains, and making her forget allelse in her rapturous delight. 

She was very fond of music and listened eagerly, beating time with bothher feet, and making her bonnet go up and down until the play commencedand 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 couldunderstand 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 sawboth Helen and Katy entering their box, and with them Mark Ray andWilford Cameron. 

Very rapidly Katy's eyes swept the house, running over the sea of headsbelow but failing to see the figure which, half arising from its seat, stood with clasped hands, gazing upon her, the tears running like rainover the upturned face, and the lips murmuring: "Darling Katy! blessedchild! She's thinner than when I see her last, but oh! so beautiful andgrand! 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 downas people were staring at her. Aunt Betsy did not hear, and if she hadshe would scarcely have cared for those who did look at her, and who, following her eyes, saw the beautiful young ladies, behind whom Wilfordand Mark were standing, but never dreamed of associating them with the"crazy thing" who sank back at last into her seat, keeping her eyesstill upon the box where Helen and Katy sat, their heads uncovered andtheir rich cloaks falling off just enough to show the astonished womanthat both their necks were uncovered, too, while Helen's arms, raised toadjust her glass, were discovered to be in the same condition. 

"Ain't they splendid in full dress?" Mattie whispered, while Aunt Betsyreplied:

"Call that full dress? I'd sooner say it was no dress at all! They'llcatch their death of cold. What would their mother say?"

Then as the enormity of the act grew upon her, she continued more toherself 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 otherfull-dressed ladies, the first shock passed away, and she could calmlycontemplate Katy's dress, wondering what it cost, and then letting hereyes pass on to Helen, to whom Mark Ray seemed so loverlike that AuntBetsy remembered her impressions when he stopped at Silverton, her heartswelling with pride as she thought of both the girls making out so well. 

"Who is that young man talking to Helen?" Mattie asked, between theacts, and when told that it was "Mr. Ray, Wilford's partner, " she drewher breath eagerly, and turned again to watch him, envying the younggirl who did not seem as much gratified with the attentions as Mattiefancied she should do were she in Helen's place. 

How could she, with Juno Cameron just opposite, watching her jealously, while Madam Cameron fanned herself in dignity, refusing to look uponwhat she so greatly disapproved. 

But Mark did not care who was watching him, and continued his attentionsuntil Helen wished herself away, and though a good deal surprised, wasnot sorry when Wilford abruptly declared the opera a bore, and suggestedgoing home. 

They would order an ice, he said, and have a much pleasanter time intheir own private parlor. 

"Please don't go; I rather like the play to-night, " Katy said; but onWilford'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 rosein the last act, left their box, Juno wondering at the movement, andhoping Mark would now come around to her, while Aunt Betsy lookedwistfully after them, but did not suspect she was the cause of theirexit, and of Wilford's evident perturbation. 

Running his eye over the house below, it had fallen upon the trio, AuntBetsy, Mattie and Tom, the first of whom was at that moment partlystanding, while she adjusted her heavy shawl, which the heat of thebuilding had compelled her to unfasten. 

There was a start, a rush of blood to the head and face, and then hereflected 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 fullytoward him, while Wilford seized Katy's glass and leveled it at her. Hewas not mistaken. It was Aunt Betsy Barlow, and Wilford felt theperspiration oozing out beneath his hair and about his lips, as heremembered the letter he had burned, wishing now that he had answeredit, and so, perhaps, have kept her from his door. For she was comingthere, nay, possibly had come, since his departure from home, andlearning his whereabouts, had followed on to the Academy of Music, leaving her baggage where he should stumble over it on entering thehall. 

Such was the fearful picture conjured up by Wilford's imagination, ashe stood watching poor Aunt Betsy, a dark cloud on his brow and fierceanger 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 pieceof effrontery of which that class is not capable, " he thought, wonderingnext who the vulgar-looking girl and _gauche_ youth were who were withher. 

"Country cousins, of whom I have never heard, no doubt, " and he groundhis teeth together as with his next breath he suggested going home, carrying out his suggestion and hurrying both Helen and Katy to thecarriage as if some horrible dragon had been on their track. 

There was no baggage in the hall, there had been no woman there, andWilford's fears for a time subsided, but growing strong again about thetime he knew the opera was out, while the sound of wheels coming towardhis door was sufficient to make his heart stop beating and every hairprickle at its roots. 

But Aunt Betsy did not come except in Wilford's dreams, which shehaunted the entire night, so that the morning found him tired, moody, and cross. That day they entertained a select dinner party, and as thiswas something in which Katy rather excelled, while Helen's presence, instead of detracting from, would add greatly to the _éclat_ of theaffair, 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 havegiven the dinner up. But it was too late for that; the guests werebidden, the arrangements made, and there was nothing now for him butto abide the consequences. 

"She shall at least stay in her room, if I have to lock her in, " hethought, as he went down to his office without even kissing Katy orbidding her good-by. 

But business that day had no interest for him, and in a listless, absentway he sat watching the passers-by and glancing at his door as if heexpected 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 timeand spread itself over his house, he could endure the suspense nolonger, and startled Mark with the announcement that he was going home, and should not return again that day. 

"Going home, when Leavitt is to call at three!" Mark said, in muchsurprise, and feeling that it would be a relief to unburden himself tosome one, the story came out how Wilford had seen Aunt Betsy at theopera, 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, tenthousand--than have her with us to-day. I did not marry my wife'srelations, " he continued, excitedly, adding, as Mark looked quickly up, "Of course I don't mean Helen. She is right; and though she rasps me alittle, I'd rather have her than not. Neither do I mean that doctor, forhe is a gentleman. But this Barlow woman--oh! Mark, I am all of drippingsweat just to think of it. "

He did not say what he intended doing, but with Mark Ray's ringing laughin his ears, passed into the street, and hailing a stage was driventoward home, just as a downtown stage deposited on the walk in front ofhis office "that Barlow woman" and Mattie Tubbs!

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

AUNT BETSY CONSULTS A LAWYER. 

Aunt Betsy did not rest well after her return from the opera. Noveltyand excitement always kept her awake, while her mind was not wholly atease with regard to what she had done. Not that she really felt she hadcommitted a sin, except so far as the example might be bad, but shefeared the result, should it ever reach the orthodox church at Silverton. 

"There's no telling what Deacon Bannister would do--send a subpoenaafter me, for what I know, " she thought, as she laid her tired head uponher pillow and went off into that weary state halfway between sleep andwakefulness, a state in which operas, play actors, Katy in full dress, Helen and Mark Ray, choruses, music by the orchestra, to which she hadbeen guilty of beating her foot, Deacon Bannister and the whole offendedbrotherhood, with constable and subpoenas, were pretty equally blendedtogether--the music which she liked, and the subpoena which she fearedtaking the precedence of the others. 

But with the daylight her fears subsided, and at the breakfast tableshe was hardly less enthusiastic over the opera than Mattie herself, averring, however; that "once would do her and she had no wish to goagain. "

The sight of Katy looking so frail and delicate, but so beautifulwithal, had awakened all the olden intense love she had felt for herdarling, and she could not wait much longer without seeing her "in herown home and hearing her blessed voice. "

"Hannah, and Lucy amongst 'em, advised me not to come, " she said to Mrs. Tubbs, "hinting that I might not be wanted up there; but now I'm here Ishall go if I don't stay more than an hour. "

"Of course I should, " Mattie answered, herself anxious to stand beneathWilford Cameron's roof and see Mrs. Wilford at home. "She don't look asproud as Helen, and you are her aunt, her blood kin, so why shouldn'tyou go there if you like?"

"I shall--I am going, " Aunt Betsy replied, feeling that to take Mattiewith 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 toProvidence, " was her final decision, and so after an early lunch shestarted out with Mattie as her escort, suggesting that they visitWilford's office first and get that affair out of her mind. 

At this point Aunt Betsy began to look upon herself as a most hardenedwretch, wondering at the depths of iniquity to which she had fallen. Theopera was the least of her offenses, for she was not harboring pride andcontriving how to be rid of 'Tilda Tubbs, as clever a girl as everlived, hoping that if she found Wilford he would see her home, and sosave 'Tilda the trouble? Playhouses, pride, vanity, subterfuge anddeceit--it was a long catalogue she would have to confess to DeaconBannister, if confess she did, and with a groan the conscience-smittenwoman followed her conductor along the street, and at last into thestage which took them to Wilford's office. 

Broadway was literally jammed that day, and the aid of two policemen wasrequired to extricate the bewildered countrywoman from the mass ofvehicles and horses' heads, which took all her sense away. Tremblinglike a leaf when Mattie explained that the "two nice men" who haddragged her to the walk were police officers, and thinking again of thesubpoena, the frightened woman who had escaped such peril, followed upthe two flights of stairs and into Wilford's office, where she sankbreathless into a chair, while Mark, not in the least surprised, greetedher cordially, and very soon succeeded in getting her quiet, bowing sograciously to Mattie when introduced that the poor girl dreamed of himfor many a night, and by day built castles of what might have been hadshe been rich, instead of only 'Tilda Tubbs, whose home was on theBowery. Why need Aunt Betsy in her introduction have mentioned thatfact? Mattie thought, her cheeks burning scarlet; or why need sheafterward speak of her as 'Tilda, who was kind enough to come with herto the office where she hoped to find Wilford? Poor Mattie, she knewsome things very well, but she had never yet conceived of theimmeasurable distance between herself and Mark Ray, who cared but littlewhether her home were on the Bowery or on Murray Hill, after the firstsight which told him what she was. He was very polite to her, however, for it was not in his nature to be otherwise, while the fact that shecame with Helen's aunt gave her some claim upon him. 

"Mr. Cameron had just left the office and would not return that day, "he said to Aunt Betsy, asking if he could assist her in any way, andassuring her of his willingness to do so. 

Aunt Betsy could talk with him better than with Wilford, and was aboutto give him the story of the sheep pasture in detail, when, motioning toa side door, he said, "Walk in here, please. You will not be liable toso many interruptions. "

"Come, 'Tilda, it's no privacy, " Aunt Betsy said; but Tilda feltintuitively that she was not wanted, and rather haughtily declined, amusing herself by the window, while Aunt Betsy in the private officetold her troubles to Mark Ray; and received in return the advice to letthe claimant go to law if he chose, he probably would make nothing byit, and even if he did, she would not sustain a heavy loss, according toher own statement of the value of the land. 

"If I could keep the sweet apple-tree, I wouldn't care, " Aunt Betsysaid, "for, the rest ain't worth a lawsuit; though it's my property, andI 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' party Helen's manner had puzzled him; but her shynessonly made him more in love than ever, while the rumor of her engagementwith Dr. Morris tormented him continually. Sometimes he believed it, andsometimes he did not, wishing always that he knew for certain. Here thenwas a chance for confirming his fears or for putting them at rest, andblessing 'Tilda Tubbs for declining to enter his back office, he said inreply 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, " AuntBetsy exclaimed, while Mark, raised to an ecstatic state, replied, "Irefer 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 goodold lady, who continued in a confidential tone: "I used to think they'dmake a good match; but I've gin that up, and now I sometimes mistrust'twas Katy, Morris wanted. Anyhow, he's mighty changed since she wasmarried, and he never speaks her name. I never heard anybody say so, andmaybe it's all a fancy, so you won't mention it. "

"Certainly not, " Mark replied, drawing nearer to her, and continuing ina low tone, "Isn't it possible that after all Helen is engaged to hercousin, and you do not know it?"

"No, " and Aunt Betsy grew very positive. "I am sure she ain't, for onlyt'other day I said to Morris that I wouldn't wonder if Helen and anotherchap had a hankerin' for one another; and he said he wished it might beso, for you--no, that other chap, I mean--would make a splendidhusband, " and Aunt Betsy turned very red at the blunder, which made MarkRay feel as if he walked on air, with no obstacle whatever in his path. 

Still he could not be satisfied without probing her a little deeper, andso 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 wasquizzing her, just as she felt that in some way she had removed astumbling block from his path. She had--a very large stumbling block, and in the first flush of his joy and gratitude he could do mostanything. So when she spoke of going up to Katy's, he set himselfindustriously at work to prevent it for that day at least. "They were tohave a large dinner party, " he said, "and both Mrs. Cameron and MissLennox would be wholly occupied. Would it not be better to wait untilto-morrow? Did she contemplate a long stay in New York?"

"No, she might go back to-morrow--certainly the day after, " Aunt Betsyreplied, her voice trembling at this fresh impediment thrown in the wayof her seeing Katy. 

The quaver in her voice touched Mark's sympathy. "She was old andsimple-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 shoulddie if compelled to stay there long; he would take her to his mother'sand keep her until the morrow, and perhaps until she left for home;telling Helen that night, of course, and then suffering her to actaccordingly. "

This he proposed to his client; assuring her of his mother's entirewillingness to receive her, and urging so many reasons why she should gothere, instead of "up to Katy's, " where they were in such confusion thatAunt Betsy was at last persuaded, and was soon riding uptown in aTwenty-third Street stage, with Mark Ray her _vis-à-vis_ and Mattie ather right. Why Mattie was there Mark could not conjecture; and perhapsshe did not know herself, unless it were that, disappointed in her callon 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 ahandsome brownstone front, near Fifth Avenue Hotel, Mark said to her, asif she were not of course expected to go in, "Please tell your motherthat Miss Barlow is stopping with Mrs. Banker to-day. Has she baggage atyour house?--If so, we will send around for it at once. Your number, please?"

His manner was so offhand and yet so polite that Mattie could neitherresist him, nor yet be angry, though there was a sad feeling ofdisappointment at her heart as she gave the required number, and thenshook Aunt Betsy's hand, whispering in a choked voice:

"You'll come to us again before you go home?"

"Of course I shall, " Aunt Betsy answered, feeling that something waswrong, and wondering if she herself were in fault. 

With a good-by to Mark, whose bow atoned for a great deal, Mattie walkedslowly away, leaving Mark greatly relieved. Aunt Betsy was as much as hecared to have on his hands at once, and as he led her up the steps, hebegan to wonder more and more what his mother would say to his bringingthat stranger into her house, unbidden and unsought. 

"I'll tell her just the truth, " was his rapid decision, and assuminga manner which warned the servant who answered his ring neither to becurious nor impertinent, he conducted his charge into the parlor, andbringing her a chair before the grate, went in quest of his mother, whohe found was out. 

"Kindle a fire then in the front guest chamber, " he said, "and see thatit is made comfortable as soon as possible. "

The servant bowed in acquiescence, wondering who had come, and feelingnot a little surprised at the description given by John of the woman hehad let into the house, and who now in the parlor was looking around herin astonishment and delight, thinking she had found New York at last, and condemning herself for the feeling of homesickness with which sheremembered the Bowery, contrasting her "cluttered quarters" there withthe elegance around her. "Was Katy's house as fine as this?" she askedherself, feeling intuitively that such as she might be out of place init, just as she began to fear she was out of her place here, bemoaningthe fact that she had forgotten her capbox, with its contents, and socould not remove her bonnet, as she had nothing with which to cover hergray head. 

"What shall I do?" she was asking herself, when Mark appeared, explainingthat his mother was absent, but would be at home in a short time. 

"Your room will soon be ready, " he continued, "and meantime you mightlay aside your wrappings here if you find them too warm. "

There was something about Mark Ray which inspired confidence, and in herextremity Aunt Betsy gasped, "I can't take off my bunnet till I get mycaps down to Mrs. Tubbs'. Oh, what a trouble I be. "

Not exactly comprehending the nature of the difficulty, Mark suggestedthat she go without a cap until he could send for them; but Aunt Betsy'sassertion that "she was grayer than a rat, " enlightened him with regardto her dilemma, and full permission was given for her "to sit in herbonnet" until such time as a messenger could go to the Bowery and back. In this condition she had better be in her own room, and as it was inreadiness, Mark himself conducted her to it, the stern gravity of hisface putting down the laugh which sprang to the waiting maid's eyes atthe old lady's ejaculations of surprise and amazement that anythingcould be so fine as the house where she so unexpectedly found herself aguest. 

"She is unaccustomed to the city, but a particular friend of mine; sosee that you treat her with respect, " was all the explanation hevouchsafed to the curious girl. 

But that was enough. A friend of Mr. Ray's must be somebody, even if shesat with two bonnets on instead of one, and appeared ten times morerustic than Aunt Betsy, who breathed freer when she found herself aloneupstairs, and knew her baggage would soon be there. 

In some little trepidation Mark paced up and down the parlor waitingfor his mother, who came ere long, expressing her surprise to find himthere, 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 thesaucy, winning smile she could never resist, and continuing, "To be inat 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 themost 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 feltjealous of the girl whom she had guessed was dearer to her son than everhis mother could be again, but she was a sensible woman. She knew thatit was natural for another and a stronger love to come between her andher boy. She liked Helen Lennox. She was willing to take her as adaughter, and she said so at last, and listened half amazed and halfamused to the story which had in it so much of Aunt Betsy Barlow, whohad cleared away his doubts, and who at that very moment was an occupantof their best guest chamber, sitting with her bonnet on, and waiting forher cap from the Bowery. 

"Perhaps it was wrong to bring her home, " he added, "but I did it tospare Helen. I knew just what a savage Wilford would be if he found herthere, where she would be in the way. Say, mother, was I wrong?"

He was not often wrong in his mother's estimation, and certainly he wasnot now, when he kissed her so often, begging her to say he had doneright. 

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 littledoubtful, Mark came to look upon himself as a very nice young man, whohad done a most unselfish act, for of course he had not been influencedby any desire to keep Aunt Betsy from the people who would be present atthe dinner, neither had Helen been at all mixed up in the affair. 

It was all himself, and he began to whistle "Annie Laurie" verycomplacently, thinking the while what a clever fellow he was, andmeditating other dangerous acts toward the old lady overhead, standingby the window, and wondering what the huge building could be gleamingso white in the fading light. 

"Looks as if it was made of stone cheena, " she thought, just as Mrs. Banker appeared, her kind, friendly manner making Aunt Betsy feel whollyat ease, as she answered the lady's questions or volunteered remarks ofher own. 

Mrs. Banker had lived in the country, and had seen just such women asAunt Betsy Barlow, understanding her intrinsic worth, and knowing howHelen Lennox, though her niece, could still be refined and cultivated. She could also understand how one educated as Wilford Cameron had beenwould shrink from coming in contact with her, and possibly be rude ifshe thrust herself upon him. Mark did well to bring her here, shethought, as she left the room to order the tea which the tired woman somuch needed. The satchel, umbrella and capbox, with a note from Mattie, had by this time arrived, and in her Sunday cap, with the purple bows, Aunt Betsy felt much better, and enjoyed the tempting little supper, served on silver and Sèvres china, the attendant waiting in the hallinstead of in her room, where her presence might embarrass oneunaccustomed to such usages. They were thoughtful, very kind, and hadMark been her own son she could not have been more deferential than heappeared 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 askthe price of the diamond pin which fastened the point lace collar. Fivehundred dollars seemed an enormous sum, but Aunt Betsy was learning fastnot to say all she thought, and merely remarked that Katy had somediamonds, too, which she presumed cost full as 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, though she guessed she should stayup till they came home, so as to hear about the doin's, " and with agood-by she sent them away, after saying to Mrs. Banker, "Maybe youain't the kissin' kind, but if you be, I wish you would kiss Katy oncefor 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. Bankerraised her hand to her mischievous son, who ran lightly down the stairs, carrying a happier heart than he had known since Helen Lennox had firstcome to New York, and he had met her at the depot. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE DINNER PARTY. 

It was a very select party which Wilford Cameron entertained thatevening; and as the carriages rolled to his door and deposited theguests, the cloud which had been lifting ever since he came home andfound "no Barlow woman" there, disappeared entirely, leaving him theblandest, most urbane of hosts, pleased with everybody--himself, hisguests, his sister-in-law, and his wife, who had never looked betterthan she did to-night, in pearls and light blue silk, which harmonizedso perfectly with her waxlike complexion. Like some little fairy sheflitted through the rooms, receiving, with a sweet childlike grace thekiss which Mrs. Banker gave her, but never dreaming from whom it came. Aunt Betsy's proximity was wholly unsuspected, both by her and Helen, who was very handsome to-night, in crimson and black, with lilies in herhair. Nothing could please Mark better than his seat at table, where hecould look into her eyes, which dropped so shyly whenever they met hisardent gaze. Helen was beginning to doubt the story of his engagementwith Juno, or at least to think that it might possibly have been brokenoff. Certainly she could not mistake the nature of the attentions hepaid to her, especially to-night, when he hovered continually near her, totally ignoring Juno's presence, and conscious apparently of only oneform, one face, and that the face and form of Helen Lennox. 

There was another, too, who felt the influence of Helen's beauty, andthat was Lieutenant Bob, who, after dinner, attached himself to herside, while around them gathered quite a group, all listening with pealsof laughter as Bob, who was something of a mimic, related his adventureof two days before, with "the most rustic and charming old lady it wasever his fortune to meet. " Told by Bob the story lost nothing of itsfreshness; for every particular, except indeed the kindness he had shownher, was related, even to the sheep pasture, about which she was goingto New York to consult a lawyer. 

"I thought once of referring her to you, Mr. Cameron, " Bob said; "butcouldn'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; for Wilford knewwho was the heroine of that story; wondering more and more where shewas, and feeling a sensation of uneasiness as he thought, "Can anyaccident have befallen her?"

It was hardly probable; but Wilford felt very uncomfortable afterhearing the story, which had brought a pang of doubt and fear to anothermind 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 Bobcould 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'sprojected visit to New York, privately writing to her mother not tosuffer it, as Wilford would be so greatly vexed. "Yes, it must be AuntBetsy, " she thought, and she turned so white that Mark, who was watchingboth her and Wilford, came as soon as possible to her side, and adroitlyseparating from the group around, said softly: "You look tired, MissLennox. Come with me a moment. I have something to tell you. "

Alone with her in the hall, he continued, "I have the sequel of BobReynolds' story. That woman--"

"Was Aunt Betsy, " Helen gasped. "But where is she now? That was two daysago. Tell me if you know. Mr. Ray, you do know, " and in her agony offear 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 hereyes, and feel the soft touch of the hand which he took between both hisown, 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. Wasthat right?" he asked as a flush came to Helen's cheek, and anexpression to her eye which told that his meaning was understood. 

"Is she there willingly? How did it happen?" was Helen's reply, herhand still in those of Mark, who thus circumstanced grew very warm andeloquent 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, sayingmore to herself than him: "And she was at the opera. Wilford must haveseen her, and that is why he left so suddenly, and why he has appearedso absent and nervous to-day, as if expecting something. Excuse me, " shesuddenly added, drawing her hand away and stepping back a little, "Iforgot that I was talking as if you knew. "

"I do know more than you suppose--that is, I know human nature--and Iknow Will better than I did that morning when I first met you, " Marksaid, 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 unpleasantfor us all had she happened here to-night. I thank you, Mr. Ray--you andyour mother, too--more than I can express. I will see her early to-morrowmorning. Tell her so, please, and again I thank you. "

There were tears in Helen's soft brown eyes, and they glittered likediamonds 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 thegayest crowd that ever frequented the Park, and sworn she was his bloodrelation! A few words from Mrs. Banker confirmed what Mark had said, andit was not strange if that night Miss Lennox, usually so entertaining, was a little absent, for her thoughts were up in that chamber onTwenty-third Street, where Aunt Betsy sat alone, but not lonely, forher mind was very busy with all she had been through since leavingSilverton, while something kept suggesting to her that it would havebeen wiser and better to have stayed at home than to have ventured whereshe was so sadly out of place. This last came gradually to Aunt Betsyas she thought the matter over, and remembered Wilford as he hadappeared 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, withoutlarnin', without nothin'. I might know I wasn't wanted, " and a rain oftears fell over the wrinkled face as she uttered this tirade againstherself, standing before the long mirror and inspecting the image itgave back of a plain, unpolished countrywoman, not much resembling Mrs. Banker, it must be confessed, nor much resembling the gay young ladiesshe had seen at the opera the previous night. "I won't go near Katy, "she continued; "it will only mortify her, and I don't want to make hertrouble. The poor thing's face looked as if she had it now, and I won'tadd to it. I'll start for home to-morrow. There's Miss Smith, inSpringfield, will keep me overnight, and Katy shan't be bothered. "

When this decision was reached Aunt Betsy felt a great deal better, andtaking the Bible from the table, she sat down again before the fire, opening, as by a special Providence, to the chapter where hewers of woodand drawers of water are mentioned as being necessary to mankind, eachfilling his appointed place. 

"That's me--that's Betsy Barlow, " she whispered, taking off her glassesto wipe away the moisture gathering so fast upon them. Then resumingthem, she continued: "I'm a hewer of wood--a drawer of water. God mademe so, and shall the clay find fault with the potter for making it intoa homely jug? No, indeed; and I was a very foolish old jug to think ofsticking myself in with the chinaware. But I've larnt a lesson, " and thephilosophic woman read on, feeling comforted to know that though avessel of the rudest make, a paltry jug, as she called herself, thepromises were still for her as much as for the finer wares--ay, thatthere was more hope of her entering at last where "the walls are all ofprecious stones and the streets are paved with gold, " than of thosewhose good things are given so abundantly during their lifetime. 

Assured, comforted, and encouraged, she fell asleep at last, and whenMrs. Banker returned she found her slumbering quietly in her chair, theBible open on her lap, and her finger upon the passage referring to thehewers of wood and drawers of water, as if that was the last thing read. 

Next morning, at a comparatively early hour, Helen stood ringing thebell of Mrs. Banker's house. She had passed a restless, but notaltogether wretched night, for the remembrance of Mark's kindness inkeeping Aunt Betsy away, and his manner while telling her of it wouldnot permit of her being more than anxious as she lay awake, wonderingwhy Mark was so kind, and if it could be possible that he was free fromJuno and cared for her. It made her happy to think so, and her face, asshe stood upon the steps, looked bright and fresh, instead of pale andtired, as it usually did after a night of wakefulness. She had said toKaty that she was going out and could not tell just when she mightreturn, and as Katy never questioned her acts, while Wilford was toointent upon his own miserable thoughts as to "where Aunt Betsy could beor what had befallen her, " to heed any one else, no inquiries were madeand no obstacles put in the way of her going to Mrs. Banker's, whereMark met her himself, holding her cold hand until he led her to the fireand 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 thedoor for Aunt Betsy, who wept like a little child at the sight of Helen, accusing herself of being a fool, an old fool, who ought to be shut upin the insane asylum, but persisting in saying she was going home thatvery day without seeing Katy at all. "If she was here I'd like it, but Ishan't go there, for I know Wilford don't want me. Say, Helen, don't youthink he'll be ashamed of me and wish I was in Guinea?" she asked as herdesire to see Katy grew stronger, but was met and combated with herdread of Wilford!

Helen could not tell her he would be ashamed, but Aunt Betsy knew shemeant it, and with a fresh gush of tears she gave the project upentirely, telling Helen all she did not already know of her trip to NewYork, her visit to the opera, her staying with the Tubbses and hermeeting with Mark, the best young chap she ever saw, not even exceptingMorris. "If he was my own son, he couldn't be kinder, " she added, "and Imistrust he hopes to be my nephew. You can't do better, and if heoffers, take him. "

Helen's cheeks were crimson as she waived this part of the conversationand wished aloud that she had come around in the carriage, as she couldthus 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 tend to it. "

Aunt Betsy was right, for when Mark and his mother joined their guestsand learned that Aunt Betsy's intention was unchanged, he suggested theride and offered the use of their carriage. Helen did not decline theoffer, and ere half an hour had passed, Aunt Betsy, with her satchel, umbrella and capbox, was comfortably adjusted in Mrs. Banker's carriagewith Helen beside her, while Mark bade his coachman drive wherever MissLennox wished to go, taking care to reach the train in time. 

They were tearful thanks which Aunt Betsy gave to her kind friends asshe was driven away, going first to the Bowery to say good-by and leavethe packages of fruits and herbs, lest the Tubbses should "think hersuddenly stuck up. "

"Would you mind taking 'Tilda in? It would please her mightily, " AuntBetsy whispered, as they were alighting in front of Mr. Peter Tubbs';and as the result of this suggestion the carriage, when again it emergedinto Broadway, held Mattie Tubbs, happier, prouder than she had been inall her life before, while the gratified mother at home felt amplyrepaid for all the trouble her visitor had made her. 

And Helen enjoyed it, too, finding Mattie a little insipid and tiresome, it is true, but feeling happy in the consciousness that she was makingothers happy. It was a long drive they took, and Aunt Betsy saw so muchthat her brain grew giddy and she was glad when they started for thedepot, taking Madison Square on the way and passing Katy's house. 

"I dare say it is all grand and smart, " Aunt Betsy said, leaning out tolook at it, "but I feel best at hum where they are used to me. "

And her face did bear 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 asshe kissed Helen good-by and shook hands with Mattie Tubbs, thanking herfor her kindness in seein' to an old woman, and charging her again neverto let the folks in Silverton know that "Betsy Barlow had once been seenat a playhouse. "

Slowly the cars moved away and Helen was driven home, leaving Mattiealone in her glory as she rolled down the Bowery, enjoying greatly the_éclat_ of her position, but feeling a little chagrined at not meeting asingle acquaintance by whom to be envied and admired. Only Tom saw heralight, giving vent to a whistle, and asking if she didn't feel big, ashe tried to hold out his pantaloons in imitation of her dress and walkas she disappeared through the door where the dry goods were swinging. 

Katy did not ask where Helen had been, for she was wholly absorbed inMarian Hazelton's letter, telling how fast the baby improved, how prettyit 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, " Katysaid, putting the letter away, and sighing wearily as she missed theclasp of the little arms and touch of the baby lips. 

Several times Helen was tempted to tell her of Aunt Betsy's visit, butdecided finally not to do so as it might distress her to know thatstrangers rendered the hospitalities it was her duty to give, and soKaty never guessed the truth, nor knew what it was which for many daysmade Wilford so nervous and uneasy, starting quickly at every suddenring, going often to the window, and looking out into the street as ifexpecting some one who never came, while he grew strangely anxious fornews from Silverton, asking when Katy had heard from home, and why shedid not write. One there was, however, who knew and who enjoyed itvastly, watching Wilford closely, and guessing just how his anxietygrew as day after day went by; and she neither came nor was heard fromin any way, for Helen did not show the letter apprising her of AuntBetsy's safe arrival home, and so all in Wilford's mind was left a vagueconjecture. 

He had seen her, she had been in New York, as was proven by BobReynolds, but where was she now, and who were those people with her? Hadthey entrapped her into some snare, and possibly murdered her? It mightbe. Such things were not of rare occurrence, and Wilford actually grewpoor with the uncertainty which hung over the fate of one whom in hispresent state of mind he would have warmly welcomed to his fireside, hadthere been a dozen dinner parties in progress. At last, as he sat oneday in his office, with the same worried look on his face, Mark, who hadalso been watching him, said:

"By the way, Will, how did that sheep pasture come out, or didn't theclient appear?"

"Mark, " and Wilford's voice was husky with emotion; "you've stumbledupon the very thing which is tormenting my life out of me. Aunt Betsyhas never turned up or been heard from since that night. For aught Iknow she was murdered, or spirited away, and I am half distracted. I'dgive a thousand dollars to know what has become of her. "

"Put down half that pile and I'll tell you, " was Mark's nonchalantreply, while Wilford, seizing his shoulder and compelling him to lookup, exclaimed:

"You know, then? Tell me--you do know? Where is she?"

"Safe in Silverton, I presume, " was the reply, and then Mark told hisstory, to which Wilford listened, half incredulous, half indignant, anda good deal relieved. 

"You are a splendid fellow, Mark, though I must say you meddled, but Iknow you did not do it unselfishly. Yes, on the whole, I thank you andHelen, too, 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. Andthat Tom, who called here yesterday, asking to be our clerk, is theyouth I saw at the opera. I thought his face was familiar. Let him comeof course. In my gratitude I feel like patronizing the entire Tubbsfamily. "

And so it was this flash of gratitude for a peril escaped which procuredfor young Tom Tubbs the situation of clerk in the office of Cameron andRay, the application for such situation having been urged by theambitious Mattie, who felt her dignity considerably increased when shecould speak of Brother Tom in company with Messrs. Cameron & Ray. And itwas also a part of the same gratitude which suggested the huge packageof merino and gingham, calico and linen, together with the handsome silkshawl and black lace veil, which a few days later was left by theexpress boy at the door of the farmhouse for Miss Betsy Barlow, who ina long letter overwhelmed Katy with her thanks, and nearly let out hervisit to New York, as yet a secret to Mrs. Wilford. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

THE SEVENTH REGIMENT. 

Does the reader remember the pleasant spring days of four years ago, when the thunder of Fort Sumter's bombardment came echoing up to theNorthern hills and across the Western prairies, stopping for a momentthe pulses of the nation, but quickening them again with a mighty poweras from Maine to California man after man arose to smite the maddenedfoe trailing our honored flag in the dust? Nowhere, perhaps, was theexcitement so great or the feeling so strong as in New York, when theSeventh Regiment was ordered on to Washington, its members, who so oftenhad trodden the streets with a proud step, never faltering or holdingback, but with a nerving of the will and a putting aside of self, prepared to do their duty. Conspicuous among them was Mark Ray, who, laughing at his mother's fears, kissed her livid cheek, and then witha pang remembered Helen--dearer even than his mother--wondering how shewould feel, and thinking the path to danger would be so much easier ifhe knew her love was his, that her prayers, her wishes would go withhim, shielding him from harm and bringing him back again to thesunshine of her presence. 

And before he went Mark must know this for certain, chiding himself forhaving put it off so long. True she had been sick and confined to herroom for a long while after Aunt Betsy's memorable visit; and when shewas able to go out, Lent had put a stop to her mingling in festivescenes, so that he had seen but little of her, and had never met heralone. But he would write that very day. She knew, of course, that hewas going, bidding him Godspeed he was sure, for her whole heart waswith the gallant men who had stood so nobly against the enemy, surrendering only because they must. She would say that he did well togo; and she would answer "yes" to the question he would ask her. Markfelt sure of that; but still the letter he wrote was eloquent with hispleadings for her love, while he confessed his own, and asked that shewould be his wife--would give him the right to carry her in hisheart--to think of her as his affianced bride--to know she waited forhis return, and would crown it at last with the full fruition of herpriceless love. 

"I meet a few of my particular friends at Mrs. Grandon's to-night, " headded, in conclusion. "Can I hope to see you there, taking your presenceas a token that I may speak and tell you in words what I have so poorlywritten?"

"She surely will be there, as it is the last, perhaps, she'll ever seeof some of us poor wretches, " Mark said, his hand trembling a little ashe sealed the note, which he would not trust to the post. 

He would deliver it himself, avoiding the possibility of a mistake, hesaid, and half an hour later he rang the bell at No. ----, asking "IfMiss Lennox was at home. "

She was; and handing the girl the note, Mark ran down the steps, whilethe servant carried the missive to the library, where upon the table layother letters received that morning by the penny post, and as yetunopened; for Katy was very busy, and Helen was dressing to go out withJuno Cameron, who had graciously asked her to drive with her thatmorning 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 shecame in with the familiarity of a sister and entered the library towait. Carelessly turning over the books upon the table, she stumbledover Mark's letter, which, through some defect in the envelope, hadbecome unsealed, and lay with its edge lifted so that to peer at itscontents was a very easy matter had she been so disposed. But Juno, though indignant and jealous--for she knew the handwriting--could not atfirst bring herself even to touch what was intended for her rival. Butas 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 dearHelen, " while a storm of pain and passion swept over her, mingled witha feeling of shame that she had let herself down so far. 

"It does not matter now, " the tempter whispered. "You may as well readit and know the worst. Nobody will suspect it, " and so, led on step bystep, she was about to take the folded letter from the envelope, intending fully to replace it after it was read, when a rapid stepwarned her some one was coming, and hastily thrusting the letter in herpocket, she dropped her veil to cover her confusion, and then confrontedHelen Lennox, ready for the drive, and all unconscious of the wrongwhich could not then be righted. 

Juno was unusually kind and familiar that morning, delicatelycomplimenting Helen's taste with regard to pictures, and trying invarious ways to forget the letter which lay upon her conscience likea leaden weight, driving all other thoughts from her mind, and leavingonly the torturing one, "How can I return it without detection?" Junodid not mean to keep the letter, and all that morning she was devisingmeasures for making restitution, even thinking once to confess thewhole, but shrinking from that as more than she could do. As they weredriving home they met Mark Ray; but Helen, who chanced to be looking inan opposite direction, did not see the earnest look of scrutiny he gaveher, scarcely heeding Juno, whose face was all ablaze with guilt as shereturned his bow, and whose voice trembled as she spoke of him to Helenand his intended departure. Helen observed the tremor in her voice, andpitied the girl whose agitation she fancied arose from the fact that herlover was so soon to go where danger and possibly death were waiting. In Helen's heart, too, there was a cutting pang whenever she rememberedMark, and what had so recently passed between them, raising hopes whichnow were wholly blasted. For he was Juno's, she believed, and the griefat his projected departure was the cause of that young lady's softenedand even humbled demeanor, as she insisted on Helen's stopping at herhouse for lunch before going home. 

To this Helen consented--Juno still revolving in her mind how to returnthe letter, which grew more and more a horror to her. It was in herpocket yet, she knew, for she had felt it there when, after lunch, shewent to her room for a fresh handkerchief. She would accompany Helenhome, would manage to slip into the library alone, and put it partlyunder a book, so that it would appear to be hidden, and thus account forit not having been seen before; or better yet, she would catch it upplayfully and banter Helen on her carelessness in leaving her loveletters so exposed. This last seemed a very clever plan, and with herspirits quite elated, Juno drove around with Helen, finding no one inthe parlor below, and felicitating herself upon the fact that Helen lefther alone while she ran up to Katy. 

"Now is my time, " she thought, stealing noiselessly into the library andfeeling for the letter. 

But it was not there. It was missing, gone, and no amount of search, noshaking of handkerchief, or turning of pocket inside out could avail tofind it. The letter was lost, and in the utmost consternation Junoreturned to the parlor, still hunting for the letter, and appearing soabstracted 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 ofthe dreadful war, which she hoped would not be a war after all. Juno wastoo wretched to talk, and after a few moments she started for home, hunting in her own room and through the halls, but failing in hersearch, and finally giving it up, with the consoling reflection thatwere it found in the street, as seemed quite probable, no suspicioncould fasten on her; and as fear of detection, rather than contritionfor the sin, had been the cause of her distress, she grew comparativelycalm, save when her conscience made itself heard and admonishedconfession as the only reparation which was now in her power. But Junocould 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 uponthe 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 asshe saw that her plans had failed, and finally putting the document awaywhere there was less hope of its ever finding its rightful owner than ifit had remained with Juno. Had Mrs. Cameron supposed that Helen hadalready seen it, she would have returned it at once; but of this she hadher doubts, after learning that "Miss Lennox did not go upstairs atall. " Juno, then, must have been the delinquent; and though the mothershrank from the act as unladylike, if nothing more, she resolved to keepthe letter till some inquiry was made for it at least. And so Helen, sitting by her window, and looking dreamily out into the street, with afeeling of sad foreboding as she thought of the dark cloud which hadburst so suddenly upon the nation's horizon, enveloping Mark Ray in itsdark fold, and bearing him away, possibly never to return again, had nosuspicion of the truth, and did not guess how anxiously the young manwas anticipating the interview at Sybil Grandon's, scarcely doubtingthat she would be there, and fancying just the expression of her eyeswhen they first met his. Alas for Mark, also for Helen, that both shouldbe so cruelly deceived. Had the latter known of the loving words sentfrom the true heart which longed for some word of hers to lighten thelong march and beguile the tedious days of absence, she would not havesaid to Katy, when asked if going to Mrs. Grandon's, "Oh, no; pleasedon't urge me. I would so much rather stay at home. "

Katy would not insist and so went alone with Wilford to theentertainment given to a few young men who seemed as heroes then, whenthe full meaning of that word had not been exemplified, as it has beensince in the life so cheerfully laid down and the heart's blood pouredso freely, by the tens of thousands who have won a martyr's and a hero'sname. Curiously, eagerly Mark Ray scanned each new arrival, feeling hislips grow white and his pulses faint when he at last caught sight ofWilford's tall figure, and looked for what might be beside it. But onlyKaty was there. Helen had not come, and with a feeling of chill despairMark listened while Katy explained to Mrs. Grandon that her sister hadfully intended coming in the morning, but had suddenly changed her mindand begged to be excused. 

"I am sorry, " Sybil said, "and so I am sure is Mr. Ray, " turning lightlyto Mark, whose white face froze the gay laugh on her lips and made hertry to shield him from observation until he had time to recover himselfand appear as usual. 

How Mark blessed Sybil Grandon for that kindness, and how wildly theblood throbbed through his veins as he thought "She would not come. Shedoes not care. I have deceived myself in hoping that she did, and nowwelcome war, welcome anything which shall help me to forget. "

Mark was very wretched, and his wretchedness showed itself upon hisface, making more than one rally him for what they termed fear, whilethey tried to reassure him that to the Seventh there could be no dangerafter Baltimore was safely passed. This was more than Mark could bear, and at an early hour he left the house, bidding Katy good-by in thehall, and telling her he probably should not see her again, as he wouldnot have time to call. 

"Not call to say good-by to Helen, " Katy exclaimed. 

"Helen will not care, " was Mark's reply as he hurried away into thedarkness of the night, more welcome in his present state of mind thanthe gay scene he had left. 

And this was all Katy had to carry to Helen, who beat the window panenervously, fighting back the tears wrung out by her disappointment, forshe had expected to see Mark once more, to bless him as a sister mightbless a brother, speaking to him words of cheer and bidding him go on towhere duty led. But he was not coming and she only saw him from thecarriage window, as with proud step and head erect he passed with hisregiment through the densely crowded streets, where the wailing criesand the loud hurrahs of the multitude, which no man could number, rentthe air and told how terribly in earnest the great city was, and howits heart was with that gallant band, their pet, their pride, sent forthon a mission such as it had never had before. But Mark did not seeHelen, and only his mother's white face as it looked when it said "Godbless my boy" was clear before his eyes as he moved on through Broadwayand down Cortlandt Street, until the ferryboat received him, and thecrowd began to disperse. 

There was more than one pillow wet with tears that night as mothers, wives and sisters wept for the loved ones gone, but nowhere were sadder, bitterer tears shed than in the silent chamber where Helen Lennox prayedthat God would guard that regiment and bring it back again as full oflife and vigor as it had gone away. For them all she prayed, in ageneral kind of way, but there was one whose image was in her heart, whose name was ever on her lip, breaking the silence of the room, whichechoed the name of Mark, who, could he have heard that prayer, wouldhave cast aside the heavy pain, so hard to bear during those first dayswhen his cruel disappointment was fresh and the soldier duty new. 

Now that Mark was gone, Mrs. Banker turned intuitively to Helen, findinggreater comfort in her quiet sympathy than in the more wordy condolenceoffered by Juno, who as she heard nothing from the letter, began to loseher fears of detection and even suffer her friends to rally her upon theabsence of Mark Ray and the anxiety she must feel on his account. Moments there were, however, when thoughts of the stolen letter broughta pang, while Helen's face was a continual reproach, and she was gladwhen toward 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 XXXI. 

KATY GOES TO SILVERTON. 

A summer day in Silverton--a soft, bright August day, when the earlyrareripes by the well were turning their red cheeks to the sun, and theflowers in the garden were lifting their heads proudly and nodding toeach other as if they knew the secret which made that day so brightabove all others. Old Whitey, by the hitching post, was munching at hisoats and glancing occasionally at the covered buggy standing on thegreensward, fresh and clean as water from the pond could make it; theharness, new, not mended, lying upon a rock, where Katy used to feed thesheep with salt, and the whip standing upright in its socket, allwaiting for the deacon, donning his best suit of clothes, even to astiff shirt collar which almost cut his ears, his face shining withanticipations which he knew would be realized. Katy was really cominghome, and in proof thereof there were behind the house and barn piles ofrubbish, lath and plaster, moldy paper and broken bricks, the tokens andremains of the repairing process, which for so long a time had made thefarmhouse a scene of dire confusion, driving its inmates nearlydistracted, except when they remembered for whose sake they endured somuch, inhaling clouds of lime, stepping over heaps of mortar, tearingtheir dress skirts on sundry nails projecting from every conceivablequarter, and wondering the while if the masons ever would finish or thecarpenters be gone. 

As a condition on which Katy might be permitted to come home, Wilfordhad stipulated an improvement in the interior arrangement of the house, offering to bear the expense even to the furnishing of the rooms. Tothis the family demurred at first, not liking Wilford's dictatorialmanner, nor his insinuation that their home was not good enough forhis wife, Mrs. Katy Cameron. But Helen turned the tide, appreciatingWilford's feelings better than the others could do, and urging acompliance with his request. 

"Anything to get Katy home, " she said, and so the chimney was torn away, a window was put here and an addition made there, until the house wasreally improved with its pleasant, modern parlor and the large airybedroom, with bathing-room attached, the whole the idea of Wilford, whograciously deigned to come out once or twice from New London, where hewas spending a few weeks, to superintend the work and suggest how itshould be done. 

The furniture, too, which he sent on from New York, was perfect in itskind, not elegant like Katy's, but well adapted to the rooms it was toadorn, and suitable in every respect. Helen enjoyed the settling verymuch, and when it was finished it was hard telling which was the morepleased, she or good Aunt Betsy, who, having confessed in a general kindof way at a sewing society that she did go to a playhouse, and was notso very sorry either, except as the example might do harm, had nothingon her conscience now, nothing to fear from New York, and wasproportionately happy. At least she would have been if Morris had notseemed so off, as she expressed it, and evincing no pleasure at Katy'sexpected visit. He had been polite to Wilford, had kept him at Linwood, taking him to and from the depot, but even Wilford had thought himchanged, telling Katy how very sober and grave he had become, rarelysmiling, and not seeming to care to talk unless it were about hisprofession or on some religious topic. And Morris was greatly changed. The wound which in most hearts would have healed by this time had growndeeper with each succeeding year, while from all he heard he felt surethat Katy's marriage was a sad mistake, wishing sometimes that he hadspoken, and so perhaps have saved her from the life in which she couldnot be wholly free. "She would be happier with me, " he had said, with asad smile to Helen, when once she told him of some things which she hadnot mentioned elsewhere, and there were great tears in Morris' eyes, tears of which he was not ashamed when Helen spoke of Katy's distress, and the look which crept into her face when baby was taken away. WhenMorris first heard of the baby he had hoped he might love Katy less;that she would seem to him as more a wife and less a girl, but she didnot, and there were times when the silent doctor, living alone atLinwood, felt that his grief was too great to bear. But the deep, darkwaters were always forded safely, and Morris' faith in God prevailed, sothat only a dull, heavy pain remained, with the consciousness that itwas no sin to remember Katy as she was remembered now. Oh, how he hadlonged to see her, and yet how he had dreaded it, lest poor weak humanflesh should prove inadequate to the sight. But she was coming home;Providence had ordered that and he accepted it, looking eagerly for thetime when he should see her again, but repressing his eagerness, so thatnot 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 alittle cottage and luxuriating in the joy of having her child with heralmost every day. Country air and country nursing had wrought wonders inthe baby, which had grown so beautiful and bright that it was no longerin Wilford's way save as it took too much of Katy's time, and made hercareless for the gay crowd at the hotel. 

Marian was working at her trade, and never came to the hotel except oneday when Wilford was in New York, but that day sufficed for Katy to knowthat after herself it was Marian whom baby loved the best--Marian, whocared for it even more than Mrs. Hubbell. And Katy was glad to have itso, especially after Wilford and his mother decided that she must leavethe 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 inclinedto 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 farmhouse Katy wrote thatbaby was not coming. 

They were bitterly disappointed, for Katy's baby had been anticipatedquite as much as Katy herself, Aunt Betsy bringing from the woodshedchamber a cradle which nearly forty years before had rocked the deacon'sonly child, the little boy, who died just as he had learned to lisp hismother's name. As a momento of those days the cradle had been kept, Katyusing it sometimes for her kittens and her dolls, until she grew too oldfor that, when it was put away beneath the eaves whence Aunt Betsydragged 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 itback, thinking "things had come to a pretty pass when a woman who coulddance and carouse till twelve o'clock at night was too weakly to takecare of her child, " and feeling a very little awe of Katy who must havegrown 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 Whitey waseating his oats, and the carriage stood on the greensward. The sky aboveand the earth beneath were much as they were that other day when theywere expecting Katy, but Helen's face was not as bright, or her steps asbuoyant. She could not forget who was there one year ago, and all themorning painful memories had been tugging at her heart as she rememberedthe past, and wondered at the gloomy silence which Mark Ray hadmaintained toward her ever since the day when the Seventh Regiment leftNew York, followed by so many prayers and tears. He had returned, sheknew, but neither from his mother nor himself had there ever come a wordor message for her, while Bell Cameron, who wrote to her occasionally, had spoken of his attentions to Juno as becoming more pointed than ever. 

"I have strong hopes that in time Juno will be quite a woman, " Belladded. "She is not so proud and sarcastic as she used to be, and all thewhile Mark was gone she seemed very much depressed, so that I began tobelieve she really liked him. You would hardly recognize her in her newphase, she acts so humble like, as if she were constantly askingforgiveness; and this, you know, is something novel for her. "

After this letter Helen sat herself resolutely at work to forget allthat had ever passed between herself and Mark, succeeding so well thatSilverton and its duties ceased to be very irksome, until theanniversary of the morning when he had twined the lily in her hair, andlooked such fancies in her heart. It was well for her that too manythings were claiming her attention to allow of solitary regrets. 

Katy's room was to be arranged, Katy's "box bed, " as Aunt Betsy calledit, to be fixed, flowers to be gathered for the parlor and vegetablesfor the dinner, so that her hands were full, up to the moment when UncleEphraim drove away from the door, setting old Whitey into a canter, which, by the time the "race" was reached, had become a rapid trot, theold 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 came rollingacross the meadow, and while his head was turned toward the car where hefancied she might be, a pair of arms were thrown impetuously around hisneck, and a little figure, standing on tiptoe, almost pulled him down inits 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 kisseswhich pressed upon his lips, kisses which only came to an end when avoice said, rather reprovingly: "There, Katy, that will do. You havealmost strangled him. "

Wilford had not been expected, and the expression of the deacon's facewas not a very cordial greeting to the young man who hastened to explainthat he should only stop till the next train, and then go on to Boston. In his presence the deacon was not quite natural, but he lifted in hisarms his "little Katy-did, " looking straight into her face, where therewere as yet no real lines of care, only shadows, which told that in somerespects 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 thedeacon felt a little overawed at first; but this wore off as on theirway to the farmhouse, she, sitting partly in his lap and partly in herhusband's, kept one hand upon his neck, her snowy fingers occasionallyplaying with his silvery hair, while she looked at him with her lovingold smile, and asked questions about the people he supposed she hadforgotten, 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 gushof happy tears upon his neck, not Wilford's. That gentleman was watchingher in silence, wishing she were less impulsive, and wondering at thestrong home-love he could not understand. To him there was nothingpleasant in that low, humble farmhouse, or in the rocks and hills whichovershadowed it; while, with the exception of Helen, the women gatheredat the door as they came up were very distasteful to him. But with Katyit was different. They were her rocks, her hills, her woods, and morethan all, they were her folks into whose arms she threw herself with animpetuous rush, scarcely waiting for old Whitey to stop, but with oneleap clearing the wheel and springing first to the embrace of hermother. It was a joyful meeting, and when the first excitement was overKaty inspected the improvements, approving all, and thanking Wilford forhaving done so much for her comfort. 

"I shall sleep so nicely here, " she said, tossing her hat into Helen'slap, and lying down at once upon the bed it had taken so long to make. "Yes, I shall rest so nicely, knowing I can wear my wrapper all daylong. Don't look so horrified, Wilford, " she added, as she caught hiseye. "I shall dress me sometimes; but you don't know what a luxury itis to feel that I need not unless I like. "

"Didn't you rest at New London?" Helen asked, when Wilford had left theroom. 

"Yes, some, " Katy replied; "but there were dances every night, or sailsupon the bay, and I had to go, for many of our friends were there, andWilford was not willing for me to be quiet. "

This, then, was the reason why Katy came home so weary and pale, andcraving so much the rest she had not had in more than two years. But shewould get it now, and before the first dinner was eaten some of her oldcolor came stealing back to her cheeks, and her eyes began to dance justas they used to do, while her merry voice rang out in silvery peals atAunt Betsy's quaint remarks, which struck her so forcibly from nothaving heard them for so long a tune. A hit of a lecture Wilford deemedit his duty to give her when after dinner they sat together alone forhalf an hour. "She must restrain herself. Surely she was old enoughto be more womanly, and she would tire herself out with her nervousrestlessness, besides giving the people a bad opinion of Mrs. WilfordCameron. "

To this Katy listened quietly, breathing freer when it was over, andbreathing freer still when Wilford was gone, even though her tears didfall as she watched him out of sight, and knew it would be at least fourweeks before she saw him again. To the entire family his departurebrought relief; but they were not prepared for the change it produced inKaty; who, freed from all restraint, came back so soon to what she waswhen a young, careless girl she sat upon the doorsteps and curled thedandelion 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 bythe door, and then bound it as a crown about the head of her mother, whocould not yet quite recognize her Katy in the elegant Mrs. WilfordCameron, with rustling silk, and diamonds flashing on her hands everytime they moved. But when she saw her racing with the old brown goat andits little kid out in the apple orchard, her head uncovered, and herbright curls blowing about her face, the feeling disappeared, and shefelt that Katy had indeed come back again. 

And where all the while was Morris? Were his patients so numerous thathe could not find time to call upon his cousin? Katy had inquired forhim immediately after her arrival, but in her excitement she hadforgotten him again, until Wilford was gone and tea was over, when, justas she had done on the day of her return from Canandaigua, she took herhat and started on the well-worn path toward Linwood. She was not goingthere, she said, she only wanted to try the road and see if it hadchanged since she used to go that way to gather butternuts in the autumnor berries in the summer. Airily she tripped along, her light plaid silkgleaming through the deep green of the trees and revealing her coming tothe tired man sitting upon a little rustic seat, beneath a chestnuttree, where he once had sat with Katy, and extracted a cruel sliver fromher hand, kissing the place to make it well as she told him to. She wasa child then, a little girl of twelve, and he was twenty, but the sightof her pure face lifted confidingly to his had stirred his heart as noother face had stirred it since, making him look forward to a time whenthe hand he kissed would be his own, and his the fairy form he watchedso carefully as it expanded day by day into the perfect woman. He wasthinking of that time now, and how different it had all turned out, whenhe heard the bounding step and saw her coming toward him, swinging herhat in childish abandon, and warbling a song she had learned from him. 

"Morris, oh, Morris!" she cried, as she ran eagerly forward; "I am soglad to see you. It seems so nice to be with you once more here in thedear old woods. Don't get up--please don't get up, " she continued, as hestarted to rise. 

She was standing before him, a hand on either side of his face, intowhich she was looking quite as wistfully as he was regarding her. Something she missed in his manner, something which troubled her; andthinking 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 to the bench besidehim, he kissed her twice, but so gravely, so quietly, that Katy was notsatisfied at all, and tears gathered in her eyes as she tried to thinkwhat it was ailed Morris. 

He was very thin, and there were a few white hairs about his temples, sothat, though four years younger than her husband, he seemed to her mucholder, quite grandfatherly in fact, and this accounted for the libertiesshe took, asking what was the matter, and trying to make him like heragain, by assuring him that she was not as vain and foolish as he mustsuppose from what Helen had probably told him of her life since leavingSilverton. 

"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 werejust like you, and lived at Linwood instead of New York. I should be sohappy here with baby all the time. "

It was well she spoke that name, for Morris, listening to her as shecharged him with indifference, could not have borne much more; but themention of her child had a strange power over him, of quieting him atonce, so that he could calmly tell her that she was the same to him thatshe had always been, while with his next breath he asked: "Where is yourbaby, 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 olderthan the hills, she nestled her curly head against his shoulder, whileshe told him of her bright-eyed darling, and as she talked themother-love which spread itself over her girlish face made it morebeautiful than anything Morris had ever seen. 

"Surely an angel's countenance cannot be fairer, purer than hers, " hethought, listening while she talked of the only thing which had a powerto separate her from him, making her seem as a friend, or at most as abeloved sister. 

A long time they talked together, and the sun was setting ere Morrisrose, suggesting that she go home, as the night dew would soon befalling. 

"And you are not as strong as you once were, " he added, pulling hershawl around her shoulders with careful solicitude, and thinking howslender she had become. 

From the back parlor Helen saw them coming up the path, detecting thechanged expression of Morris' face, and feeling a pang of fear when ashe left them after nine o'clock she heard her mother say that he had notappeared so natural since Katy went away as he had done that night. Knowing what she did, Helen trembled for Morris, with this terribletemptation before him, and Morris trembled for himself as he went backthe lonely path, and stopped again beneath the chestnut tree where hehad so lately sat with Katy. There was a great fear at his heart, and itfound utterance in words as kneeling by the rustic bench with only thelonely night around him and the green boughs overhead, he asked that hemight be kept from sin, both in thought and deed, and be to Katy Cameronjust what she took him for, her friend and elder brother. And God, whoknew the sincerity of the heart thus pleading before him, heard andanswered the prayer, so that after that first night of trial Morriscould look on Katy without a wish that she were otherwise than WilfordCameron's wife and the mother of his child. He was happier because ofher being at the farmhouse, though he did not go there one-half as oftenas she came to him. She seemed to prefer Linwood to the farmhouse, staying there hours, both when he was at home and when he was away, strolling through his garden, or sitting quietly in the pleasantsummer-house which looked out upon the pond. 

Those September days were happy ones to Katy, who, freed from allrestraint, became a child again--a petted, spoiled child, whom every onecaressed and suffered to have her way. To Uncle Ephraim it was as ifsome bright angel had suddenly dropped into his path, flooding it withsunshine, and making him so glad to have back his "Katy-did, " who wentwith him to the fields, waiting patiently till his work was done, andtelling him of all the wondrous things she saw abroad, but speakinglittle of her city life. That was something she did not care to talkabout, and but for Wilford's letters, and the frequent mention of baby, the deacon could easily have imagined that Katy had never left him. Butthese were barriers between the old life and the present, these were theinsignia of Mrs. Wilford Cameron, who was watched and envied by thecurious Silvertonians, and pronounced charming by them all. Still therewas one drawback to Katy's happiness. She missed her child, mourning forit 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. To this plan Katy listened more willinglyfrom the fact that Wilford had gone West, and the greater the distancebetween them the more she dared to do. And so Marian Hazelton was oneday startled at the sudden appearance at the cottage of Katy, who hadcome to take her and baby to Silverton. 

There was no resisting the vehemence of Katy's arguments, and before thenext day's sunsetting, the farmhouse, usually so quiet and orderly, hadbeen turned into one general nursery, where Baby Cameron reignedsupreme, screaming with delight at the tinware which Aunt Betsy broughtout from the cake cutter to the dipper, the little creature beating anoisy tattoo upon the latter with an iron spoon, and then for diversionburying its fat dimpled hands in Uncle Ephraim's long white hair, forthe 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 laughreached him, even across the orchard, and leaning for a moment againstthe wall, while he tried to prepare himself for the shock it would be tosee Katy's child, and hold it in his arms, as he knew he must, or themother be aggrieved. 

He had supposed it was pretty, but he was not prepared for the beautifullittle cherub which in its short white dress, with its soft curls ofgolden 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 delightedauditors, watching it with so much interest. 

There was one great, bitter, burning pang, a blur before his eyes, andthen, folding his arms composedly upon the window sill, Dr. Grant stoodlooking in upon the occupants of the room, whistling at last to baby, ashe was accustomed to whistle to the children of his patients. 

"Oh, Morris, " Katy cried, "baby can almost walk, Marian has taken somuch 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 andher eye arrested by something in Morris which fascinated her gaze. Perhaps she thought of Wilford, of whom she had been very fond, for shepushed her chair toward him and then held up her fat, creasy arms forhim to take her. Morris was fond of children and took the infant atonce, strained it to his bosom with a passionate caress, which seemed tohave in it something of the love he bore the mother, who went off intoecstasies of joy when baby, attacking Morris' hair and patting softlyhis cheek, tried to kiss him as it had been taught by Marian. Never wasmother prouder, happier than Katy during the first few days succeedingbaby's arrival, while the family seemed to tread on air, so swiftly thetime went by with that active little life in their midst, stirring themup so constantly, putting to rout all their rules of order and keepingtheir 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 himwhenever he went away, and hailing his arrival with a crow of joy and aneager 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 layquietly in Katy's lap, a blue look about the mouth and a flush upon itscheeks, which neither Morris nor Marian liked. 

More accustomed to children than the other members of the family, theyboth watched it closely, Morris coming over twice one day, and the lasttime he came regarding Katy with a look as if he would fain ward offfrom her some evil-which he feared. 

"What is it, Morris?" she asked. "Is baby going to be very sick?" and agreat crushing fear came upon her as she waited for his answer. 

"I hope not, " he said; "I cannot tell as yet; the symptoms are likecholera infantum, of which I have several cases, but if taken in timeI apprehend no danger. "

There was a low shriek and baby opened its heavy lids and moaned, whileHelen came at once to Katy, holding her hand upon her heart as if thepain had entered there. To Marian it was no news, for ever since theearly morning she had suspected the nature of the disease stealing overthe little child, so suddenly stricken down, and looking by thelamplight so pale and sick. All night the light burned in the farmhouse, where there were anxious, troubled faces, Katy bending constantly overher darling, and even amid her terrible anxiety dreading Wilford'sdispleasure when he should hear what she had done and its possibleresult. She did not believe as yet that her child would die; but shesuffered acutely, watching for the early dawn when Morris had said hewould be there, and when at last he came, begging of him to stay, toleave his other patients and care only for baby. 

"Would that be right?" Morris asked, and Katy blushed for herselfishness when she heard how many were sick and dying around them. "Iwill spend every leisure moment here, " he said, leaving his directionswith Marian and then hurrying away without a word of hope for the child, growing worse so fast that when the night shut down again it lay upon apillow, its blue eyes closed and its head thrown back, while its sadmoanings could only be hushed by carrying it in one's arms about theroom, a task which Katy could not do. 

She had tried it once, refusing all their offers with the reply: "Babyis mine and shall I not carry her?"

But the feeble strength gave out, the limbs began to totter, andstaggering backward she cried: "Somebody must take her. "

It was Marian who went forward, Marian, whose face was a puzzle as shetook the infant in her stronger arms, her stony eyes, which had not weptas yet, fastening themselves upon the face of Wilford Cameron's childwith 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 atthe mother, and her lips moved in earnest prayer that, if possible, Godwould not leave her so desolate. An hour later and Morris came, relieving Marian of her burden which he carried in his own arms, whilehe strove to comfort Katy, who, crouching by the empty crib, was sittingmotionless in a kind of dumb despair, all hope crushed out by his answerto her entreaties that he would tell her the truth, keeping nothingback. 

"I think your baby will die, " he had said to her very gently, pausing amoment in awe of the white face, whose expression terrified and shockedhim, it was so full of agony. 

Bowing her head upon her hands, poor Katy whispered sadly: "God must nottake my baby. Oh, Morris, please pray that he will not. He will hear andanswer you, while I have been so bad I cannot pray. But I'm not going tobe 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 babydie. "

She was praying herself now, and Morris' broad chest heaved as heglanced at her kneeling figure, and then at the death-like face uponthe pillow, with the pinched look about the nose and lips, which to hispracticed eye was a harbinger of death. 

"Its father should be here, " he thought, and when Katy lifted up herhead again he asked if she was sure her husband had not yet returnedfrom Minnesota. 

"Yes, sure--that is, I think he has not, " was Katy's answer, a chillcreeping over her at the thought of meeting Wilford, and giving him hisdaughter 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 thatMorris stopped in front of Katy, trying to reason with her. 

But Katy would not listen, only answering to him 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 Icould save you this pain by giving up my life for baby's, I would do itwillingly; 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 hermind, she sprang to Morris' side and seizing his arm, demanded: "Can anunbaptized child be saved?"

"We nowhere read that baptism is a saving ordinance, " was Morris'answer; while Katy continued: "But do you believe they will be saved?"

"Yes, I do, " was the decided response, which, however, did not easeKaty's mind, and she moaned on: "A child of heathen parents may, but Iknew better, I knew it was my duty to give the child to God, and for afoolish fancy withheld the gift until it is too late, and God will takeit 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 that, there may be time for the baptism yet--that is, to-morrow. Baby will notdie to-night, and if you like, it still shall have a name. "

Eagerly Katy seized upon that idea, thinking more of the sign, thewater, than the name, which scarcely occupied her thoughts at all. Itdid not matter what the child was called, so that it became one of thelittle ones in glory, and with a calmer, quieter demeanor than she hadshown that day she saw Morris depart at a late hour; and then turning tothe child which Uncle Ephraim now was holding, kissed it lovingly, whispering as she did so: "Baby shall be baptized--baby shall have thesign. "

CHAPTER XXXII. 

LITTLE GENEVRA. 

Morris had telegraphed to New York, receiving in reply that Wilford washourly expected home, and would at once hasten on to Silverton. Theclergyman, Mr. Kelly, had also been seen, but owing to a funeral whichwould take him out of town, he could not be at the farmhouse until fivein the afternoon, when, if the child still lived, he would be glad toofficiate as requested. All this Morris had communicated to Katy, wholistened in a kind of stupor, gasping for breath, when she heard thatWilford would so 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 shewould hold till nightfall the life flickering so faintly and seeming sonearly finished. The wailings had ceased, and they no longer carried itwithin their arms, but had placed it in its crib, where it lay perfectlystill, save as its eyes occasionally unclosed and turned wistfullytoward the cups, where it knew was something which quenched its ragingthirst. Once, indeed, as the hours crept on to noon and Katy bent overit so that her curls swept its face, it seemed to know her, and thelittle wasted hand was for a moment uplifted and rested on her cheekwith the same caressing motion it had been wont to use in health. Thenhope whispered that it might live, and with a great cry of joy Katysobbed: "She knows me, Morris--mother, see; she knows me. Maybe she willlive. "

But the dull stupor which succeeded to that act swept all hope away, andagain Katy resumed her post, watching first her dying child, and thenthe long hands of the clock which crept on so slowly, pointing to onlytwo when she thought it must be five. Would that hour never come, orcoming, would it find baby there? None could answer that lastquestion--they could only wait and pray, and as they waited thus thewarm September sun neared the western sky till its yellow beams camestealing through the window and across the floor to where Katy satwatching its onward progress and looking sometimes out upon the hillswhere the purplish autumnal haze was lying just as she once loved to seeit; but she did not heed it now, or care how bright the day with theflitting shadows dancing on the grass, the tall flowers growing by thedoor and old Whitey standing by the gate, his head stretched toward thehouse in a kind of dreamy, listening attitude, as if he, too, knew ofthe great sorrow hastening on so fast. The others saw all this, and itmade their hearts ache more as they thought of the beautiful littlechild, so much fairer than sky or day or flowers could be, going fromtheir midst when they wished so much to keep her. But Katy had only oneidea, and that was of the child growing very restless now and throwingup its arms as if in pain. It is striking five, and with each stroke thedying baby moans, while Katy strains her ear to catch another sound, thesound of horses' hoofs hurrying up the road. The clergyman has come andanon the inmates of the house gather around in silence, while he makesready to receive the child into Christ's flock, where it so soon willreally be. 

Mrs. Lennox had questioned Helen about the name and Helen had answered:"Katy knows, I presume. It does not matter, " but no one had spokendirectly to Katy, who had scarcely given it a thought, caring more forthe rite she had deferred so long. 

"He must hasten, " she said to Morris, her eyes fixed upon the pantingchild she had lifted to her own lap, and thus abjured the clergymanfailed 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 ofKaty's chair, pressing both her hands upon it, and leaning over Katy sothat her eyes too were fixed upon the little face, from which they neverturned but once, and that when the clergyman's voice was heard askingfor a name. There was an instant's silence, and Katy's lips began tomove, when one of Marian's hands was laid upon her head, while the othertook in its own the limp, while baby fingers, and Marian's voice wasvery steady in its tone as it said: "Genevra. "

"Yes, Genevra, " Katy whispered, and then the solemn words were heard:"Genevra, I baptize thee in the name of the Father, the Son, and theHoly Ghost. "

Softly the baptismal waters fell upon the pale forehead, and at theirtouch the little Genevra's eyes unclosed, the waxen fingers withdrewthemselves from Marian's grasp, and again sought the mother's cheek, resting there for an instant; while a smile broke around the baby lips, which tried to say "Mam-ma. " Then the hand fell back, down uponMarian's, the soft eyes closed, the limbs grew rigid, the shadow ofdeath grew deeper, and while the prayer was said, and Marian's tearsfell with Katy's upon the brow where the baptismal waters were notdried, the angel came, and when the prayer was ended, Morris, who knewwhat the rest did not, took the lifeless form from Katy's lap, andwhispered to her gently: "Katy, your baby is dead!"

An hour later, and the sweet little creature, which had been a sunbeamin that house for a few happy days, lay upon the bed where Katy said itmust be laid; its form shrouded in the christening robe which GrandmaCameron had bought, flowers upon its pillow, flowers upon its bosom, flowers in its hands, which Marian had put there; for Marian's was themind which thought of everything concerning the dead child; and Helen, as she watched her, wondered at the mighty love which showed itself inevery lineament of her face, the blue veins swelling in her forehead, her eyes bloodshot, and her lips shut firmly together, as if it were bymere strength of will that she kept back the scalding tears as shedressed the little Genevra. They spoke of that name in the kitchen whenthe first great shock was over, and Helen explained why it had beenKaty's choice. Poor stricken Katy, it was Morris' task to comforther--Morris, who sat by her holding the hot, feverish hand she hadplaced in his, and telling her of the blessed Savior who loved thelittle children while here on earth, and to whom her darling had surelygone. 

"Safe in His arms it would not come back if it could, " he said, "andneither would you have it. "

But Katy was the mother, and human love could not so soon submit, butwent out after the lost one with a piteous agonizing wail, which hurtMorris cruelly. 

"Oh, I want my baby back. I know she is safe, but I want her back. Shewas my life--all I had to love, " Katy moaned, rocking to and fro in thisfirst hour of her bereavement. 

"You forget your husband, " Morris said. "You have him left, andhusbands, I supposed, were dearer than one's children. "

"Yes, " Katy answered, "I have Wilford, and am glad of that; but he willblame me so much for bringing baby here to die. He will say it was myfault; and that I can't bear. I know it was, know I killed my baby; butI did not mean to. I would give my life for hers, if like her I wasready, " and into Katy's face there came a look of fear which Morrisfailed to understand, not knowing Wilford as well as Katy knew him. 

Surely no man could reproach the half-crazed creature, who all thatnight sat by the bedside of her dead child, sleeping a little in herchair, but obtaining no real rest, so that by the morning her face waslike some white rose on which a fierce storm has beaten, breaking offits petals and crushing out its life. At nine o'clock there came to hera telegram. Wilford had reached New York and would be in Silverton thatafternoon, accompanied by Bell. At this last Marian Hazelton caughteagerly as an excuse for what she intended doing. She could not remainthere after Wilford came, nor was it necessary. Her task was done, orwould be when she had finished the wreath and cross of flowers she wasmaking for the coffin. Laying them on baby's pillow, Marian went inquest of Helen, to whom she explained that as Bell Cameron was coming, and the house would be full, she had decided upon going to WestSilverton, especially as she wished to see the lady with whom she onceboarded, and who had been so kind to her. 

"I might stay, " she added, as Helen began to protest, "but you do notneed me. I have done all I can, and would rather go where I can be quietfor a little. "

To this last argument there could be no demur, and so the same carriagewhich at ten o'clock went for Wilford Cameron carried Marian Hazeltonto the village where she preferred being left. 

 * * * * *

In much anxiety and distress Wilford Cameron read the telegramannouncing baby's illness. 

"At Silverton!" he said. "How can that be when the child was at NewLondon?" and he glanced 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 guessedthe truth, censuring Katy much, but censuring her family more. They, ofcourse, had encouraged her in the plan of taking her child from NewLondon, where it was doing so well, and this was the result. Wilford wasproud of his daughter now, and during the few weeks he had been with itthe little thing had found a strong place in his love. Many times he hadthought of it during his journey West, indulging in bright anticipationsof the coming winter, when he would have it home again. It would not bein his way now. On the contrary, it would add much to his luxurioushome, and the young father's heart bounded as Wilford Cameron had neverbelieved his heart could bound, with thoughts of the beautiful baby ashe had last seen it in Katy's arms, crowing its good-by to him andtrying to lisp his name, its sweet voice haunting him for weeks, andmaking him a softer, better man, who did not frown impatiently as heused to do upon the children in the cars, but who took notice of themall, even laying his hand once on a little curly head which reminded himof baby's. 

Alas for him, he little dreamed of the great shock in store for him. Thechild was undoubtedly very sick, he said, but that it could die was notpossible; and so, though he made ready to hasten to it, he did withholdhis opinion of the rashness, as he termed it, which had brought it tosuch peril. 

"Had Katy obeyed me it would not have happened, " he said, pacing up anddown the parlor and preparing to say more, when Bell came to Katy's aid, and lighting furiously upon him, asked what he meant by blaming hiswife so much. 

"For my part, " she said, "I think there has been too much fault-findingand dictation from the very day of the child's birth till now, and ifGod takes it, as he may, I shall think it a judgment upon you. First youwere half vexed with Katy because it was not a boy, as if she were toblame; then you did not like it because it was not more promising andfair; next it was in your way, and so you sent it off, never consideringKaty any more than if she were a mere automaton, to turn which way yousaid. Then you must needs forbid her taking it home to her own family, as if they had no right, no interest in it. I tell you, Will, it is notall Cameron--there is some Barlow blood in its veins--Aunt BetsyBarlow's, too, and you cannot wash it out. Katy had a right to take herown child where she pleased, and you are not a man if you censure herfor it, as I see in your eyes you mean to do. Suppose it had stayed inNew 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, evenhad he been disposed, and he contented himself with a haughty toss ofhis head as she left the room to get herself in readiness for thejourney she insisted upon taking. Wilford was glad she was going, as herpresence at Silverton would relieve him of the awkward embarrassment healways felt when there; and magnanimously forgiving her for theplainness of her speech, he was the most attentive of brothers untilSilverton was reached and he found Dr. Grant waiting for him. Somethingin his face, as he came forward to meet them, startled both Wilford andBell, the latter of whom asked quickly:

"Is the baby better?"

"Baby is dead, " was the brief reply, and Wilford staggered back againstthe doorpost, where he leaned a moment for support in that first greatshock for which he was not prepared. 

"Dead, " he repeated, "our baby dead, " and Morris was glad that he saidour, as it indicated a thought of Katy as a mutual sharer in the loss. 

Upon the doorstep Bell sat down, crying quietly, for she had loved thelittle child, and she listened anxiously while Morris repeated theparticulars of its illness and then spoke of Katy's reproaching herselfso bitterly for having brought it from New London. "She seems entirelycrushed, " he continued, when they were driving toward the farmhouse. "For a few hours I trembled for her reason, while the fear that youmight reproach her added much to the poignancy of her grief. "

Morris said this very calmly, as if it were not what he had all thewhile intended saying, and his eye turned toward Wilford, whose lipswere compressed with the emotion he was evidently trying to control. Itwas Bell who spoke first. Bell who said impulsively; "Poor Katy, I knewshe would feel so, but it is unnecessary, for none but a savage wouldreproach her now, even if she were in fault. "

Morris blessed Bell Cameron in his heart, knowing how much influence herwords would have upon her brother, who brushed away the first tear hehad shed, and tried to say that "of course she was not to blame. "

They were in sight of the farmhouse now, and Bell, with her city ideas, was looking curiously at it, mentally pronouncing it a nicer, pleasanterplace than she had supposed, inasmuch as it reminded her of thedescription she had read of the Virginia farmhouse, where a youngofficer was encamped for a few days, an officer who wore a lieutenant'suniform and who signed himself as Bob. It was very quiet about thehouse, and old Whitey's neigh as Morris' span of bays came up was theonly sound which greeted them. In the woodshed door Uncle Ephraim satsmoking his clay pipe and likening the feathery waves which curled abovehis 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 wasslicing up for tea, sat a woman whom Bell knew at once for Aunt BetsyBarlow, thinking more of the peaches than of the old lady who, pan inhand, came forward to met her, curtseying very low when introduced byMorris, and asking to be excused from shaking hands, inasmuch as herswere 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 blackribbon, put on that day with a view to mourning, and then darted off toUncle Ephraim, who won her heart at once when she heard how his voicetrembled as he took Wilford's hand and said so pityingly, sofather-like: "Young man, this is a sad day for you and you have mysympathy, for I remember well how my heart ached when, on just such aday as this, my only child lay dead as yours is lying. "

Every muscle of Wilford's face quivered then, but he was too proud toshow all that he felt, and he was glad when Helen appeared in the door, as that diverted his mind somewhat, and he greeted her most cordially, even stooping down and kissing her smooth forehead, a thing he had neverdone before. But sorrow is a great softener and Wilford was very sorry, feeling his loss more here where everything was so quiet, so suggestiveof death. 

"Where is Katy?" he asked. 

"She is sleeping for the first time since the baby died. She is in herewith the child. She will stay nowhere else, " Helen said, opening softlythe door of the bedroom and motioning Wilford in. 

With hushed breath and a beating heart, Wilford stepped across thethreshold and Helen closed the door, leaving him alone with the livingand the dead. Pure and beautiful as some fair blossom, the dead childlay upon the bed, the curls of golden hair clustering about its head, and on its lips the smile which had settled there when it tried to say"mamma"--its dimpled hands folded upon its breast, where lay the crossof flowers which Marian Hazelton had made--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 gazingat it and then let his eye move on to where poor, tired, worn-out Katyhad crept up so close beside it that her breath touched the marble cheekand her own disordered hair rested upon the pillow of her child. Even inher sleep her tears kept dropping from the long eyelashes, and the palelips quivered in a grieved, touching way. Hard indeed would Wilford havebeen had he cherished one bitter thought against the wife so wounded. Hecould not when he saw her, but no one ever knew just what passed throughhis mind during the half hour he sat there beside her, scarcelystirring and not daring to kiss his child lest he should awaken her. Hecould hear the ticking of his watch and the beating of his heart as hewaited for the first sound which should herald Katy's waking. 

Suddenly there was a low, gasping moan, and Katy's eyes unclosed andrested on her husband. He was bending over her in an instant, and herarms were around his neck, while she said to him so sadly:

"Our baby is dead--you've nobody left but me; and oh! Wilford, you willnot blame me bringing baby here? I did not think she would die. I'd givemy life for hers if that would bring her back. Say, Wilford, would yourather 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 waswholly forgiven, crying on his neck in a plaintive, piteous way, whileWilford soothed and pitied and caressed, feeling subdued and humbled, and we must confess it, feeling too how very good and generous he was tobe thus forbearing, when but for Katy's act of disobedience they mightnot now be childless!

 * * * * *

With a great gust of tears Bell Cameron bent over the little form, andthen enfolded Katy in a more loving embrace than he had ever given herbefore; but whatever she might have said was prevented by the arrival ofthe coffin and the confusion which followed. 

Much Wilford regretted that New York was so far away, for a city coffinwas more suitable, he thought, for a child of his, than the one whichDr. Grant had ordered. But that was really of less consequence than thequestion where should the child be buried? A costly monument atGreenwood was in accordance with his ideas, but all things indicateda contemplated burial there in the country churchyard, and sorelyperplexed he called on Bell as the only Cameron at hand, to know whathe should do. 

"Do just as Katy prefers, " was Bell's reply, as she led him to thecoffin and pointed to the name: "Little Genevra Cameron, aged ninemonths and twenty days. "

"What is it, Wilford--what is the matter?" she asked, as her brotherturned whiter than his child, and struck his hand upon his head as ifa blow had fallen there. 

Had "Genevra Lambert, aged twenty-two, " met his eye, he could not havebeen more startled than he was; but soon rallying, he said to Morris, who came near:

"The child was baptized then?"

"Yes, baptized Genevra. That was Katy's choice, I understand, " Morrisreplied, and Wilford bowed his head, wishing the Genevra across the seamight know that his child bore her name. 

"Perhaps she does, " he thought, and his heart grew warm with the fancythat possibly in that other world, whose existence he never reallydoubted, the Genevra he had wronged would care for his child, ifchildren 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 foundsobbing by the side of the mourning garments just sent in for herinspection. 

Wilford was averse to black. It would not become Katy, he feared, and itwould be an unanswerable reason for her remaining closely home for theentire winter. 

"What's this?" he asked, lifting the crape veil and dropping it againwith an impatient gesture as Helen replied: "It is Katy's mourningveil. "

Contrary to his expectations, black was becoming to Katy, who lookedlike a pure white lily, as, leaning on Wilford's arm next day, she stoodby the grave where they were burying her child. 

Wilford had spoken to her of Greenwood, but she had begged so hard thathe had given up that idea, suggesting next, as more in accordance withcity custom, that she remain at home while he only followed to thegrave; but from this Katy recoiled in such distress that he gave up too, and bore, magnanimously, as he thought, the sight of all the Barlowsstanding around that grave, alike mourners with himself, and all a rightto be there. Wilford felt his loss deeply, and his heart ached to itsvery core as he heard the gravel rattling down upon the coffin lid whichcovered the beautiful child he had loved so much. But amid it all henever for a moment forgot that he was Wilford Cameron, and infinitelysuperior 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 bytheir sorrow they honored the memory of his child. But for the rest--thevillage herd, with the Barlows in their train--he had no affinity, andhis manner was as haughty and distant as ever as he passed through theirmidst back to the carriage, which took him again to the farmhouse. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

AFTER THE FUNERAL. 

Had there been a train back to New York that afternoon Wilford wouldmost certainly have suggested going, but as there was none he passed thetime as well as he could, finding Bell a great help to him, butwondering that she could assimilate so readily with such people, declaring herself in love with the farmhouse, and saying she should liketo remain there for weeks, if the days were all as sunny as this, thedahlias as gorgeously bright, and the peaches by the well as deliciousand ripe. To these the city girl took readily, visiting them the lastthing before retiring, while Wilford found her there when he arose nextmorning, her dress and slippers nearly spoiled with the heavy dew, andher hands full of the fresh fruit which Aunt Betsy knocked from the treewith a quilting rod; her dress pinned around her waist, and disclosing apetticoat scrupulously clean, but patched and mended with so manydifferent patterns and colors that the original ground was lost, andnone could tell whether it had been red or black, buff or blue. BetweenAunt Betsy and Bell the most amicable feeling had existed ever since theolder lady had told the younger how all the summer long she had beendrying fruit, "thimble-berries, blue-berries and huckleberries" for thesoldiers, and how she was now drying peaches for Willard Buxton--oncetheir hired man. These she should tie up in a salt bag, and put in thenext 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 himthe whole of Bell Cameron's heart; and who for a few days had tarried atjust such a dwelling as the farmhouse, writing back to her such pleasantdescriptions of it, with its fresh grass and shadowy trees, that she hadlonged to be there too. So it was through this page of romance and lovethat Bell looked at the farmhouse and its occupants, preferring goodAunt Betsy because she seemed the most interested in the soldiers, working as soon as breakfast was over upon the peaches, and kindlyfurnishing her best check apron, together with pan and knife for Bell, who offered her assistance, notwithstanding Wilford's warning that thefruit would stain her hands, and his advice that she had better beputting up her things for going home. 

"She was not going that day, " she said, point-blank, and as Katy toohad asked to stay a little longer, Wilford was compelled to yield, andtaking his hat sauntered off toward Linwood; while Katy went listlesslyinto the kitchen, where Bell Cameron sat, her tongue moving much fasterthan her hands, which pared so slowly and cut away so much of the juicypulp, besides making so frequent journeys to her mouth, that Aunt Betsylooked in alarm at the rapidly disappearing fruit, wishing to herselfthat "Miss Cameron had not listed. "

But Miss Cameron had enlisted, and so had Bob, or rather he had gone todo his duty, and as she worked, she repeated to Helen the particulars ofhis going, telling how, when the war first broke out, and Sumter wasbombarded, Rob, who, from long association with Southern men at WestPoint, had imbibed many of their ideas, was very sympathetic with therebelling States, gaining the cognomen of a secessionist, and onceactually thinking of casting in his lot with that side rather than theother. But the remembrance of a little incident saved him, she said. Theremembrance of a queer old lady whom he met in the cars, and who, atparting, held her wrinkled hand above his head in benediction, charginghim not to go against the flag, and promising her prayers for his safetyif 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 ofLieutenant Bob's meeting with Aunt Betsy, who, as the story progressedand she recognized herself in the queer old Yankee woman, who shookhands with the conductor and was going to law about a sheep pasture, dropped her head lower and lower over her pan of peaches, while ascarlet flush spread itself all over her thin face, but changed into agrayish white as Bell concluded with "Bob says the memory of that handlifted above his head haunted him day and night, during the period ofhis uncertainty, and was at last the means of saving him from treacheryto his country. "

"Thank God!" came involuntarily from Aunt Betsy's quivering lips, and, looking up, Bell saw the great tears running down her cheeks, tearswhich she wiped away with her arm, while she said faintly: "That oldwoman, who made a fool of herself in the cars, was me!"

"You, Miss Barlow, you!" Bell exclaimed, forgetting in her astonishmentto carry to her mouth the luscious half peach she had intended for thatpurpose, and dropping it untasted into the pan, while Katy, who had beenlistening with some considerable interest, came quickly forward, saying:"You, Aunt Betsy! When were you in New York, and why did I never knowit?"

It could not be kept back, and, unmindful of Bell, Helen explained toKaty as well as she could the circumstances of Aunt Betsy's visit to NewYork 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 isso abominably proud, and would have made such a fuss. Don't spoil astory for relations' sake, I beg, " and the young lady laughed goodhumoredly, restoring peace to all save Katy, whose face wore a troubledlook, and who soon stole away to her mother, whom she questioned furtherwith regard to a circumstance which seemed so mysterious to her. 

"Miss Barlow, " Bell said, when Katy was gone, "you will forgive one forrepeating that story as I did. Of course I had no idea it was you ofwhom 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 thetruth. I did make an old fool of myself, but if I helped that boy to aright decision, my journey did some good, and I ain't sorry now if Idid go to the playhouse. I confessed that to the sewing circle, and Mrs. Deacon Bannister ain't seemed the same toward me since, but I don'tcare. I beat her on the election to first directress of the Soldiers'Aid. She didn't run half as well as me. That chap you call Bob, is heanything to you? Is he your beau?"

It was Bell's turn now to blush and then grow white, while Helenlightly touching the superb diamond on her first finger, said: "Thatindicates as much. When did it happen, Bell?"

Mrs. Cameron had said they were not a family to bruit their affairsabroad, and if so, Bell was not like her family, for she answeredfrankly: "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 itfrom the trees, Bell and Helen were left alone, the former continuing ina low, sad tone: "I've been so sorry sometimes that I did not tell Bob Iloved him, when he wished me to so much. "

"Not tell him you loved him! How then could you tell him yes, as itappears you did?" Helen asked, and Bell answered: "I could not well helpthat; it came so sudden and he begged so hard, saying my promise wouldmake him a better man, a better soldier and all that. It was the verynight before he went, and so I said that out of pity and patriotism Iwould give the promise, and I did, but it seemed too much for a woman totell a man all at once that she loved him, and I wouldn't do it, butI've been sorry since; oh, so sorry, during the two days when we heardnothing from him after that dreadful battle at Bull Run. We knew he wasin it, and I thought I should die until his telegram came saying he wassafe. I did sit down then and commence a letter, confessing all I felt, 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 withthe juice of the fruit she had been paring, and said: "Do you suppose Iwould 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 that Ihave confessed so much, allow me to catechise you. Did Mark Ray everpropose and you refuse him?"

"Never!" and Helen's face grew crimson, while Bell continued: "That isfunny. Half our circle think so, though how the impression was firstgiven I do not know. Mother told me, but would not tell where shereceived her information. I heard of it again in a few days, and havereason to believe that Mrs. Banker knows it too and feels a littleuncomfortable that her son should be refused when she considers himworthy of the empress herself. "

Helen was very white, and her limbs shook as she asked: "And how withMark and Juno?"

"Oh, off and on, " Bell replied; "that is, Juno is always on, while Markis more uncertain, and Juno really has improved in some respects. As Iwrote you once, she is very docile when with Mark, and acts as if tryingto atone for something--her old badness, I guess. You are certain younever cared for Mark Ray?"

This was so abrupt and Bell's eyes were so searching that Helen grewgiddy for a moment and grasped the back of the chair, as she replied: "Idid not say I never cared for him. I said he never proposed; and that istrue; 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 questionher so closely. Now, however, she answered blindly: "I do not know. Icannot tell. I thought him engaged to Juno. "

"Well, if that is not the rarest case of cross-purposes that I everknew, " Bell said, wiping her hands upon Aunt Betsy's apron, andpreparing to attack the piled up basket just brought in. 

Further conversation was impossible, and, with her mind in a perfecttempest of thought, Helen went away, trying to decide what it was bestfor her to do. Some one had spread the report that she had refused MarkRay, telling of the refusal, of course, or how else could it have beenknown? and this accounted for Mrs. Banker's long-continued silence. Since Helen's return to Silverton Mrs. Banker had written two or theekind, friendly letters, which did her so much good; but these hadsuddenly ceased, and Helen's last remained as yet unanswered. She sawthe reason now, every nerve quivering with pain as she imagined whatMrs. Banker must think of one who could make a refusal public, or whatwas tenfold worse, pretend to an offer she never received. "She mustdespise 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 thenchanging her mind and concluding to let matters take their course, inasmuch as interference from her might be construed by the mother intoundue interest in the son. "Perhaps Bell will do it without my asking, "she thought, and this hope did much toward keeping her spirits up onthat last day of Katy's stay at home, for she was going back in themorning. Wilford would not leave her, though she begged to stay. He didnot like the sad expression of her face, and he must take her where shewould have more excitement, hoping thus to win her from her grief, andperhaps induce her to lay aside her black, which would be so serious ahindrance to his enjoyment. But Katy clung to that as to a strict, religious duty, saying to Helen, as in the twilight they sat togetherup in their old room, talking of the ensuing winter, which would be sodifferent from the last:

"If anything besides the feeling that she is so much happier, couldreconcile me to baby's loss, it is the knowing that my mourning willkeep me from the society in which I could not mingle so soon, " and hertears dropped upon the somber robes, which had transformed her sosuddenly from the gay, airy creature of fashion into the sober, quietwoman who seemed older, soberer than even Helen herself. 

They did not see Marian Hazelton again, and Katy wondered at it, deciding that in some things Marian was very peculiar, while Wilford andBell were slightly disappointed, as both had a desire to meet andconverse with one who had been so like a second mother to the littledead Genevra. Wilford spoke of his child now as Genevra, but to Katy itwas baby still; and, with choking sobs and passionate tears, she badegood-by to the little mound underneath which it was lying, and then wentback to her city home. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

THE FIRST WIFE. 

Softly and swiftly the hazy September days glided into dun October, whoshook down leafy showers of crimson and of gold upon the withered grass, and then gave place to the dark November rains, which made the city seemdoubly desolate to Katy, who, like the ghost of her former self, movedlistlessly about her handsome home, starting quickly as a fancied babycry fell on her ear, and then weeping bitterly as she remembered the sadpast and thought of the still sadder present. Katy was very unhappy, andthe world, as she looked upon it, seemed utterly cheerless. For much ofthis unhappiness Wilford was himself to blame. After the first few days, during which he was all kindness and devotion, he did not try to comforther, but seemed irritated that she should mourn so deeply for the childwhich, but for her indiscretion, might have been living still. Herseclusion from gay society troubled him. He did not like staying athome, and their evenings, when they were alone, passed in gloomysilence. At last Mrs. Cameron, annoyed at what annoyed her son, broughther influence to bear upon her daughter-in-law, trying to rouse her tosomething like her olden interest in the world; but all to no effect, and matters grew constantly worse, as Wilford thought Katy unreasonableand selfish, while Katy tried hard not to think him harsh in hisjudgment of her, and exacting in his requirements. "Perhaps she wasthe one most in fault; it could not be pleasant for him to see her soentirely changed from what she used to be, " she thought, one morninglate in November, when her husband had just left her with an angry frownupon his face and reproachful words upon his lips. 

Father Cameron and his daughters were out of town, and Mrs. Cameron, feeling lonely in their absence, had asked Wilford and Katy to dine withher. But Katy did not wish to go, and so 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 theinvitation. Surely she could go there, and the echo of the bang withwhich Wilford had closed the street door was still vibrating in her ear, when her resolution began to give way, and while Wilford was ridingmoodily downtown, thinking harsh things against her, she was meditatingwhat she thought might be an agreeable surprise. She would go around andmeet him at dinner, trying to appear as much like her old self as shecould, and so atone for anything which had hitherto been wrong in herdemeanor. 

It was strange how much better Katy felt when this decision was reached, and Esther, below stairs, raised her finger warningly for the cook tolisten as her mistress trilled a few notes of a song. It was the firsttime since her return from Silverton that a sound like that had beenheard within the house, and it seemed the precursor of better days. Atlunch, too, Katy's face was very bright, and Esther was surprised when, later in the day, she was sent for to arrange her mistress' hair, as shehad not arranged it since baby died. Greatly annoyed, Wilford had beenby the smooth bands combed so plainly back, and at the blackness of thedress; but now there was a change, and graceful curls fell about theface, giving it the girlish expression which Wilford liked. Thesomberness of the dark dress was relieved by simple folds of white crapeat the throat and wrists, while the handsome jet ornaments, the gift ofWilford's father, added to the style and beauty of the childish figure, which had seldom looked lovelier than when ready and waiting for thecarriage. At the door there was a ring, and Esther brought a note toKaty, who, recognizing her husband's handwriting, tore it quickly openand 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 onthe night train, I wish Esther to have my portmanteau ready with whateverI may need for the journey. As I proposed this morning, I shall dine withmother, but come home immediately after dinner. W. CAMERON. "

Katy was glad now that she had decided to meet him at his mother's, asthe knowing she had pleased him would make the time of his absence moreendurable, and after seeing that everything was ready for him shestepped with a comparatively light heart into her carriage, and wasdriven to No. ---- Fifth Avenue. 

Mrs. Cameron was out, the servant said, but was expected every minutewith Mr. Wilford. 

"Never mind, " Katy answered; "I want to surprise them, so please don'ttell them I am here when you let them in, " and going into the libraryshe sat down before the grate, waiting rather impatiently until the doorbell rang and she heard both Wilford's and Mrs. Cameron's voice in thehall. 

Contrary to her expectations, they did not come into the library, butwent instead into the parlor, the door of which was partially ajar, sothat every word they said could be distinctly heard where Katy sat. Itwould seem that they were continuing a conversation which had beeninterrupted by their arriving home, for Mrs. Cameron said, with the toneshe always assumed when sympathizing with her son: "I am truly sorry foryou. Is she never more cheerful than when I have seen her?"

"Never, " and Katy could feel just how Wilford's lips shut over histeeth 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 theoffice and go back to it at night, knowing how mopish and gloomy Katywill be. "

"My poor boy, it is worse than I feared, " Mrs. Cameron said, with alittle sigh, while Katy, with a great gasping sob, tried to rise and goto them, to tell them she was there--the mopish Katy, who made her homeso 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 should ever say to amother of his wife, especially when that wife's error consistedprincipally in mourning too much for the child "which but for herimprudence might have been living then. " These were Wilford's verywords, and though Katy had once expected him to say them, they came uponher now with a dreadful shock, making her view herself as the murdererof her child, and thus blunting the pain she might otherwise have feltas he went on to speak of Silverton and its inhabitants, just as hewould not have spoken had he known she was so near. Then, encouraged byhis mother, he talked again of her, not against her, but in a way whichmade her poor aching heart throb as she whispered, sadly: "He isdisappointed in me. I do not come up to all that he expected. I do verywell, 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 nervequivered with anguish as the wild wish came over her that she had diedon that day when she sat in the summer grass at home watching theshadows come and go and waiting for Wilford Cameron. Poor Katy! shethought her cup of sorrow full, when, alas! only a drop had as yet beenpoured into it. But it was filling fast, and Mrs. Cameron's words: "Itmight have been better with Genevra, " was the first outpouring of theoverwhelming torrent which for a moment bore her life and sense away. She thought they meant her baby--the little Genevra sleeping under thesnow in Silverton--and her white lips answered: "Yes, it would bebetter, " before Wilford's voice was heard, saying, as he always said:"No, I have never wished Genevra in Katy's place, though I havesometimes wondered what the result would have been had I learnedin season how much I wronged her. "

Was heaven and earth coming together, or what made Katy's brain so dizzyand the room so dark, as, with head bent forward and lips apart, shestrained 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, andfrom which she had promised not to shrink should it ever be thrust uponher? But she did shrink, oh! so shudderingly, holding up her hands andstriking them through the empty air as if she would thrust aside theterrible scepter risen so suddenly before her. She had heard all thatshe cared to hear then. Another word and she should surely die where shewas, within hearing of the voices still talking of Genevra. Stopping herears to shut out the dreadful sound, she tried to think what she shoulddo. To gain the door and reach the street was her desire, and throwingon her wrappings she went noiselessly into the hall, and carefullyturning the lock closed the door behind her, finding herself alone inthe street in the dusk of a November night. But Katy was not afraid, anddrawing her hood closely over her face she sped on until her own housewas reached, alarming Esther with her frightened face, but explainingthat she had been taken suddenly ill and returned before dinner. 

"Mr. Cameron will be here soon, " she said. "I do not need anythingto-night, so you can leave me alone and go where you like--to thetheatre, if you choose. I heard you say you wished to go. Here is themoney for you and Phillips, " and handing a bill to the slightly puzzledEsther, she dismissed her from the room. 

Meanwhile, at the elder Cameron's, no one had a suspicion of Katy'srecent presence, for the girl who had admitted her had gone to visit asick sister, with whom she was to spend the night. Thus Katy's secretwas safe, and Wilford, when at last he bade his mother good-by andstarted for home, was not prepared for the livid face, the bloodshoteyes, and the strange, unnatural look which met him at the threshold. 

Katy was waiting for him, and answered his ring herself, her handsgrasping his almost fiercely and dragging him up the stairs to her ownroom, where, more like a maniac than Katy Cameron, she confronted himwith the startling question:

"Who is Genevra Lambert? It is time I knew before committing greatersin. Tell me, Wilford, who is she?"

She was standing before him, her slight figure seeming to expand into agreater height, the features glowing with strong excitement, and her hotbreath coming hurriedly through her dilated nostrils, but never openingthe pale lips set so firmly together. There was something terrible inher look and attitude, and it startled Wilford, who recoiled a momentfrom her, scarcely able to recognize the Katy hitherto so gentle andquiet. She had learned his secret, but the facts must have beendistorted, he knew, or she had never been so agitated. From beneath hishair the great sweat drops came pouring, as he tried to approach her andtake the uplifted hands, motioning him aside with the words: "Not touchme; no, not touch me till you have told me who is Genevra Lambert. "

She repeated the question twice, and rallying all his strength Wilfordanswered her at last: "Genevra Lambert was my wife!"

"I thought so, " and the next moment Katy lay in Wilford's arms, dead, ashe feared, for there was no motion about the eyelids, no motion that hecould perceive about the pulse or heart, as he laid the rigid form uponthe bed and then bent every energy to restore her, even though he fearedthat it was hopeless. 

"I must do what I can, " he said, thinking once to send for a physicianand laying his hand upon the bell rope for the purpose of ringing up aservant; but a faint, gasping sound met his ear, assuring him there yetwas life and that Katy was not dead. 

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 unclosedagain, but with a shudder turned away as they met his. Then as she grewstronger and remembered the past she started up, exclaiming: "If GenevraLambert is your wife, what then am I? Oh, Wilford, how could you make menot a wife, when I trusted and loved you so much?"

He knew now that she was laboring under a mistake, and he did not wonderat the violence of her emotions if she believed he had wronged her socruelly, and coming nearer to her he said: "You mistake me; GenevraLambert was my wife once, but is not now, for she is dead. Do you hearme, Katy? Genevra died years ago, when you were a little girl playing inthe fields at home. "

By mentioning Silverton he hoped to bring back something of her oldenlook, in place of the expression which troubled and frightened him. Theexperiment was successful and great tears gathered in Katy's eyes, washing out the wild, unnatural gleam, while the lips whispered: "And itwas her picture Juno saw. She told me the night I came and I tried toquestion you. You remember?"

Wilford did remember it and he replied: "Yes, but I did not suppose youknew I had a picture. You have been a good wife, Katy, never to mentionit since then;" and he tried to kiss her forehead, but she covered itwith 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? Whyhave 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 youpromised to be mine? Try and recall the incidents of that hour and seeif I did not hint at some things past which I wished had beenotherwise--did not offer to show you the blackest page of my whole lifeand you would not see it. Was that so, Katy?"

"Yes, " she answered, and he continued: "You said you were satisfiedto take me as I was. You would not hear evil against me and so Iacquiesced, bidding you not shrink back if ever the time should comewhen you must read that page. I was to blame, I know, but there weremany extenuating circumstances, much to excuse me for withholding whatyou would not hear. "

Wilford did not like to be censured, neither did he like to censurehimself, and now that Katy was out of danger and comparatively calm, hebegan to build about himself a fortress of excuses for having kept fromher the secret of his life. 

"Would not most any man have done just as I did?" he continued. "Can youmention one who would not?"

"Yes, Cousin Morris, " Katy answered; "he would never have deceived methus. "

A little vexed at the mention of Dr. Grant, Wilford replied: "I do notpretend to be a saint, and I believe your cousin does; but I doubtwhether even he, with all his goodness, would do very differently fromwhat I have done; but tell me how, where did you hear of Genevra?"

Amid sobs and tears Katy told him how she had repented of her decisionnot to join him at his mother's, coming to the conclusion that she wasdoing wrong to seclude herself so much and trying her best to look wellagain in his eyes. 

"I meant to surprise you, " she said, "and when I heard your mother wasout I went into the library to wait, thinking you would come there, butyou did not, and I started to go to you when my feet were stopped, foryou were talking of me, Wilford, not bad, perhaps, but as you would nothave talked had you known that I was there where I heard the words whichburned like coals of fire, so that I could have screamed in mydistress. "

Katy was not weeping now and her face was like that of some accusingangel as she continued: "I thought my heart was broken when I heard youtalk so of me and Silverton, but that was nothing compared with whatcame next, when your mother spoke of Genevra. I thought it was my babyshe meant at first, and the tightness around my heart was giving way, for if you did complain of me to your mother, I could forgive thatbecause you were baby's father; but Genevra Lambert! oh, Wilford, I dieda thousand deaths in one when I first heard of her and understood whyyou objected to the name our baby finally bore. You did not wish to beso constantly reminded of the other wife. I could not sit there longer, the room around me grew so black, so I struggled to my feet and reachedthe door, going into the street and thinking once I would end mywretched life in the distant river; but something turned my steps towardhome and I came, thinking it all over and suffering such agony. Oh, Wilford, why did you keep it from me? What was there about it wrong andwhere is she buried?"

"In Alnwick, at St. Mary's, " Wilford answered, determining now to holdnothing back, and by his abruptness wounding Katy afresh. 

"In Alnwick, at St. Mary's" Katy cried. "Then I have seen her grave, andthat 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 muchbetter, so much better. "

There was sobbing now, in a moaning, plaintive way which touched Wilfordtenderly, and smoothing her tangled hair, he said: "I would not exchangemy Katy for all the Genevras in the world. She was never as dear to meas you. I was but a boy, and did not know my mind when I met her. ShallI 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 herside and began to read the page he should have read to her long before. 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

WHAT THE PAGE DISCLOSED. 

"I was little more than nineteen years of age when I left HarvardCollege and went abroad with my only brother, the John or Jack of whomyou 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 nearlya year we were in various parts of England, stopping for two months atBrighton, where, among the visitors, was a widow from the vicinity ofAlnwick, and with her an orphan niece whom I often met, and whosedazzling beauty attracted my youthful fancy. She was not happy with heraunt, upon whom she was wholly dependent, and my sympathies were allenlisted, when, with the tears shining in her lustrous eyes, she one dayaccidentally 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 outwith us, was married to an Englishman, making it necessary for Hatty tofind some one to take her place. Hearing of this, Genevra came one day, and to my secret delight offered herself as half companion, halfwaiting-maid to Hatty. Anything was preferable to the life she led, shesaid, pleading so hard that Hatty, after an interview with the oldaunt--a purse-proud, vulgar woman, who seemed glad to be rid of hercharge--consented to receive her, and Genevra became one of our family, an equal rather than a menial, whom Hatty treated with as muchconsideration as if she had been a sister. I wish I could tell you howbeautiful Genevra Lambert was at that period of her life. I have herpicture, which I will show you by and by, but it will not convey anadequate idea of her as she was then, with her brilliant Englishcomplexion, her eyes so full of poetry and passion, her perfectfeatures, and, more than all, the wondrous smile, which would have madea plain face handsome. She was full of life and spirits, with enough ofcoquetry about her to fascinate and turn older heads than mine. 

"Of course I came to love her, and loved her all the more for theopposition I knew my family would throw in the way of my marrying thedaughter of an English apothecary, and one who was voluntarily filling aservant's place. But with my mother across the sea, I could do anything;and when Genevra told me of a base fellow, as she termed him, who, sinceshe was a child, had sought her for his wife, and still pursued her withhis letters, my passions all were roused, and I offered myself at once. I do not think she anticipated this when she told me of the letters, asit might seem to you. She was neither designing nor artful, but, on thecontrary, wholly open-hearted and truthful, telling me the contents ofthe letter because I found her weeping over it and insisted upon knowingthe cause. Her answer to my offer was a decided refusal. She knew herposition, she said, and she knew mine, just as she knew the nature ofthe feeling which prompted me to act thus toward her. Although just myage, she was older in judgment and experience, and she seemed tounderstand the difference between our relative positions. I was notindifferent to her, she said, and were she my equal her answer might beotherwise than the decided no. 

"Of course this only made me more eager, particularly as during the nexttwo weeks she avoided me as much as possible, never stopping alone withme for a moment or giving me a chance to say a word in private. Madly inlove, and fancying I could not live without her, I besieged her withletters, some of which she returned unopened, while on the others shewrote a few hurried lines, calling me a boy, who did not know my ownmind, and asking what my friends would say. 

"I cared little for friends, urging my suit the more vehemently, as wewere about going into Scotland, where our marriage could be celebratedin private at any time. I say in private, for I did not contemplatemaking the affair public at once. That would take from the interest andromance, while, unknown to myself, there was at heart a fear of myfamily. 

"But not to dwell too long upon those days, which seem to me now so likea dream, we went to Scotland and were married privately, for I won herto this at last. And now comes the part where Jamie is concerned. On thenight of our marriage, Genevra, who had obtained permission to be absenton a plea of visiting a friend, had procured some one to take charge ofJamie, a red-faced girl from Edinburgh, who, unused to children, perchedthe child upon her shoulder, and while in this condition let him fall, injuring his spine and making him a cripple for life. Genevra neverforgave herself for that sad accident, which would not have happened hadshe remained at her post, while to me Jamie has ever since been a sacredthing, his helplessness which he bears so meekly a constant reproach, reminding me of what I would had never been. "

"Then you are sorry you married Genevra?" Katy exclaimed, turning partlytoward him, and giving the first token she as yet had given that she waslistening to the story. 

Sometimes Wilford was sorry and sometimes he was not, for there was aworld of pleasurable excitement connected with those months of secrecy, those private interviews, those stolen kisses, and little acts ofendearment, which so intoxicated and bewildered him that the talking ofthem now brought something of the olden thrill he had experienced, whenfor a moment he held Genevra's hand in his or wound his arm around herwaist, knowing he had a perfect right to do so. But it was better not toconfess this to Katy, and so he evaded the question, and continued:

"My brother's failing health, as well as Hatty's, prevented them fromsuspecting what was going on, and when at last we went to Italy they hadno idea that Genevra was my wife. At Rome her beautiful face attractedmuch attention from tourists and residents, among whom were a few youngmen, who, looking upon her as Jamie's nurse, or at most a companion forhis mother, made no attempt to disguise their admiration. For this I hadno redress except in an open avowal of the relation in which I stood toher, and this I could not then do, for the longer it was deferred theharder I found it to acknowledge her my wife. I loved her devotedly, andthat perhaps was one great cause of the jealousy which began to springup and embitter my life. 

"I do not believe that Genevra was at heart a coquette. She was veryfond of admiration, but when she saw how much I was disturbed shemade an effort to avoid those who flattered her, but her manner wasunfortunate, while her voice--the sweetest I ever heard--was calculatedto invite rather than repel attention. As the empress of the world, shewould have won and kept the homage of mankind, from the humblest beggarin the street to the king upon the throne, and had I been older I shouldhave been proud of what then was my greatest annoyance. But I wasyoung--a mere boy--and so I watched her jealously, until a new elementof disquiet was presented to me in the shape of a ruffianly lookingfellow, who was frequently seen about the premises, and with whom I oncefound Genevra in close converse, starting and blushing guiltily when Icame 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 wassomething wrong, particularly as I saw her with him again, and thoughtshe held his hand. 

"It was evident that my brother would never see America again, and athis request my mother came to us, in company with a family from Boston, reaching us two weeks before he died. From the first, she dislikedGenevra, suspecting the liking between us, but never dreaming of thetruth until a week after Jack's death, when in a fit of anger at Genevrafor 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 itsmother for advice, I asked, 'What shall I do?'

"You know mother, Katy--that is, you know her pride--and can in partunderstand 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 somoved as she was for a time, after learning that her only living son, from whom she expected so much, had thrown himself away, as sheexpressed it. Sister Hatty, who loved Genevra, did all she could to healthe growing difference between us, but I trusted mother most. I believedthat what she said was right, and so matters grew worse, until onenight, the last we spent in Rome, I missed Genevra from our rooms, andstarting in quest of her, found her in a little flower garden back ofour dwelling. There, under the deep shadow of a tree, and partlyconcealed from view, she stood with her arm around the neck of the samerough-looking man who had been there before. She did not see me as Istood and watched her while she parted with him, suffering him to kissher hand and forehead as he said, 'Good-by, my darling. '

"In a tremor of anger and excitement I quitted the spot, my mind whollymade up with regard to my future. That there was something wrong aboutGenevra I did not doubt, and I would not give her a chance to explain bytelling her what I had seen, but sent her back to England, giving herample means for defraying the expenses of her journey and for living incomfort after her arrival there. From Rome we went to Naples, and thento Switzerland, where Hatty died, leaving us alone with little Jamie. Itwas here at Berne that I received an anonymous letter from England, thewriter stating that Genevra was with her aunt, that the whole had endedas he thought it would, that he could readily guess at the nature of thetrouble, and hinting that if a divorce was desirable on my return toEngland, all necessary proof could be obtained by applying to such anumber in London, the writer announcing himself a brother of the man whohad 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. Instead of that the hope that Genevra might in some way be restored tome unspotted, had unconsciously been the daystar of my existence, and Ishrank from a final separation. But mother felt differently. It was nota new thought to her, knowing as she did that the validity of a Scotchmarriage, such as ours, was frequently contested in the English courts. Once free from Genevra the world this side the water would never know ofthat mistake, and she set herself steadily to accomplish her purpose. Totell you all that followed our return to England and the steps by whichI was brought to sue for a divorce would make my story too long, and soI will only state that, chiefly by the testimony of the anonymous letterwriter, whose acquaintance we made, a divorce was at last obtained, Genevra putting in no defense, but as I heard afterward, settling downto an apathy from which nothing had power to rouse her until the news ofher freedom from me was carried to her, when, amid a paroxysm of tearsand sobs she wrote me a few lines, assuring me of her innocence, refusing to send back her wedding ring, and saying God would not forgiveme for the great wrong I had done her. I saw her once after that byappointment and her face haunted me for years. Indeed, I sometimes seeit in my dreams as it confronted me then, with a look which I now knowwas a look of deeply injured innocence, for, Katy, Genevra was innocent, as I found after the time was past when reparation could be made. "

Wilford's voice trembled now, and for a moment there was silence in theroom while he composed himself to go on with the story:

"She would not live with me again if she could, she said, denouncingbitterly the Cameron pride and saying she was happier to be free. Iremember I tried to excuse myself, remember saying that if there hadbeen children or a child I should have paused before taking the decisivestep, and there we parted, but not until she had told me that hertraducer was the old discarded suitor who had sworn to have revenge, andwho, since the divorce, had dared seek her again. A vague suspicion ofthis had crossed my mind once before, but the die was cast, and even ifthe man were false, what I saw myself in Rome still stood against herand so my conscience was quieted, while mother was more than glad to berid of a daughter-in-law of whose family I knew nothing. Rumors I didhear of a cousin whose character was not the best, and of the fatherwho for some crime had fled the country, dying in a foreign land, but asthat was nothing to me now, I passed it by, feeling it was best to berelieved from one of so doubtful antecedents. 

"In the spring of 185- we came back to New York, where no one had everheard of the affair, so quietly and well had it been managed. I was ayoung man still, no one except my mother sharing in the secret. With herI often talked of Genevra, wishing sometimes that I could hear from her, a wish which was finally gratified. One day I received a note requestingan interview at a downtown hotel, the writer signing himself as ThomasLambert, and adding that I need have no fears as he came to perform anact of justice, not of retribution. Three hours later I was locked in aroom with Genevra's father, the same man whom I had seen in Rome. Detected in forgery years before, he had fled from England and hadhidden himself in Rome, where he accidentally met his daughter, and sothat stain was removed. He had heard of the divorce by a letter whichGenevra managed to send him, and braving all difficulties and dangers hehad come back to England and found his child, hearing from her the storyof her wrongs, and as well as he was able setting himself to discoverthe author of the calumny. He was not long in tracing it to Le Roy, whomhe found in a dying condition, and who with his last breath confessedthe falsehood which was imposed upon me, he said, partly from motives ofrevenge and partly with a hope that free from me Genevra would at thelast turn to him. As proof that Mr. Lambert told me the truth, hebrought the dying man's confession, written in a cramped, tremblinghand, which I recognized at once. The confession ended with the solemnassertion: 'For aught I know or believe, Genevra Lambert is as pure andtrue as any woman living. '

"I cannot describe the effect this had upon me. I did not love Genevrathen. I had outlived that affection, but I felt remorse and pity forhaving wronged her so, and asked how I could make amends. 

"'You cannot, ' the old man said, 'except in one way, and that she doesnot desire. I did not come here with any wish for you to take her foryour wife again. It was an unequal match which never should have been;but if you believe her innocent, she will be satisfied. She wanted youto know it, I wanted you to know it, and so I crossed the sea to findyou. '

"I sent a letter by him assuring her she stood acquitted in my mind ofall I had suspected her, and asked her pardon for the great wrong I haddone her. The next I heard of her was in the columns of an Englishnewspaper, which told me she was dead, while in another place a pencilmark was lightly turned around a paragraph, which said that 'a forger, Thomas Lambert, who escaped years ago and was supposed to be dead, hadrecently reappeared in England, where he was recognized, but notarrested, for the illness proved fatal. ' He was attended, the paper said, by his daughter, 'a beautiful young girl whose modest mien and gentlemanner had done much toward keeping the officers of justice from herdying father, no one being able to withstand her pleadings that herfather might die in peace. '

"I was grateful for this tribute, to Genevra, and I felt that it wasdeserved; turning again to the notice of her death, which must haveoccurred within a short time of her father's, and was probably inducedby past troubles and recent anxiety for him. 

"'Genevra Lambert died at Alnwick, aged twenty-two. ' There could be nomistake, and with a tear to the memory of the dead whom I had loved andinjured, I burned the paper, feeling that now there was no clew to thesecret I was as anxious to preserve as was my mother. 

"And so the years wore on till I met and married you, withholding fromyou that yours was not the first love which had stirred my heart, noryours the first head which had slept upon my arm. 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 youacross the sea to Brighton, where I first met Genevra, and then toAlnwick, seeking out the grave which made assurance doubly sure. It wasthat one in the far corner of St. Mary's where I went so often and whereonce you came, sitting upon the very mound whose headstone boreGenevra's name. I drew my breath quickly as if the dead were thusdishonored, but I knew you meant no harm, and as soon as possible Ihurried you away. It was natural that I should make some inquiriesconcerning her last days, but lest it should all come out kept me back, so that I only questioned the old sexton who once was at work nearby. Calling his attention to the name, I said it was an uncommon one andasked if he knew the girl. 

"'Not by sight, no, ' he said. 'She was only here a few days before shedied. I've heard she was very winsome and that there was a scandal ofsome kind mixed up with her. '

"I would not ask him any more; and without any wrong to you, my wife, Iconfess that my tears dropped upon the turf under which I knew Genevralay. "

"I am glad they did; I should hate you if you had not cried, " Katieexclaimed, her voice more natural than it had been since the great shockcame, and her own tears falling fast to the memory of Genevra, whosegrave she had sat upon with Wilford standing near. 

A buried wife was not so dreadful to contemplate as a wife divorced butliving still, and Katy's heart did not beat with quite so heavy throbsof fear and shame as it had at first. But it was very sore with thefeeling that to her almost as great a wrong had been done as to Genevra, for had he not deceived her from the very first, he and his mother, whohad been the terror of Genevra's life as she was the bane of Katy's. 

"Do you forgive me, Katy? Do you love me as well as ever?" Wilfordasked, stooping down to kiss her, but Katy drew her face away and didnot answer then. 

She did not know herself just how she felt toward him. He did not seemjust like the husband she had trusted in so blindly. It would take along 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 the complainingwords uttered to his mother. She had never thought he could do that, never dreamed of such a thing, knowing that she would sooner have partedwith her right hand than have complained of him. Her idol had fallen inmore respects than one, and the heart it had bruised in the fall refusedat once to gather the shattered pieces up and call them good as new. Shewas not obstinate, she was not sulky, as Wilford began to fancy. Shewas only stunned and could not rally at his bidding. He had confessedthe whole, keeping nothing back, and he felt that Katy was unjust not toacknowledge his magnanimity and restore him to her favor. Again he askedforgiveness, again bent down to kiss her, but Katy answered: "Not yet, Wilford, not till I feel all right toward you. A wife's kiss should besincere. "

"As you like, " trembled on Wilford's lips, but he beat back the wordsand walked up and down the room, knowing now that his journey must bedeferred till morning, and wondering if Katy would hold out till then. 

It was long past midnight, but to retire was impossible, and so for onewhole hour he paced through the room, while Katy lay with her eyesclosed and her lips moving occasionally in the words of prayer she triedto say, asking God to help her, and praying that she might in future layher treasures up where they could not so suddenly be swept away. Wearilythe hours passed, and the gray dawn was stealing into the room whenWilford again approached his wife and said, "You know I was to have lefthome last night on business. As I did not go then, it is necessary thatI leave this morning. Are you able to stay alone for three days or more?Are you willing?"

"Yes--oh, yes, " Katy replied, feeling that to have him gone while shebattled with the pain lying so heavy at her heart would be a greatrelief. 

Perhaps he suspected this feeling in part, for he bit his lipimpatiently, and without another word called up the servant whose dutyit was to prepare his early breakfast. Cold and cheerless seemed thedining-room, to which an hour later he repaired, and tasteless was thebreakfast without Katy there to share it. She had been absent many timesbefore, but never just as now, with this wide gulf between them, and ashe broke his egg and tried to drink his coffee, Wilford felt like onefrom whom every support had been swept away, leaving him tottering andgiddy. He did not like the look of Katy's face or the sound of hervoice, and as he thought upon them, self began to whisper again that shehad no right to stand out so long when he had confessed everything, andby the time his breakfast was finished Wilford Cameron was, in his ownestimation, an abused an injured man, so that it was with an air ofdefiance rather than humility that he went again to Katy. She, too, hadbeen thinking, and as the result of her thoughts she lifted up her headas he came in and said, "I can kiss you now, Wilford. "

It was human nature, we suppose--at least it was Wilford's nature--whichfor 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 leftthat room the kiss of pardon was upon his lips and comparative quiet wasin his heart. 

"The picture, Wilford--you have forgotten that, " Katy called after him, as he was running down the stairs. 

Wilford would rather have been with her when she first looked uponGenevra, but there was not time for that, and hastily unlocking hisprivate drawer he carried the case to Katy's room, laying it upon thebureau and saying to her: "I would not mind it now, until it is fullylight. Try and sleep a while. You need the rest so much. "

Katy knew she had the whole day before her in which to investigate theface of one who once had filled her place, and so she nestled down amongher pillows, and soon fell into a quiet sleep, from which Esther, wholooked in upon her several times, at last awakened her, asking if sheshould bring her breakfast to her room. 

"Yes, do, " Katy replied, adjusting her dress and trying to arrange thematted curls, which were finally confined in a net until Esther's morepracticed hands were ready to attack them. 

And all this while the picture lay upon the bureau--the square, old-fashioned daguerreotype, which Katy shrank from opening. 

"I'll wait till after breakfast, " she said; then as the thought cameover her that if the face proved as beautiful as Wilford had described, she in her present forlorn condition would feel the contrast deeply, shesaid, "I'll wait till Esther has fixed my hair; then I will look atGenevra. "

Breakfasting did not occupy her long, and Esther soon was busy with hertoilet, combing out and looping-back her curls, and bringing a plaindress of rich bombazine, with fresh bands of white crape, as had beenworn the previous day. Katy's toilet was complete at last, and as Estherclosed the door behind her, Katy, with a trembling hand, took from thedrawer, where she had hid it from Esther's eyes, the picture of GenevraLambert. 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

THE EFFECT. 

With a shiver Katy held it a moment in her lap, noticing how old andworn it looked--noticing, too, the foreign mark upon it, and that onehinge was broken, wondering if all this wear had come from frequent use. Had Wilford looked often at that picture?--and if so, what were hisfeelings as he looked? Was he sorry that Genevra died? Did he sometimeswish her there, instead of Katy Lennox, of Barlow origin? Did hecontrast their faces one with the other, giving the preference toGenevra, or was Katy's liked the best? All these questions Katy askedherself, while her fingers fluttered about the clasp, which she halfdreaded to unfasten. 

Cautiously, very cautiously, at last the lid was opened, and a lock ofsoft brown hair fell out, clinging to Katy's hand as if it had been aliving thing, and making her shudder with fear as she shook off thesilken tress and remembered that the head it once adorned was lying inSt. Mary's churchyard, where the English daisies grew. 

"She had pretty hair, " she thought; "darker, richer than mine, " and intoKaty's heart there crept a feeling akin to jealousy, lest Genevra hadbeen fairer than herself, as well as better loved. "I won't be foolishany longer, " she said, and turning resolutely to the light she openedthe lid again and saw Genevra Lambert, starting quickly, then lookingagain more closely--then, with a gasp, panting for breath, while likelightning flashes the past came rushing over her, as, with her eyesfixed 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, forshe still walked the earth a living woman, whom Katy knew sowell--Marian Hazelton. That was the name Katy could not speak, as, withthe blood curdling in her veins and freezing about her heart, she satcomparing the face she remembered so well with the one before her. Insome points they were unlike, for thirteen years had slightly marred theyouthful contour of the face she knew--had sharpened the features andthinned the abundant hair; but still there could be no mistake. Theeyes, the brow, the smile, the nose, all were the same, and with a pangbitterer than she yet had felt, poor Katy fell upon her face and askedthat she might die. In her utter ignorance of law, she fancied that ifGenevra were alive, she had no right to Wilford's name--no right to behis wife--especially as the sin for which Genevra was divorced had byher never been committed, and burning tears of bitter shame ran down hercheeks as she whispered, "'What God hath joined together let no man putasunder. ' 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 carpetwhere she was kneeling Katy writhed in agony as she tried to think whatshe 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 ofGenevra's living. Maybe she was; there was a Mrs. Grainier in the citydivorced from her first husband and living with her second; but then theman was a profligate, a most abandoned wretch, who had not been provedinnocent, as Genevra had, and that must make a difference. "Oh, if therewas only some one to advise me--some one who knew and would tell me whatwas right, " Katy moaned, feeling herself inadequate to meet the darkhour 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 betold to them, and then with a great bound her heart turned at last toMorris. He knew everything. He would not sanction a wrong. He would tellher 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 knowas much as Morris--he did not understand everything. Morris was herrefuge, and to him she would go that very day, leaving a note forWilford in case she never came back, as possibly she might not. Andthen, like an imprisoned bird, which sees its cage door opened at last, but dreads the freedom offered, Katy drew her bleeding wings close toher side and shrank from the cold world which lay outside that home ofluxury. But when she remembered that possibly she had no right to staythere, she grew strong again, and, seizing her pen, dashed off a wild, impassioned letter, which, if her husband did not find her there on hisreturn, would tell him where she was and why she had gone. This she leftin a drawer appropriated to Wilford's use, and where he could not failto find it; but the picture she put in her own pocket, not caring topart with that. Had Marian been in the city she would have gone to herat once, but Marian was where long rows of cots are ranged against thehospital walls, each holding a maimed and suffering soldier, to whom sheministered so tenderly, the brightness of her smile and the beauty ofher face deluding the delirious ones into the belief that the journey oflife for them was ended and heaven reached at last, where an angel inwoman's garb attended upon them. Marian was impossible, and Dr. Grantwas the only alternative left. 

Summoning Esther, Katy told her, in as calm a voice as she couldcommand, that, feeling very lonely, she was going out to spend the day, and probably the night. At all events the servants were not to expecther until she came. 

"Yes, ma'am--going to Mr. Cameron's, I suppose?" Esther said, and asKaty made no answer the impression in Esther's mind was that she wouldspend the day and night at the elder Cameron's, as she had done oncebefore when Wilford was away. 

And this was the intelligence carried to the servants, who wondered thattheir mistress did not order the carriage, but started off on foot, herface looking ghastly white beneath the folds of her crape veil as sheclosed the door behind and looked back at the home she might be leavingforever. The carriage, she knew, would lead to detection, and as it wasnot far to the New Haven depot, she kept on her way until the train wasreached, and she in a seat by herself was looking with eyes which couldnot weep over the city she was so fast leaving behind. Had she for onemoment suspected Morris's love, all her womanly instincts would havekept her from seeking him then, but she had no such suspicion. Morriswas her elder brother, and like a stricken sister she was going to himwith her grief, sure of sympathy and sure of counsel for the right. 

The afternoon was cold and stormy, so that it was late in the eveningwhen the long train reached West Silverton, where Katy was to stop. Owing to the storm but few were at the depot, and among them none whorecognized Katy Cameron beneath the heavy veil she kept so closely overher face, even while asking for a conveyance out to Linwood. It was acomparative boy who volunteered his services, and as he had recentlycome to Silverton he knew nothing of Katy or of Dr. Grant, so that shewas saved from all embarrassment upon that point; her driver neveraddressing her except to ask the way, which was not wholly familiar tohim. 

"Turn here. Yes, that is right, " she said, when they reached the roadwhich led to Linwood, and a feeling like guilt crept over her as throughthe leafless trees and across the meadow land she spied the farmhouselight shining through the drifting snow as if beckoning her to come. "Not yet--not now. I must see Morris first, " she answered mentally tothat silent invitation, and drawing the buffalo skin around her with ashiver. She did not look again toward the farmhouse, but onward to wherethe lights of Linwood shone through the wintry darkness. "This is theplace, " she said, and in a moment she stood upon the broad stone steps, shaking the snow from her cloak, while the boy waited a moment, hopingto be invited to share the warmth he felt there was within that handsomebuilding. 

Katy would rather he should not stop, but when she saw how cold he wasshe began to relent, and telling him where to shelter his horse, pointedto the basement bidding him go in there. Then, with a hesitating stepon she began to wonder what Morris would say, she crossed the widepiazza and softly turning the door knob, stood in the hall at Linwood. 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

THE INTERVIEW. 

Dr. Morris was very tired, for his labors that day had been unusuallysevere, and it was with a feeling of comfort and relief that he hadturned his steps homeward just as the night was closing in, finding abright fire waiting for him in the library, where his supper was soonbrought by the housekeeper, Mrs. Hull, the other servants having gone toan adjoining town to attend the wedding party of a former associate. Itwas very pleasant in that cozy library of oak and green, with the brightfire on the hearth, the heavy curtains shutting out all traces of thestorm, and the smoking supper set so temptingly before him. And Morrisfelt the comfort of his home, thanking the God who had given him allthis, and chiding his wayward heart that it had ever dared to repine. Hewas not repining to-night; he had not repined for many a day, though henever sat down at home after his day's labor in slippers anddressing-gown, with a new book beside him on the table, that there wasnot a sense of something wanting, a glancing at the empty chair acrossthe hearth, a thought perhaps of Katy, who could squeeze the whole ofher slight form into that chair. But he was not thinking of her now, aswith his hands crossed upon his head he sat looking into the fire andwatching the bits of glowing anthracite dropping into the pan. He wasthinking of the sickbed which he had visited last, and how a faith inJesus can make the humblest room like the gate of heaven; thinking howthe 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 howquickly their luster was dimmed when she spoke of her absent husband, the soldier to whom the news of her death with the child he had neverseen would be a crushing blow. 

"They who have neither wife nor child are the happier perhaps, " he said, and then the thought of Katy and her great sorrow when baby died, wondering if to spare herself that pain she would rather baby had neverbeen. "No--oh, no, " he answered to his own inquiry. "She would not losethe memory which comes from that little grave for all the worldcontains. It is better once to love and lose than not to love at all. Inheaven we shall see and know why these things were permitted, and marvelat the poor human nature which rebelled against them. "

Just at this point of his soliloquy the door opened, so softly that hedid not hear it turn upon its hinges, nor hear the light footstep on thecarpet as Katy came in. But when she coughed he started up in wonder atthe apparition standing so still before him. 

"Morris, oh, Morris, " Katy cried, throwing back her veil and revealing aface which Morris could not believe was hers for the lines of sufferingand distress stamped so legibly upon it. 

But it was Katy, as the voice implied, and, seizing her cold hands, Morris asked: "Katy, why are you here to-night, and why are you alone?Has anything happened? Tell me! your looks frighten me!"

"I am so wretched--so full of pain. I have heard of something dreadful, "she replied--"something which took my life away. I could not stay thereafter that, and so I come to you. I am not Wilford's wife, for he hadanother, before me--a wife in Italy--who is not dead! And I--oh! Morris, what am I? Untie my bonnet, do! It is choking me to death! I am--yes--Iam--going--to faint!"

It was the first time Katy had put the great horror in words addressedto another, and the act of doing so made it more appalling, while theexcitement and fatigue she had endured, together with the action of theheat upon her chilled system, took her strength away, and into the chairwhere Morris had so often seen her in fancy, she sank a crumpled heap ofcloaks and furs and bonnet, which Morris tried to remove so as to reachthe limp, fainting creature which had said: "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 naturehad been subdued, there was enough left to make his heart rise and fallwith great throbs of joy as he thought of Katy free, even though thatfreedom were bought at the expense of dire disgrace to others and ofmisery to her. But only for a moment did he feel thus, only till thebonnet was removed and the gaslight fell upon the pallid face with thedark rings beneath the eyes, and the faint, quivering motion around thelips, which told that she was not wholly unconscious. 

"My poor little wounded bird, " he said, as pityingly as if he had beenher father, while, much as a father might kiss his suffering child, hekissed the forehead and the eyelids where the tears began to gather. 

Katy was not insensible, and the name by which he called her, with thekisses that he gave, thawed the ice around her heart and brought a floodof tears which Morris wiped away, removing her heavy fur and lifting hergently up, while he took away the cloak and left her unencumbered. Witha sigh she sank back into the chair, and, leaning her head upon itscushioned arm, moaned like a weary child. 

"It is so pleasant to be here, and it rests me so. I wish I might nevergo away. May I stay here, Morris, as your housekeeper, instead of Mrs. Hull?--that is, if I am not his wife. The world might despise me, butyou would know I was not to blame. I should go nowhere but to thefarmhouse, to church, and baby's grave. Poor baby! I am glad God gaveher to me, even if I am not Wilford's wife; and I am glad now that shedied. "

She was talking to herself rather than to Morris, who, smoothing backher hair and chafing her cold hands, said:

"My poor child, you have passed through some agitating scene. Are youable now to tell me all about it, and what you mean by another wife?"

He saw she was greatly exhausted, and he brought her a glass of wine, hoping she would rally. She had no supper, she said, except a crackerbought in Springfield, but the moment he turned to the bellrope shebegged him not to ring. She was not hungry--she could not eat. Sheshould never eat again. 

Wishing himself to know something definite ere going to Mrs. Hull, Morris yielded to her entreaties, and sitting down in front of her, saidagain: "Now tell me what brought you here without your husband'sknowledge. "

There was a shiver, and the white lips grew still whiter as Katy beganher story, going back to St. Mary's churchyard, and then coming to herfirst night in New York, when Juno had told her of a picture and askedher whose it was. Then she told of Wilford's admission of an earlierlove, who, he said, was dead; of the trouble about the baby's name, andhis aversion to Genevra; of his frequent abstracted moods, which sheremembered now, never suspecting at the time their cause, and notknowing now for certain that Genevra was the subject of his thoughts. But it was safe to believe almost anything of one who had deceived herso cruelly, and Katy's blue eyes flashed resentfully as she uttered thefirst bitter words she had ever breathed against her husband. But whenshe approached the dinner at the elder Cameron's, her lip quivered in agrieved kind of way as she remembered what Wilford had said of her tohis mother, but she would not tell this to Morris, it was not necessaryto her story, and so she said: "They were talking of what I ought neverto have heard, and it seemed as if the walls were closing me in so thatI could not move to let them know I was there. I said to myself, 'Ishall go mad after this, ' and I thought of you all coming to see me inthe madhouse, your kind face, Morris, coming up distinctly before me, just as it would look at me if I were really crazed. But all this wasswept away like a hurricane when I heard the rest, the part aboutGenevra, Wilford's other wife. "

Katy was panting for breath and Morris brought the wine again, afterwhich she went on with the story, which made Morris clinch his hands ashe comprehended the deceit which had been practiced so long. Of coursehe did not look at it as Katy did, for he knew that according to allcivil 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 wivesliving, and I tell you I knew the picture--Genevra is not dead. I haveseen her; I have talked with her--Genevra is not dead. "

"Granted that she is not, " Morris answered, "the divorce remains thesame. "

"I do not believe in divorces. 'Whom God hath joined together let no manput asunder, '" Katy said with an air which implied that from thisargument there could be no appeal. 

"That is the Scripture I know, " Morris replied, "but you must rememberthat for one sin our Savior permitted a man to put away his wife, thusmaking it perfectly right. "

"But in Genevra's case the sin did not exist. She was as innocent as Iam, and that must make a difference. "

She was very earnest in her attempts to prove that Genevra was still alawful wife, so earnest that a dark suspicion entered Morris's mind, finding vent in the question, "Katy, don't you love your husband, thatyou try so hard to prove he is not yours?"

There were red spots all over Katy's face and neck as she saw themeaning put upon her actions, and covering her face with her hands shesobbed violently as she replied: "I do, oh, yes, I do. I never loved anyone else. I would have died for him once. Maybe I would die for him now;but, Morris, I fear he is disappointed in me. Our tastes are not alike, and we made a great mistake, or Wilford did when he took me for hiswife. I was better suited to most anybody else, and I have been sowicked since, forgetting all the good I ever knew, forgetting prayersave as I went through the form from old habit's sake, forgetting God, who has overtaken me at last and punished me so sorely that every nervesmarts with the stinging blows. "

Oh, how lovingly, how earnestly Morris talked to Katy then, telling herof Him who smites but to heal, who chastens not in anger, but who wouldlead the lost one back into the quiet fold where there was perfectpeace. 

And Katy, listening eagerly, with her great blue eyes fixed upon hisface, felt that to be like him, to experience that of which he talked, was worth more than all the world beside. Gradually; too, there stoleover her the rest she always felt with him--the indescribable feelingwhich prompted her to care for nothing except to do just what he badeher do, knowing it was right. So when he said at last, "You must go backto New York; this is no place for you, " she offered no remonstrance; butwhen he continued, "And you must go to-night; that is, you must take theearly morning train, so as to reach the city before any one has had achance to read the letter, " she demurred at once. "She must see mother;she must see Helen; she must tell Helen who Genevra was. She wanted herto know it, but no one else. She must visit baby's grave; she could notgo back without it. "

"Not if it is right?" Morris asked, and Katy began to waver when he toldher how much better it would be for her family not to know of this visitto him, as it would trouble them. She could tell Wilford, if she liked, but he must not be permitted to find the letter, as he would if hereturned while she was gone. "I will go with you. It is not safe for youto go alone, " he continued, feeling her rapid pulse and noticing thealternate flushing and paling of her cheek. 

A fever was coming on, he feared, and it must not be there with him, formore reasons than one. She must return to New York, or, failing to dothat, he must take her across the fields to the farmhouse before thecoming dawn. 

"Are you sick, Katy?" he asked, as she appeared to be growing stupid. 

"Not sick, no; only so tired, so sleepy, " and the heavy lids closed overthe dull eyes, while Katy's head still lay upon the cushioned arm of thelarge chair. 

Her position was not an easy one, and wheeling the lounge to the fireMorris brought a pillow from his sleeping room adjoining, and takingKaty in his arms laid her where she would at least be more comfortablethan in the chair. Wrapping his shawl about her and turning down the gasso as to shield her eyes, he left her alone, while he went to Mrs. Hull, puzzling her brain to know who the lady was, brought there that stormynight, and talking so long and earnestly with the doctor. The driver boywas gone, and thinking it possible that their visitor might be wantingsupper, the thoughtful woman had put the kettle on the stove, where itwas sending forth volumes of steam just as Morris appeared. If he wentto New York with Katy he must trust Mrs. Hull with his reasons forgoing, and as from past experience he believed she could be trusted, hefrankly told her that Mrs. Wilford Cameron was in the library; thatcircumstances rendered it desirable for her to return to New York assoon as possible; that as she could not go alone he must of course gowith her, and he expected Mrs. Hull not only to help him off, but alsoto keep the fact of Katy's having been there a secret from every one. 

"Some trouble with that high-headed husband of hers; I always mistrustedhim, " was Mrs. Hull's mental conclusion, as she nodded assent to whatMorris had said, asking if he proposed taking the early morning trainwhich passed at four o'clock, and who did he expect would drive hiscutter back, as the boys would not be home before broad daylight. 

Here was a dilemma of which Morris had not thought, but Mrs. Hull'swoman's wits came to his aid, suggesting that he "leave his horse at thetavern in West Silverton and she would send John after it as soon as hereturned. "

This arranged, Mrs. Hull next asked if Katy would not have some supperbefore her long ride. 

"A cup of tea and a slice of toast was all she would require, " Morrissaid, and he felt many doubts about her touching that. 

She was sleeping when he returned to her, but when the tea was ready, she roused up enough to say she did not want it. 

"Make her drink it if you ever expect to get her to New York, " Mrs. Hullsuggested, alarmed at the redness of Katy's face, and the brightness ofher eyes. 

"You must drink it, " Morris said. "It will make you stronger for theride. We are going very soon, you know--going to New York, " and he shookher shoulder gently as he tried to make her comprehend. 

When he said she must, Katy lifted up her head, doing whatever he badeher do, and seeming more natural for the exertion and the food she took. 

"Let me rest now for a little while, " she said, and lying back upon herpillow she slept for an hour, while Morris knelt beside her, countingher rapid pulse, marking the progress of the fever and prayingearnestly that she might be able to reach New York, and that no seriousconsequences would result from his taking her there that night. 

To others it might seem a crazy project, but Morris felt that it wasright, and he nerved himself to his part of the toil, harnessing his ownhorse and leading him around to the door, where he left him while hewent to get Katy ready. She was not sleeping now, for the powerfulstimulant given just before leaving her had taken effect, and she seemeda great deal better, fastening her cloak herself and tying her ownbonnet, while Morris put an extra shawl around her, and Mrs. Hullbrought the hot soapstone prepared for her feet. Then, when all wasready, Morris carried her to the covered sleigh, wrapping robes and fursaround her so that it seemed impossible she should take cold. 

The storm had now abated, and the moon shone brightly upon the cold, frosty snow, as they sped along, Morris' bells tinkling in the clearcutting air, and occasionally waking some light sleeper, who knew thosemusical bells, and said: "That is the doctor, " wondering who was sick, and as they nestled down again in their warm bed, feeling glad that theywere not obliged to be abroad in a wintry night like this. There was noone at the West Silverton depot except the man who always stayed there, and he was too nearly asleep to notice whether it was one or twentyladies whom Morris accompanied into the sitting-room, going next toprovide for his horse at the hotel nearby. 

This done he came back to Katy, staying by her until the early traincame swiftly in, pausing only for a moment, and when next it movedforward, bearing him and Katy on the strange journey to New York. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

GETTING HOME. 

Springfield was left behind just as the gray daylight came stealingthrough the frost-bound windows, rousing the sleepy passengers, andmaking Morris pull his wide collar a little closer about his face as ifto avoid observation. He was not afraid of daylight except as it mightdisclose some old acquaintance who would perhaps wonder to see him atthat hour between Springfield and Hartford, and wonder more whose wasthe head resting so confidentially upon his shoulder, for after thechange at Springfield, Katy, who could no longer keep awake, had leanedagainst his arm as readily as if he had been her brother. 

A secret of any kind makes its possessor suspicious, and Morris feltanxious whenever any one glanced that way, but he would not waken Katy, who slept upon his arm until New York was reached, when with afrightened, startled feeling, she sat up, and pushing her veil from herface, looked about her, nodding half unconsciously to Thomas Tubbs, whomshe knew from having seen him in her husband's office, and who sinceleaving Hartford had been a passenger on board that train, sitting justbehind Dr. Morris, and wondering when he saw who his companion was, "ifMrs. Wilford had been to Silverton. " Mattie wondered, too, when he toldher, as she poured his half-cold coffee, and then it passed from hismind, until the following morning when he heard Mark Ray saying to aclient who had asked when Mr. Cameron would probably return:

"If he does not come to-day, we shall telegraph for him, as his wife isvery sick. "

Then Tom remembered how white and haggard Katy's face had looked, andmany times that day his mind recurred to Katy Cameron, whom in hisboyish way he had admired as something supernaturally beautiful, andwho, in her own room at home, lay burning with fever, and talking ofSilverton, of Linwood, of baby, of Genevra, and of Wilford. 

Morris had seen her safely to her own door, and then thinking she woulddo best alone for a time, he left her on the steps, after having rungthe bell and seen that the ring was answered. 

It was Esther who met her, expressing much concern at her appearance, and asking why she did not stay at Father Cameron's instead of cominghome this cold raw day. 

Hardly knowing what she did, Katy motioned Esther to her after reachingher room, and whispered:

"I have not been to Father Cameron's. I had business somewhere else, butyou must not tell. I am in trouble, Esther, or rather, I have been. Iguess it's over now. You are a good girl, and I can trust you. There'sa letter in that drawer, please bring it to me. "

Either complied, and Katy held in her hand the letter left for Wilford. It had not been opened. It must never be opened now, and holding ituntil a fire was kindled in the grate, she tossed it into the flames, watching it as it crispened and blackened upon the glowing coals. 

The quick-witted Esther saw that something was wrong, and traced itreadily to Wilford, whose exacting nature she thoroughly understood. Shehad not been blind during the two years and a half she had been Katy'smaid, and no impatient word of Wilford's, or frown upon his face, hadescaped her when occurring in her presence, while Katy's uniformsweetness and entire submission to his will had been noted as well, sothat in Esther's opinion Wilford was a domestic tyrant, and Katy was anangel. There was no danger then of Esther's repeating anythingforbidden. She had, of course, her own private speculation on thesubject, and when she learned that the tall, handsome man who camewithin an hour after Katy's arrival was Dr. Grant, about whom she hadheard both her young mistress and Mrs. Cameron talk so much, her woman'swits came to her aid again, and to herself she said:

"It's to Silverton Mrs. Cameron went, though how she could get there andback so soon is a mystery to me, or why she went at all. "

Then as she remembered all the circumstances which followed the dinnerfor which Katy had dressed with so much care, and the burning of theletter, a wild conjecture passed through her mind as to the nature ofthe trouble which had taken Katy to Silverton in her husband's absence, leaving a letter for him, and then burning it up when she came back, accompanied by Dr. Grant. For that he did come with her Esther was sure, as she saw him on the steps when she answered Katy's ring, and knew theman who now sat in the parlor waiting for her to take his name to Katywas the same. 

"There is something in the wind, " she thought, as she carried Morris'name to Katy, who did not seem to hear, or if she did, she paid no heed, but talked of the blinding snow, and the grave in St. Mary's churchyard, which was no grave at all. 

Her manner, more than her looks, frightened the girl, who retreated downthe stairs, meeting Morris in the hall, and saying as she grasped hisarm:

"You are a doctor, Dr. Grant. Come, then, to Mrs. Cameron. She is takenout of her head, and talks so queer and raving. "

Morris had expected this, but he was not prepared to find the fever sohigh, or the symptoms so alarming. 

"Shall I send for Mrs. Cameron and another doctor, please?" Estherasked. 

Morris had faith in himself, and he would rather no other hand shouldminister to Katy; but he knew he could not stay there long, for therewere those at home who needed his services. Added to this, her familyphysician might know her constitution now better than he knew it, and sohe answered that it would be well to send for both the doctor and Mrs. Cameron. 

It was growing dark now in the city, and the shadows were stealing intothe room where Morris sat down to wait for other counsel and the arrivalof Mrs. Cameron. To the servants in the kitchen Esther stated, with avery matter-of-course air, that her mistress had come home, feelingsick, and that as she seemed getting worse, she was to send to MadamCameron, adding that it was a piece of great good luck that Dr. Grant, from Silverton, who was her cousin, happened to be in the city, and hadcalled just when he was needed the most. 

"He was the doctor whom Jamie talked so much about, " she said; "thedoctor whom the family met in Paris, " dwelling so long on Dr. Grant anddiscussing him so volubly that Phillips and the other servants lostsight entirely of what had struck them a little oddly, to wit: that Mrs. Wilford should leave Father Cameron's if she was so very sick. 

It was Esther who met Mrs. Cameron in the hall, conducting her into theparlor and adopting a different style of argument with her from thatused in the basement. "Mrs. Wilford was not well when her husband wentaway; but of course he thought nothing of it, neither didshe--Esther--until to-day, when she came in from the street, lookingvery badly, and going directly to her bed, where she had been growingworse ever since. "

"Yes, " and Mrs. Cameron beat her foot thoughtfully. "I wish I had calledyesterday. I did speak of it, fearing she would be lonely. "

"I dare say she was, " Esther replied, never changing color in the least, although somewhat afraid she was being driven to the wall. "She seemeddowncast all the morning, but went about noon. I thought maybe she wouldcall on you. "

"I wish she had, " Mrs. Cameron replied, and then Esther told her howprovidential it was that a Dr. Grant from Silverton happened to come toNew York that very day. Of course he called upon his cousin, firstsending up his card, and then going himself when told that Mrs. Cameronwas out of her head and did not understand who was waiting to see her. 

Completely befogged with regard to a part of the play enacting beforeher eyes, Mrs. Cameron exclaimed: "Dr. Grant, of Silverton! I have theutmost confidence in his skill. Still, it may be well for Dr. Craig tosee her. I think that is his ring. "

The city and country physicians agreed exactly with regard to Katy'sillness, or rather the city physician bowed in acquiescence when Morrissaid to him that the fever raging so high had perhaps been induced bynatural causes, but was greatly aggravated by some sudden shock to thenervous system. This was before Mrs. Cameron came up, but it wasrepeated in her presence by Dr. Craig, who thus left the impression thatthe idea had originated with himself rather than with Dr. Grant, asperhaps he thought it had. He was at first inclined to patronize thecountry doctor, but soon found that he had reckoned without his host. Morris knew more of Katy and quite as much of medicine as he didhimself, and when Mrs. Cameron begged him to stay longer he answeredthat her son's wife was as safe in his brother physician's hands as shecould be in his. 

"Indeed, she's safer, " he added, "for Dr. Grant can watch her everymoment, and I leave her in his care, calling again of course in themorning. "

Mrs. Cameron was very glad that Dr. Grant was there, she said. It wassurely Providence who sent him to New York on that particular day, andMorris shivered as he wondered if it were wrong not to explain the wholeto her. 

"Perhaps it is best she should not know of Katy's journey to Silverton, "he thought, and merely bowing to her remarks, he turned to Katy, who wasgrowing very restless and moaning as if in pain. 

"It hurts, " she said, turning her head from side to side; "I am lying onGenevra. "

With a sudden start Mrs. Cameron drew nearer, but when she rememberedthe little grave at Silverton, she said: "It's the baby she's talkingabout. "

Morris knew better, and as Katy still continued to move her head as ifsomething were really hurting her, he passed his hand under her pillowand drew out the picture which she had held as long as her consciousnessremained. He knew it was Genevra's picture, and was about to lay it awaywhen the cover dropped from his hand and his eye fell upon a face whichwas not new to him, while an involuntary exclamation of surprise brokefrom his lips as Katy's assertion that Genevra was living was thus fullyconfirmed. Marian had not changed past recognition since her earlygirlhood, and Morris knew the likeness at once, pitying Katy more thanhe had pitied her yet, as he remembered how closely Marian Hazelton hadbeen interwoven with her married life and the life of the little childwhich had borne her name. 

"What is that?" Mrs. Cameron asked, and Morris passed the case to her, saying: "A picture was under Katy's pillow. "

Morris did not look at Mrs. Cameron, but tried to busy himself with themedicines upon the stand, while she, too, recognized Genevra Lambert, wondering how it came in Katy's possession, and how much she knew ofWilford's secret. 

"She most have been rummaging, " she thought, and then, as sheremembered what Esther had said about her mistress appearing sick andunhappy when her husband left, she repaired to the parlor and summoningEsther to her presence, asked her again: "When she first observed tracesof indisposition in Mrs. Cameron. "

Considerably flurried and anxious to prove true to Katy, Esther replied, at random: "When she came home from that dinner at your house. She wasjust as pale as death, and her teeth fairly chattered as I took off herthings. "

"Dinner? What dinner?" Mrs. Cameron asked, and Esther replied: "Why, thenight Mr. Wilford went away or was to go. She changed her mind aboutmeeting him at your house and said she meant to surprise him. But shecame home before Mr. Cameron, looking like a ghost and saying she wassick. It's my opinion something she ate at dinner hurt her. "

"Very likely; yes. You can go now, " Mrs. Cameron said, and Estherdeparted, never dreaming how much light she had inadvertently thrownupon the mystery. 

"She must have been in the library and heard all we said, " Mrs. Cameronthought, as she nervously twisted the fringe of her breakfast shawl. "Iremember we talked of Genevra, and I remember, too, that we both heard astrange 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 ofthe house. I wonder does Wilford know, " and then there came over her anintense desire for Wilford to come home, a desire which was not lessenedwhen she returned to Katy's room and heard her talking of Genevra andthe grave at St. Mary's "where nobody was buried. "

In a tremor of distress, lest she should betray something which Morrismust not know, Mrs. Cameron tried to hush her, talking as if it was thebaby she meant, the Genevra who died at Silverton; but Katy answeredpromptly: "I'm not to be hoodwinked any longer. It's Genevra Lambert Imean, Wilford's other wife; the one across the sea, whom you and hebrowbeat. She was innocent, too--as innocent as I, whom you bothdeceived. "

Here was a phase of affairs for which Mrs. Cameron was not prepared, and excessively mortified that Morris should hear Katy's ravings, shetried again to quiet her, consoling herself with the reflection that asMorris was Katy's cousin, he would not repeat what he heard, and feelinggratified now that Dr. Craig was absent, as she could not be so sure ofhim. If Katy's delirium continued, no one must be admitted to the roomexcept those who could be trusted, and as there had been already severalrings, she said to Esther that as the fever was probably malignant andcontagious, no one must be admitted to the house with the expectation ofseeing the patient, while the servants were advised to stay in their ownquarters, except as their services might be needed elsewhere. And so itwas that by the morrow the news had spread of some infectious disease atNo. ---- on Madison Square, which was shunned as carefully as if thesmallpox itself had been raging there instead of the brain fever, whichincreased so fast that Morris suggested to Mrs. Cameron that shetelegraph for Wilford. 

"They might find him, and they might not, " Mark Ray said, when themessage came down to the office. "They could try, at all events, " and ina few moments the telegraphic wires were carrying the news of Katy'sillness, both to the West, where Wilford had gone, and to the East, where Helen read with a blanched cheek that Katy perhaps was dying, andshe was needed again. 

This was Mrs. Cameron's suggestion, wrung out by the knowing that somewoman besides herself was needed in the sickroom, and by the feelingthat Helen could be trusted with the story of the first marriage, whichKaty talked of constantly, telling it so accurately that only a foolwould fail of being convinced that there was much of truth in thosedelirious ravings. 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

THE FEVER AND ITS RESULTS. 

On every business paper Wilford wrote or signed, and in every object hemet in his journey, one face had been prominent, and that the face ofKaty as it looked in the gray dawn when it lifted itself up to kiss him, while the white lips tried to speak his pardon. Sometimes Wilford wasvery sorry and full of remorse, knowing how Katy was suffering for hissin; and then, when he remembered her long refusal to pardon him, notwithstanding that he sued for it so earnestly, his self-importancewas touched, and he felt she had no right to be so obstinate. He did notdeserve it. He was a very kind, indulgent husband, who had raised herfrom the humblest position to the very highest, and she ought not tofeel so indignant because he had kept from her an act which, after all, did not affect her materially. If Genevra was living, and on this sideof the water, he could understand how it might be unpleasant for Katyand for him, too, knowing, as they both did, that she was innocent ofthe charges alleged against her. 

"I should not myself like to run the risk of meeting a divorced wife atany time, " he thought; "but Genevra is dead, and Katy ought to be morereasonable. I did not suppose there was so much spirit in her. "

But reason as he might, Wilford could not forget Katy's face, so full ofreproach. It followed him continually, and was the magnet which turnedhis steps homeward before his business was quite done, and before thetelegram found him. Thus it was with no knowledge of existingcircumstances that he reached New York just at the close of the dayafter Katy's return, and ordering a carriage, was driven rapidly towardhome. All the shutters in the front part of the house were closed andnot 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 shawlwas 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 stepped into the room, starting when he saw Wilford, who feltintuitively that something was wrong. 

"Is Katy sick?" was his first question, which Morris answered in theaffirmative, holding him back as he was starting for her room, andsaying to him: "Let me send your mother to you first. " What passedbetween Wilford and his mother was never known exactly, but at the closeof the interview Mrs. Cameron was very pale, while Wilford's face lookeddark and anxious, as he said: "You think he understands it, then?"

"Yes, in part. Of course he cannot make a very connected story out ofher ravings; but that he believes you had a wife before Katy, I am sure, just as I am that the world will be none the wiser for his knowledge. Iknew Dr. Grant before you did, and there are few men living whom Irespect as much, and no one whom I would trust as soon. "

Mrs. Cameron had paid a high compliment to Morris Grant, and Wilfordbowed in assent, asking next how she managed Dr. Craig. 

"That was easy, inasmuch as he believed it an insane freak of Katy's tohave no other physician than her cousin. It was quite natural, he said, adding that she was as safe with Dr. Grant as any one. So that issettled, and I was glad, for I could not have a stranger know of thataffair. If I thought it would save her life to retain him, I should feeldifferently, of course. "

"Yes, certainly, " Wilford rejoined, while at his heart there was thegerm of a feeling which, if in the slightest degree encouraged, wouldalmost have given Katy's life to save his darling self-love and honor inthe eyes of the world. 

Few men are as thoroughly selfish as Wilford Cameron, and though he wasvery much concerned for Katy, he thought more of preserving a secretwhich, if known at this late day, would subject him to much censure andreproach, than he did of her. So when his mother told him next thatHelen had been sent for, his morbid fears took alarm. 

"Why was it necessary to bring another here?" he asked, so indignantlythat tears sprang to his mother's eyes as she pleaded her own wearinessand inability to remain always in the sickroom, and charged him withingratitude for all she had done in his behalf. 

Wilford could not afford to quarrel with his mother, and he quieted heras soon as possible, admitting that if she must have an assistant hewould rather it were Helen than Bell or Juno, or even Esther, who, inspite of the alarm about malignant fever, would willingly haveadministered to her young mistress, had she been allowed to do so. 

"You will go up now, " Mrs. Cameron said to her son, when peace was fullyrestored, and a moment after Wilford stood in the dimly-lighted room, where Katy was talking of going to the hospitals, and of MarianHazelton, and was only kept upon her pillow by the strong arm of Morris, who stood over her when Wilford entered, telling her to "wait untilto-morrow--it would be better then, and she had not seen her husbandyet. "

"I have no husband, " she replied, her lip curling with scorn, and hereyes just then falling upon Wilford, who stood appalled at the fearfulchange which had passed over her since he left her three days before. 

She knew him, and writhing herself away from Morris' arms, she raised upin bed and said to him:

"I've been at the bottom of things, and Genevra is not in that grave atSt. Mary's. Nobody is there; consequently, she is living, and you arenot my husband. So if you please you can leave the house at once. Morriswill do very well. He will settle the estate, and no bill shall be sentin for your board and lodging. "

In some moods Wilford would have smiled at being thus summarilydismissed from his own house and assured that no bill should be sentafter him for board and lodging; but he was too sore now, too sensitiveto 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. "Gofind your first love, where bullets fall like hail, and where there ispain, and blood, and carnage. Genevra is there. "

She would not let Wilford come near her, and grew so excited by hispresence that he was forced either to leave the room or sit where shecould not see him. He chose the latter, and from his seat by the doorwatched with a half-jealous, half-angry heart, Morris Grant doing forhis wife what he should have done. 

With Morris Katy was gentle as a little child, talking still ofGenevra, but talking quietly, and in a way which did not wear her outas fast as her excitement did. 

"What God hath joined together let not man put asunder, " was the textfrom which she preached several short sermons as the night wore on, butjust as the morning dawned she fell into the first quiet sleep she hadhad during the last twenty-four hours. And while she slept Wilfordventured near enough to see the sunken cheeks and hollow eyes whichwrung a groan from him as he turned to Morris, asking what he supposedwas the immediate cause of her sudden illness?

"A terrible shock, the nature of which I understand, but you havenothing to fear from me, " Morris replied. "I accuse you to no man, butleave you to settle it with your conscience whether you did right todeceive her so long. "

Morris spoke as one having authority, and Wilford simply bowed his head, feeling then no resentment toward one who had ventured to reprove him. Afterward he might remember it differently, but now he was too anxiousto keep Morris there to quarrel with him, and so he made no reply, butsat watching Katy as she slept, wondering if she would die, and feelinghow terrible life would be without her. Suddenly Genevra's warning wordsrang 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 himat last? It might be, and with a groan Wilford hid his face in hishands, believing that he repented of his sin, and not knowing that hisfancied repentance arose merely from the fact that he had been detected. Could the last few days be blotted out, and Katy stand just where shedid, with no suspicion of him, he would have cast his remorse to thewinds, and as it is not such repentance God accepts, Wilford had onlybegun to sip the cup of retribution presented to his lips. 

Worn out with watching and waiting, Mrs. Cameron, who would sufferneither Juno nor Bell to come near the house, waited uneasily for thearrival of the New Haven train, which she hoped would bring Helen to heraid. Under ordinary circumstances she would rather not have met her, for her presence would keep the letter so constantly in her mind, butnow anybody who could be trusted was welcome, and when at last therecame a cautious ring she went herself to the hall, starting back withundisguised vexation when she saw the timid-looking woman followingclose behind Helen, and whom the latter presented as "My mother, Mrs. Lennox. "

Convinced that Morris' sudden journey to New York had something to dowith Katy's illness, and almost distracted with fears for her daughter'slife, Mrs. Lennox could not remain at home and wait for the tardy mailor careless telegraph. She must go to her child, and casting off herdread of Wilford's displeasure, she had come with Helen, and was bowingmeekly to Mrs. Cameron, who neither offered her hand nor gave any tokenof greeting except a distant bow and a simple "Good-morning, madam. "

But Mrs. Lennox was too timid, too bewildered, and too anxious to noticethe lady's haughty manner as she led them to the library and then wentfor her son. Wilford was not glad to see his mother-in-law, but he triedto be polite, answering her questions civilly, and when she asked if itwas 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 untilthe crisis is past, although he has just told me he must go backto-morrow, " Wilford said, mentally hoping Mrs. Lennox might think itbest to go with him, or if she did not, wondering how long she didintend to stay. It hurt his pride that she, whom he considered greatlyhis inferior, should learn his secret; but it could not now be helped, and within an hour after her arrival she was looking curiously at himfor 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, whenat last Helen left the room, and she was alone with him. 

"Yes, madam, " he replied, "some would call me so, though I was divorcedfrom my wife. As this was a matter which did not in any way concern yourdaughter, I deemed it best not to tell her. Latterly she has found itout, and it is having a very extraordinary effect upon her. "

Mrs. Lennox was too much afraid of the man addressing her so haughtilyto make him any reply, and so she only wept softly as she bent to kissher child, still talking of Genevra and the empty grave at St. Mary's, where she once sat down. 

And this was all Mrs. Lennox knew until alone with Helen, who had heardfrom Morris all he knew of the sad story except the part relating toMarian Hazelton. His sudden journey to New York was thus accounted for, and Helen explained it to her mother as well as she could, advising herto say nothing of it either to Wilford or Mrs. Cameron, as it was quiteas well for them not to know it yet. Many messages Helen brought to hercousin from his patients, and Morris felt it was his duty to go to themfor a day or so at least. 

"You have other physicians here, " he said to Wilford, who objected tohis leaving. "Dr. Craig will do as well as I. "

Wilford admitted that he might; but it was with a sinking heart that hesaw Morris depart, and then went to Katy, who began to grow veryrestless and uneasy, bidding him go away and send Dr. Morris back. Itwas in vain that they administered the medicine just as Morris haddirected. Katy grew constantly worse, until Mrs. Lennox asked thatanother doctor be called. But to this Wilford did not listen. Fear ofexposure and censure were stronger than his fear for Katy's life, whichseemed balancing upon a thread as that long night and the next day wentby. Three times Wilford telegraphed for Morris, and it was withunfeigned joy that he welcomed him back at last, and heard that he hadso arranged his business now as to stay with Katy while the dangerlasted. 

With a monotonous sameness the days now came and went, people stillshunning the house as if the plague was there. Once Bell Cameron camearound to call on Helen, holding her breath as she passed through thehall, 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 camein, seeming surprised when she met Helen and appearing so cool anddistant that the latter could scarcely keep back her tears as sheguessed the cause. Mark never came, but from the window Helen saw himriding by with Juno, who kept her face turned toward him, as if in closeand confidential chat. 

"They were engaged, " Esther said, adding that "he was about joining thearmy as first lieutenant in a company composed of the finest young menin the city. "

Helen doubted if this were true, until one day, when driving with hermother, she met him arrayed in his new uniform, looking so handsome andproud. He, too, was driving with a brother officer, and as he passed helifted his cap in token of recognition; but the olden look which Helenremembered so well, and which had been wont to make her pulses thrillwith a most exquisite delight, was gone, and Helen felt more than everthe wide gulf some hand had built between them. The next she heard wasfrom Mrs. Banker, whose face looked pale and worn as she incidentallyremarked: "I shall be very lonely now that Mark is gone. He left meto-day for Washington. "

There were tears on the mother's face, and her lip quivered as she triedto keep them back, looking from the window into the street instead of ather companion, who, overcome with the rush of feeling which swept overher, laid her face on the sofa arm and sobbed aloud. 

"Why, Helen! Miss Lennox, I am surprised! I had supposed--I was notaware--I did not think you would care, " Mrs. Banker exclaimed, comingcloser to Helen, who stammered out: "I beg you will excuse me, I cannothelp it. I care for all our soldiers. It seems so terrible. "

At the words "I care for all the soldiers, " a shadow of disappointmentflitted over Mrs. Banker's face. She knew her son had offered himselfand been refused, as she supposed, and she believed, too, that Helen hadgiven publicity to the affair, feeling justly indignant at this breachof confidence and lack of delicacy in one whom she had liked so much andwhom she still liked in spite of the wounded pride which had promptedher to seem so cold and distant. 

"Perhaps it is all a mistake, " she thought, as she continued standing byHelen, whose tears did not cease, "or it may be she has relented, " andfor 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 sothe golden moment fled, and when she left the house the misunderstandingbetween herself and Helen was just as wide as ever. Wearily after thatthe days passed with Helen until all thoughts of herself were forgottenin the terrible fear that death was really brooding over the pillowwhere Katy lay, insensible to all that was passing around her. The lipswere silent now, and Wilford had nothing to fear from the tonguehitherto so busy. Juno, Bell and Father Cameron all came to see her, dropping tears upon the face looking so old and worn with suffering, butyet so sweet and pure, and treading softly as they left the room andwent out into the sunshine where Katy might never go again. In thekitchen there was mourning, too; Phillips weeping for her mistress, while Esther, with her apron over her head, sobbed passionately, wishingshe, too, might die if Katy did. Mrs. Cameron also was very sorry, verysad, but managed to find some consolation in mentally arranging a grandfuneral, which would do honor to her son, and wondering if "thoseBarlows in Silverton would think they must attend. " And while she thusarranged, the mother who had given birth to Katy wrestled in earnestprayer that God would spare her child, or at least grant some space inwhich she might be told of the world to which she was hastening. WhatWilford suffered none could guess. His face was very white and hisexpression almost stern as he sat watching the young wife who had beenhis for little more than two brief years, and who but for his sin mightnot have been lying there unconscious of the love and grief around her. Like some marble statue Morris seemed as with lip compressed and browsfirmly knit together he, too, sat watching Katy, feeling for the pulseand bending his ear to catch the faintest breath which came from herparted lips, while in his heart there was an earnest prayer for thesafety 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 heknew it was far better for her to die in her young womanhood than tolive till the heart now so sad and bleeding had grown calloused withsorrow. And yet it was terrible to think of Katy dead; to know thatnever again would her little feet dance on the grass, or her bird-likevoice break the silence of his home; terrible to think of that face andform laid away beneath the turf of Greenwood, where those who loved herbest could seldom go to weep. 

And as they sat thus the night shadows stole into the room and the hourscrept 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 donot need you here, " he said, "your presence can do no good. Should achange occur you shall be told at once. "

Thus importuned Helen and her mother withdrew and only Morris andWilford remained to watch that heavy slumber so nearly resembling death. 

CHAPTER XL. 

MORRIS' CONFESSION. 

Gradually the noise in the streets died away; the tread of feet, therumbling wheels and the tinkle of the car bells ceased, and not a soundwas heard, save as the distant fire bells pealed forth their warningvoices, 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 herown mysterious notes and lullabies for her sleeping children. Slowly theminutes went by, and Morris became at last aware that Wilford's eyes, instead of resting on the pallid face which seemed to grow each momentmore pallid and ghastly, were fixed on him with an expression which madehim drop the pale hand he held between his own, pooring it occasionallyas a mother might poor and pity the hand of her dying baby. 

Before his marriage a jealous thought of Morris Grant had found alodgment in Wilford's breast; but remembering the past he had tried todrive it out, and fancied that he had succeeded, experiencing a suddenshock when he felt it lifting its green head, and poisoning his mindagainst the man doing for Katy only what a brother might do, or rather, against the motives which prompted this man's devotion. He forgot thatit was his own entreaties which had kept Morris there, refusing to lethim go even for a day to the other patients missing him so much, andcomplaining of his absence. Jealous men never reason clearly, and inthis case Wilford did not reason at all, but jumped readily at hisconclusion, calling to his aid as proof all that he had ever seen passbetween Katy and her cousin. That Morris Grant loved Katy was, after afew moment's reflection, as fixed a fact in his mind as that she laythere between them, her eyelids quivering, and her lips moaning feeblyas if about to speak. Years before, when Genevra was the wife, jealousyhad made Wilford almost a madman, and it now held him again in itspowerful grasp, whispering suggestions he would have spurned in a calmframe of mind. There was a clinching of his fist, a knitting of hisbrows, and a gathering blackness in his eyes as he listened while Katy, rousing partially from her lethargy, talked of the days when she was alittle girl, and Morris had built the playhouse for her by the brook, where the thorn apples grew and the waters fell over the smooth, whiterocks. 

"Take me back there, " she said, "and let me lie on the grass again. Itis so long since I was there, and I've suffered so much since then. Wilford meant to be kind, but he did not try to understand or know how Iloved the country with its birds and flowers and springing grass by thewell, where the shadows come and go. I used to wonder where they weregoing, and one day when I watched them I was waiting for Wilford, andwishing he would come. Would it have been better if he had never come?"

Wilford's body shook with strong emotion as he bent forward to hearKaty's answer to her question. 

"Were there no Genevra, " she said, "no verse 'what God hath joinedtogether let no man put asunder, ' I should not think so; but there issuch a verse, and now I don't know what I think, only I must go. Come, Morris, we will go together, you and I. "

She turned partly toward Morris, who made her no reply. He could not, with those fiery eyes fixed upon him, and he sat erect in his chair, while Katy talked of Silverton, and the days gone by until her voicegrew very faint, ceasing at last as she fell into a second sleep, heavier, more death-like, than the first. Something in her face alarmedMorris, and in spite of the eyes watching him he bent every energy toretain the feeble pulse, and the breath which grew shorter with eachrespiration. 

"Do you think her dying?" Wilford asked, and Morris replied: "Not yet;but the look about the mouth and nose is like the look which so oftenprecedes death. "

And that was all they said until another hour went by, when Morris' handwas laid upon the forehead and moved up under the golden hair wherethere were drops of perspiration. 

"She is saved, thank God, Mr. Cameron, Katy is saved, " was his joyfulexclamation, and burying his head in his hands, he wept for a momentlike a child, for Katy was restored again. 

On Wilford's face there was no trace of tears. On the contrary, heseemed hardening into stone, and in his heart fierce passions werecontending for the mastery, and urging him on to an act from which, inhis right mind, he would have shrunk. Rising slowly at last, he camearound to Morris' 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 theroom, starting Morris from his bowed attitude, and for an instantcurdling his blood in his veins, for he understood now the meaning ofthe look which had so puzzled him. In Morris' heart there was a moment'shesitancy to know just what to answer, an ejaculatory prayer forguidance, and then lifting up his head, his calm blue eyes met the eyesof black unflinchingly, as he replied:

"I have loved her always. "

A blaze like sheet lightning shot from beneath Wilford's eyelashes, anda taunting sneer curled his lip, as he said:

"You, a saint, confess to this?"

It was quite natural, and in keeping with human nature for Wilford tothrust Morris' religion in his face, forgetting that never on this sidethe eternal world can man cease wholly to sin, that so long as flesh andblood remain, there will be temptation, error and wrong, even amongGod's children. Morris felt the sneer keenly; but the consciousness ofpeace with his Maker sustained him in the shock and, with the same tonehe had at first assumed, he said:

"Should my being what you call a saint prevent my confessing what Idid?"

"No, not the confession, but the fact, " Wilford answered, savagely. "Howdo you reconcile your acknowledged love for Katy with the injunctions ofthe Bible whose doctrines you indorse?"

"A man cannot always control his feelings, but he can strive to overcomethem and put the temptation 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 onlyhave teen tempted, but have yielded to the temptation, " Wilfordretorted, with a sinister look of exultation in his black eyes. 

For a moment Morris was silent, while a struggle of some kind seemedgoing on in his mind, and then he said:

"I never thought to lay open to you a secret which, after myself, is, Ibelieve, known to only one living being. "

"And that one--is--you will not tell me that is Katy?" Wilfordexclaimed, his voice hoarse with passion, and his eyes flashing withfire. 

"No, not Katy. She has no suspicion of the pain which, since I saw hermade another's, has eaten into my heart, making me grow old so fast, andblighting my early manhood. "

Something in Morris' tone and manner inspired Wilford with awe, makinghim relax his grasp upon the arm, and sending him back to his chairwhile Morris continued:

"Most men would shrink from talking to a husband of the love they borehis wife, and an hour ago I should have shrunk from it, too, but youhave forced me to it, and now you must listen while I tell you of mylove for Katy. It began longer ago than she can remember--began when shewas my baby sister, and I hushed her in my arms to sleep, kneeling byher cradle and watching her with a feeling I have never been able todefine. She was in all my thoughts, her face upon the printed page ofevery book I studied, and her voice in every strain of music I everheard. Then, when she grew older, I used to watch the frolicsome childby the hour, building castles even then of the future, when she would bea woman and I a man, with a man's right to win her. I know that sheshielded me from many a snare into which young men are apt to fall, forwhen the temptation was greatest, and I was at its verge, a thought ofher was sufficient to lead me back to virtue. I carried her in my heartacross the sea, and said when I go back I will ask her to be mine. Iwent back, but at my first meeting with Katy after her return fromCanandaigua she told me of you, and I knew then that hope for me wasgone, praying for strength to bear my loss and hide my love from her. God grant that you nor she may never experience what I experienced onthat day which made her your wife, and I saw her go away. It seemedalmost as if God had forgotten me as the night after the bridal I satalone at home, and met that dark hour of sorrow. In the midst of itHelen came, discovering my secret, and sympathizing with me until thepain at my heart grew less, and I could pray that God would grant me afeeling for Katy which should not be sinful. And He did at last, so Icould think of her without a wish that she was mine. Times there werewhen the old love would burst forth with fearful power, and then Iwished that I might die. These were my moments of temptation which Istruggled to overcome. Sometimes a song, a strain of music, or a ray ofmoonlight on the floor would bring the past to me so vividly that Iwould stagger beneath the burden, feeling that it was greater than Icould bear. But God was very merciful and sent me work which took up allmy time, leaving little leisure for regrets, and driving me away from myown pain to soothe the pain of others. When Katy came to us last summerthere was an hour of trial, when faith in God grew weak, and I wastempted 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. Iwould have given my life to have saved that child for her, even thoughit was a bar between us, a something which separated her from me morethan the words she spoke at the altar. Though dead, that baby is stilla bar, and Katy is not the same to me she was before that little lifecame into being. It is not wrong to love her as I do now. I feel no pangof conscience save when something unexpected carries me back to the oldground where I have fought so many battles. "

Morris paused a moment, thinking of the time when Katy came to him withher story of Genevra, and wondering if it were best to repeat theincidents of that night. It was not, he finally concluded. It would bebetter for Katy to tell it herself, and so he added at last: "What Ihave borne has told upon me terribly. My people say I work too hard, butthey look only on the surface--they have never seen that inner chamberof my heart, where only you have been fully admitted. Even Helen knowsnot half what's there, but I felt that it was due to you, and so havetold you all, asking that no shadow of censure shall fall on Katy, whowould be greatly shocked to know what you know now. "

Morris' manner was that of a man who spoke with perfect sincerity, andit carried conviction to Wilford's heart, disarming him for a time ofthe fierce anger and resentment he had felt while listening to Morris'story. Acting upon the good impulse of the moment, he arose, andoffering his hand to Morris, he said:

"You have done nobly, Dr. Grant, I believe in your religion now. Forgiveme that I ever doubted it. I exonerate you from blame. "

And thus they pledged their faith, Wilford meaning then all he said, andfeeling only respect for the man who had confessed his love for Katy. After what had passed, Morris felt that it would be pleasanter forWilford if he were gone, and after a time he suggested returning toSilverton at once, inasmuch as the crisis was past and Katy out ofdanger. There was a struggle in Wilford's mind as to the answer heshould make to this suggestion. It would not be pleasant to see Morristhere now, for though he had said he forgave him, there was a feeling ofdisquiet at his heart, and he at last signified his willingness for himto leave when he thought best. 

It was broad day when Katy awoke, so weak as to be unable to turn herhead upon the pillow, but in her eyes the light of reason was shining, and she glanced wonderingly, first at Helen, at her mother, and then atWilford, as if trying to comprehend what had happened. 

"Have I been sick?" she asked in a whisper, and Wilford, bending overher, replied: "Yes, darling, very sick for nearly two whole weeks--eversince I left home that morning, you know. "

"Yes, " and Katy shivered a little. "Yes, I know. But where is Morris? Hewas 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 hewatched them, while Morris spoke to Katy, telling her she was better, but must keep very quiet, and not allow herself in any way to beexcited. 

"Have I been crazy? Have I talked much?" she asked, and when Morrisreplied in the affirmative there came a startled look into her eye, asshe said: "Of what or whom have I talked most?"

"Of Genevra, " was the answer, and Katy continued: "Did I mention no oneelse?"

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, whileMorris made his preparations for leaving. It hardly seemed right for himto go just then, but the only one who could have kept him maintained afrigid silence with regard to a longer stay, and so the first trainwhich left New York for Springfield carried Dr. Grant, and Katy waswithout a physician. 

Wilford had hoped that Mrs. Lennox, too, would see the propriety ofaccompanying Morris; but she would not leave Katy, and Wilford was fainto submit to what he could not help. No explanation whatever had hegiven to Mrs. Lennox or Helen with regard to Genevra. He was too proudfor that, but his mother had deemed it wise to smooth the matter over asmuch as possible, enjoining upon them both the necessity of secrecy. 

"When I tell you that neither my husband or daughters know it, you willunderstand that I am greatly in earnest in wishing it kept, " she said. "It was a most unfortunate affair, and though the divorce is, ofcourse, to be lamented, it is better that she died. We never could havereceived 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; butit makes trouble always where there is a great inequality between ahusband's family and that of his wife. "

Poor Mrs. Lennox understood this perfectly, but she was too much afraidof the great lady to venture a reply, and a tear rolled down her burningcheek as she wet the napkin for Katy's head, wishing that she had backagain the daughter, whose family she knew the Camerons despised. Theatmosphere of Madison Square did not suit Mrs. Lennox, especially when, as the days went by and Katy began to mend, troops of gay ladies called, mistaking her for the nurse, and all staring a little curiously whentold that she was Mrs. Cameron's mother. Of course, Wilford chafed andfretted at what he could not help, seldom addressing his mother-in-lawon any subject, and making himself so generally disagreeable that Helenat last suggested returning home, inasmuch as Katy was so much better. There was then a faint remonstrance on his part, but Helen did not waverin her decision, though she pitied Katy, who, when the day of herdeparture came and they were for a few moments alone, took her handbetween her own and kissing it fondly, said: "You don't know how I dreadyour going or how wretched I shall be without you. Everything which oncemade me happy has been removed or changed. Baby is dead, andWilford--oh, Helen, I sometimes wish I had not heard of Genevra, for Iam afraid it can never be with us as it was once; that is, I have notquite the same trust in him, and he seems so changed. Have you noticedhow silent and moody he has grown?"

Helen had noticed it, but she would not say so, and she tried to comforther sister, telling her she would be very happy yet; "but, Katydarling, " she continued, "you have a duty to perform as well as Wilford. Your heart is very sore now because of the deception, but you must notlet that soreness appear in your manner. You must be to Wilford justwhat you always were, unless you wish to wean him from you. He, too, hashad a terrible shock; his pride and self-love have been wounded, and menlike him do not like being humbled as he has been. You must soothe him, Katy, and smooth his ruffled feathers, proving to him that you can anddo forgive the past. And, Katy, remember you have a Friend always nearto whom you can carry your burdens, sure that He will listen and healthe smarting pain. Go to Him often and make Him yours indeed. He hascome very near to you within the last year, and such visitations have ameaning in them. Listen, then, lest He should come again and visit youwith greater sufferings. "

"Purified by Suffering. " The words came floating back to Katy, just asUncle Ephraim had spoken them in the pleasant meadowland, and just asthey had sometimes haunted her since, but never having so deep a meaningas now, when Helen's words suggested them again. She was suffering, oh, so terribly, but was she purifying, too? She feared not, and after thesad parting with her mother and sister was over she turned her face toher pillow, trying so hard to pray that God would make her His own, andby the suffering He sent purify her for heaven. 

CHAPTER XLI. 

DOMESTIC TROUBLES. 

From the bathroom, which adjoined Katy's sickroom, Wilford had heard allthat passed between the sisters, and his face grew dark as he thought ofhaving his "ruffled feathers smoothed" even by the little thin whitehand, which, the first time it had a chance laid itself upon his facewith a caressing motion, from which he involuntarily drew back, thinkingthe affection thus timidly expressed was all put on with a view to beinggood, as he termed it. 

Wilford was in a most unhappy frame of mind. He was not pleased thatKaty had heard of Genevra, and imparted his secret to others. He did notlike being humbled as he had been, even Mrs. Lennox taking it uponherself to lecture him for his misdemeanors, sobbing as she lectured, and asking "how he could treat Katy so?" He did not like, either, tolose Helen's good opinion, as he was sure he had, while, worse than allthe rest, was the galling fact that Morris Grant loved his wife, and wasundoubtedly more worthy of her than himself. He had said that he forgaveMorris, and at the time he said it he fancied he did, but as the dayswent by, and thought was all the busier from the moody silence hemaintained, there gradually came to life a feeling of dislike, if not ofhatred, for the man, whose name he could not hear without a frown, telling Katy very sharply once that he wished she would not talk so muchof Cousin Morris, as if there were no other physician in the world! Dr. Craig would have done quite as well, and for his part he wished they hademployed him. 

Wilford knew he did not mean what he said, but he was in a veryunamiable frame of mind, and watched Katy close, to detect, if possible, some sign by which he should know that Morris' love was reciprocated. But Katy was innocence itself, and as the weeks of convalescence went byshe tried so hard to do her duty as a wife, going often to the Friend ofwhom Helen had told her, and finding there the grace which helped herbear what otherwise she could not have borne and lived. The entirehistory of her life during that wretched winter was never told save asit was written on her face, which was a volume in itself of meek andpatient suffering. 

Wilford had never mentioned Genevra to her since the day of his return, and Katy sometimes felt that it would be well to talk that matter over. It might lead to a more perfect understanding than existed between themnow, and dissipate the cloud which hung so darkly on their domestichorizon. But Wilford repulsed all her advances upon that subject, andGenevra was a dead name in their household, save as it was on Katy'slips when she prayed, asking that she might feel only perfect kindnesstoward the Genevra who had so darkened her life. 

Wilford's home was not pleasant to him now, but the fault was withhimself. Katy did well her part, meeting him always with a smile, andtrying to win him from the dark mood she could not fathom. Times therewere when for an entire day he would appear like his former self, caressing her with unwonted tenderness, calling her his "poor crusheddove, " but never asking her forgiveness for all he had made her endure. He was too proud to do that now, and his tenderness always passed awaywhen he remembered Morris Grant and Katy's remark to Helen: "I am afraidit can never be with us as it was once. I have not the same trust inhim. "

"She had no right to complain of me to Helen, " he thought, forgettingthe time when he had been guilty of a similar offense in a moreaggravated form. 

He could not reason upon anything naturally, and matters grew dailyworse, while Katy's face grew whiter and her voice sadder in its tone. 

Sometimes Wilford would spend the entire evening away from home, tarrying till the clock struck twelve before he came, and Katy wouldafterward hear that he had been at the house of some friend, or withSybil Grandon, whose influence over him increased in proportion as herown was lessened. 

When the Lenten days came on, oh, how Katy longed to be in Silverton, tokneel again in its quiet church, and offer up her penitential prayerswith the loved ones at home. At last she ventured to ask Wilford if shemight 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 theirexpression brought to her face the blush which he construed according tohis 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?" and Wilford replied:

"Dr. Grant, of course. Did you never suspect it?"

"Never, " and Katy's face grew very white, as she asked how Wilford knewwhat he had asserted. 

"I had it from his own lips; he sitting on one side of you and I uponthe other. I so far forgot myself as to charge him with loving you, andhe did not deny it, but confessed as pretty a piece of romance as I everread, 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 rememberingsuddenly many things which confirmed what she had heard. 

"Poor Morris, how my thoughtlessness must have wounded him, " shemurmured, and then all the pent up passion in Wilford's heart burst outin an impetuous storm. 

He did not charge his wife directly with returning Morris' love, but hesaid he was sorry she had not known it earlier; asking her pointedly ifit were not so, and pressing her for an answer until the bewilderedcreature 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 tonemaking Katy shiver, as more to herself than him she said:

"A life at Linwood would be perfect rest, compared to this. "

Wilford had wrung from her all he cared to know, and believing himselfthe most injured man in existence, he left the house, and Katy heard hisstep as it went furiously down the walk. For a time she seemed stunnedwith what she had heard, and then there came stealing into her heart aglad feeling that Morris deemed her worthy of his love when she had sooften feared the contrary. It was not a wicked emotion, nor onefaithless to Wilford. She could pray with just as pure a heart asbefore, and she did pray, thanking God for the love of this good man, and asking that long ere this he might have learned to be contentwithout her. Never once did the thought "It might have been, " intrudeitself upon her, nor did she picture to herself the life which she hadmissed. She seemed to rise above all that, and Wilford, had he read herheart, would have found no evil there. 

"Poor Morris, " she kept repeating, while little throbs of pleasure wentdancing through her veins, and the world was not one-half so dreary forknowing he had loved her. Toward Wilford, too, her heart went out in afresh gush of tenderness, for she knew how one of his jealous naturemust have suffered. 

"I'll drive down to the office for him this afternoon, " she said. "Thatwill surely please him; and to prove still further that I never dreamedof Morris' love, I'll tell him coming home how in the great sorrow aboutGenevra I went to him for counsel, and how he sent, or rather, broughtme back. "

But this confession would necessitate her telling that Genevra was notdead, and it was better for them both, she thought, that he should notknow this until the relations between herself and him were more as theyused to be; so she decided finally to withhold the fact for a time atleast. But she would go for him, as she had at first intended, and shecounted the hours impatiently, thinking once her watch had stopped, andseeming brighter and happier than she had been since her illness, whenat last she stepped into her carriage, and was driven down Broadway. 

Business had gone wrong with Wilford that day, and Tom Tubbs hadmentally pronounced his master "crosser than a bear, " and sighingsecretly for the always cheerful Mark, he had taken up his book, and wasquietly reading by the office window when Katy came in, her white faceseeming whiter from contrast with her black dress, and her eyes lookingunnaturally large and bright as she darted across the room to Wilford, who, surprised to see her there, and a good deal displeased withal, inasmuch as he had often said that the office was no place for his wife, never smiled or spoke, but with pent up brows waited for her to open theconversation. Katy saw she was not welcome, and with a tremulous voiceshe began:

"The day is so fine I thought I would come in the carriage for you. Itis early yet, and if you like, we can have a little drive. It might doyou good. You look tired, " she continued, and unmindful of Tom, tryingto smooth his hair. 

With an impatient gesture, Wilford drew his hand away from the palefingers which sought their fellows in a nervous clasp as Katy tried notto think Wilford cross, even after he replied:

"You need not have come for me, as I always prefer a stage; besidesthat, I can't go home just yet, I am not ready. "

Katy stood a moment in silence, a flush on her cheek and a pallor abouther lips, which Tom Tubbs saw, secretly shaking his fist and thinkinghow he would like to knock down the man who could speak so to a wife asbeautiful and sweet as Katy seemed. 

"I have not been here before since my illness, and I wanted to come oncemore, " she said at last, apologetically, while Wilford, still lookingover papers, replied: "A sweet place to come to. I sometimes hate itmyself. By the way, I have something to tell you, " and his face began tobrighten. "Mrs. Mills, from Yonkers, was in town to-day, and as she hadnot time to see you, she found me and insisted upon your keeping thepromise you made last summer of spending some days with her. TheBeverleys are there and the Lincolns--quite a nice party--so I venturedto say that you should go out to-morrow and I would come out Saturdayafternoon to spend Sunday. "

"Oh, Wilford, I can't, " and Katy's lip began to quiver at the verythought of meeting people like the Beverleys and Lincolns in her presentstate of mind. 

"You can't! Why not?" Wilford asked, and Katy replied: "I've never beenin so much company as I shall meet there since baby died, and then--didyou forget that it was Lent?"

"You are getting very good to think a few days' visit in the countrywill harm you, " Wilford replied; "besides that, neither Mrs. Mills, northe Beverleys, nor Lincolns, are church people, and cannot, of course, sympathize in this superstitious fancy. "

Katy looked up in astonishment, for never before had she heard Wilfordspeak thus of the Fast which his whole family honored. But Wilford wasgrowing hard, and with a sigh Katy turned away, knowing how useless itwas to reason with him then. Driving home alone, she gave vent to apassionate flood of tears as she wondered how it all would end. For somereason Wilford had set his heart upon the visit to Mrs. Mills, apleasant, fascinating woman, who liked Katy very much and hadanticipated the promised visit with a great deal of pleasure, making allher plans with a direct reference to Mrs. Cameron, whose absence wouldhave been a great disappointment. Wilford knew this and resolved thatKaty should go, and as opposition to his will was always useless, theclose of the next day found Katy at Mrs. Mills' handsome dwellingoverlooking the broad river and the blue mountains beyond. Wilford waswith her; he had come out to spend the night, returning to the city inthe morning. Now that he had accomplished his purpose he was in the bestof spirits, treating Katy with unwonted kindness and wondering why hehated so to leave her, while she, too, clung to him, wishing he couldstay. Their parting was only for two days, for this was Thursday, and hewas to return on Saturday, but in the hearts of both there was that darkforeboding which is so often a sure precursor of evil. Twice Wilfordturned back to kiss his wife, feeling tempted once to tell her he wassorry for his jealousy and distrust, but such confession was hard forhim and so he left it unsaid, looking back to the window against whichKaty's face was pressed as she watched him going from her, but littleguessing what would be ere she looked on him again. 

 * * * * *

Tom Tubbs sat reading Chitty as usual when Mr. Cameron came in from histrip up the river. Since Katy's last call at the office Tom had beenhaunted with her face as it looked when Wilford's cold greeting fell onher ear, and after a private conference with Mattie, who listenedeagerly to every item of information with regard to Katy, he had come tothe conclusion that his employer was a brute, and that his wife was notas happy as it was his duty to make her. 

"It's mean in him to speak so hateful to her, " he was thinking just asWilford came in, appearing so very amiable and good-humored that the boyventured to inquire for Mrs. Cameron. "She looked so pale and sick, theother day, " he said, "almost as bad in fact as she did that night in thecars with Dr. Grant, just before she was so dangerously ill. "

"What's that? What did you say?" Wilford asked quickly, and Tom, thinking he had not been understood, repeated his words, while in avoice which Tom scarcely knew, it was so low and husky, Wilford asked:"What night was Mrs. Cameron in the cars with Dr. Grant? When was it, and where?"

As suspicion is an intense magnifier, so the absence of it will blindone completely, and Tom was thus blindfolded as he stated in detail howtwo months or more ago, while Mr. Cameron was absent, he had been sentby Mr. Ray to Hartford, returning in the early train, that just beforehim, in the car, a gentleman sat with a lady who seemed to be sick, atall events her head lay on his shoulder and he occasionally bent overher to see if she wanted anything. 

"I did not mind much about them, " Tom said, "till it got to broaddaylight, when I saw the man was Dr. Grant, and when we reached New Yorkthe lady threw back her veil and I saw it was Mrs. Cameron. "

"Are you sure?" and Wilford grasped Tom's arm with an energy which madethe boy wince, while there came over him a suspicion that he had talkedtoo much. 

But it could not now be helped, and to Wilford's question he answered:

"Yes, for she bowed to me and smiled. "

"Where did they go?" was the next question, put in thunder tones, forWilford was remembering things Katy said in her delirium, and which werenow explained, if Tom's statement was true. 

"They went off in a carriage toward your house, and that night I heardshe was sick, " Tom said, going back to his book, while Wilford seizedhis hat and started up Broadway. It was not his intention when he leftthe office to question the servants with regard to his wife, for everyfeeling and principle of his nature shrank from such an act, but by thetime his home could be reached it could scarcely be said that he was inhis right mind, and meeting Phillips in the hall, he demanded of her "ifshe remembered the day when Mrs. Cameron was first taken ill. "

Yes. Phillips remembered how sick Esther said she looked when she camehome from his father's, where she spent the night. 

"Oh, yes; she stayed at my father's then. It was very proper sheshould, " Wilford replied, recollecting himself, and trying to appearnatural, so that Phillips would not suspect him of any special purposein questioning her. 

If Katy spent the night at his father's then Tom's statement was nottrue, and dismissing Phillips he hastened to his mother, to whom he putthe question:

"Did Katy stay here a night while I was gone, the night but one afterthat dinner when she heard of Genevra, I mean?"

"Why, no, " Mrs. Cameron replied, in some surprise. "Katy has not stayedhere since last October, just after she came from Silverton, and youwere in Detroit. Why do you ask? What is the matter? What do you fear?"

Wilford would not tell his mother what he feared, but waived herquestion by bidding her repeat what she could remember of the day whenshe was first summoned to Katy, and to tell him also who was there. 

"Dr. Grant was there, and Dr. Craig, " she said. "The former, as Iunderstood from Esther, had just come to the city and called on Katy, finding her so ill that he sent for me immediately. "

"And you do not know that Katy was away from home at all?" was Wilford'snext inquiry, to which his mother replied:

"Esther spoke of her looking very sick when she came in, from which Iinferred she had been driving or shopping, but she was not here, sure. "

Esther, it would seem, was the only one who could throw light upon themystery, and as by this time the jealous man did not care whom hequestioned, he left his mother without a word of explanation, andhurried home, where he found Esther, and in a voice which made hertremble, bade her answer his questions truthfully, without the slightestattempt at evasion. 

"Yes, sir, " Esther replied, and Wilford continued:

"Where was your mistress the night before Dr. Grant came here, and shewas so very sick?"

"I don't know, sir. I had the impression that she at your mother's. Wasn't she there?" and Esther looked very innocent, while Wilfordreplied:

"It is your business to answer questions, not to ask them. Tell me thenthe particulars of her going away, and what she said. "

As nearly as she could remember Esther repeated what had passed betweenherself and Katy that morning, but her manner was such as to convinceWilford she was keeping back something, and in a paroxysm of excitementhe seized her arm, exclaiming:

"You know more than you admit. Tell me then the truth. Who came homewith Mrs. Cameron, and when?"

Esther was afraid of Wilford, and at last between tears and sobsconfessed that Mrs. Wilford said she had been out of town, but asked hernot to tell, that she guessed it was Silverton where she had been, andalso that when she opened the door to her, Dr. Morris was going down thesteps; "not in a hurry--not like making off as if there was somethingwrong, " she added, in her eagerness to exonerate her mistress. 

"Who hinted there was anything wrong?" Wilford exclaimed, in tones whichmade poor Esther tremble, for now that he had heard all he cared tohear, he began to be ashamed of having gained his information in the wayhe had. 

"Nobody hinted, " Esther sobbed, with her face hidden in her apron; "andif they did it's false. There never was a truer, sweeter lady. "

"See that you stick to that whatever may occur, and, mind you, let therebe no repeating this conversation in the kitchen or elsewhere, " Wilfordhurled at her savagely, going next to a telegraph office, and sendingover the wires the following:

"NEW YORK, March --, 1862. 

"To MR. EPHRAIM BARLOW, Silverton, Mass. 

"Has Mrs. Wilford Cameron been in Silverton since last September?W. CAMERON. "

To this he was prompted by Esther's having suggested Silverton, as theplace where her mistress had possibly been, and taking warning by hispast experience with Genevra, he resolved to give Katy the benefit ofevery doubt, to investigate closely, before taking the decisive step, which even while Tom Tubbs was talking to him had flashed into his mind. Perhaps Katy had been to Silverton in her excited state, and if so thecase was not so bad, though he blamed her much for concealing it fromhim. At first he thought of telegraphing to Morris, but pride kept himfrom that, and Uncle Ephraim was made the recipient of the telegram, which startled him greatly, being the first of the kind sent directly tohim. 

As it chanced the deacon was in town that day, and at the store justacross the street from the telegraph office. This the agent knew by oldWhitey, who was standing meekly at the hitching-post, covered with hisblanket, a faded woolen bedspread, which years before Aunt Betsy hadspun and woven herself. 

"A letter for me!" Uncle Ephraim said, when the message was put into hishands. "Who writ it?" and he turned it to the light trying to recognizethe handwriting. 

"I think it wants an answer, " the boy said, as Uncle Ephraim thrust itinto his pocket, and taking up his molasses jug and codfish started forthe door. 

"May be it does. I'll look again, " and depositing his fish and jugsafely under the wagon box, the old man adjusted his spectacles, andwith the aid of the boy deciphered the dispatch. 

"What does it mean?" he asked, but the boy volunteered no ideas, and thesimple-hearted deacon asked next: "What shall I tell him?"

"Why, tell him whether she has been here or not since last September. Write on the envelope what you want sent, so I can take it back; andcome, hurry up your cakes, I can't wait all day, " and young America, having thus asserted its superiority over old, began to kick the meltingsnow, while Uncle Ephraim, greatly bewildered and perplexed, benthimself to the tremendous task of writing the four words:

"Not to my knowledge. " To this he appended: "Yours, with regret, EphraimBarlow, " and handing it to the waiting boy, unhitched old Whitey, andstepping into his wagon, drove home as rapidly as the half-frozen Marchmud would allow. 

"I wonder what he sent me that word for?" he kept repeating to himself. "We had a letter from Katy yesterday, and there can't be nothing wrong. I won't tell the folks yet a while anyway till I see what comes of it, Lucy is so fidgety. "

It was this resolution, whether wise or unwise, which kept from Morrisand the deacon's family a knowledge of the telegram, the answer to whichwas read by Wilford within half an hour after the deacon's arrival home. 

"She has not been to Silverton, " Wilford said. "The case then is veryclear. "

Indeed, it had been growing clear to the suspicious man ever since TomTubbs' unfortunate remark. There are no glasses as perfect as thosewhich jealousy wears, no magnifying lens as powerful, and Wilford was"fully convinced. " Had he been asked of what he was convinced he couldhardly have told unless it were that in some way he had been deceived, that Morris had spoken falsely when he said his love for Katy was notreturned or even suspected, that Katy had acted the hypocrite, and thatboth had been guilty of a great indiscretion, at least, by being seen asthey were in the New Haven train, and then keeping the occurrences ofthat night a secret from him. Wilford did not believe Katy had fallen, but she had surely stepped upon forbidden ground, and it was not in hisnature to forgive the error--at least, not then, when he was so sorewith past remembrances which had come so fast upon him. First, thebaby's death, just when he was learning to love it so much, then theGenevra affair about which Katy had acted so foolishly, then the talkwith Dr. Grant, and then his last offense, so much worse than all therest. 

It was a sad catalogue of grievances, and Wilford made it sadder bybrooding over and magnifying it until he reached a point from which hewould not swerve. 

"I shall do it, " he said, and his lips were pressed firmly together, asbefore his lonely fire he sat that chill March night, revolving the pastand then turning to the future opening so darkly before him, and makinghim shudder as he thought of what it might bring. "I will spare Katy asmuch as possible, " he said, "for hers is a different nature fromGenevra's. She cannot bear as well, " and a bitter groan broke thesilence of the room as Katy came up before him just as she had lookedthat very morning standing by the window, with tears in her eyes, and awistful, sorry look on her white face. 

Could she be false to him and wear that look? The question staggeredWilford for a moment, but when he remembered the proof, he steeled hisheart against her and prepared to act. 

CHAPTER XLII. 

DISAPPEARED. 

All the next day Wilford was very busy arranging his affairs, and acasual looker-on would have seen nothing unusual in the face always sograve and cold. But to Tom Tubbs, casting furtive glances over his bookand wondering at his employer's sudden activity, it was terrible in itsdark, hard, unrelenting expression, while even his mother, upon whom hecalled that evening, looked at him anxiously, asking what was thematter, but not mentioning the conversation held with her the previousday respecting Katy. 

She was still at Yonkers, Wilford said, and his voice was very naturalas he added: "I am expected to go out there to-morrow night withBeverley and Lincoln, whose wives are also at Mrs. Mills'; quite a gayparty we shall make, " and he tried to smile, but it was a sickly effortand made his face look still more ghastly and strange. 

"What ails you, Wilford?" his mother asked, but he answered pettishly:"Nothing, so pray don't look at me so curiously as if I was hiding someterrible secret. "

He was hiding a secret, and it almost betrayed itself, when at last hesaid good-by to his mother, who followed him to the door and stoodlooking after him in the darkness until the sound of his footsteps diedaway upon the pavement. There was a fire in his room and Wilford satdown to write the brief note he would leave, for when the night shutdown again he would not be there. He could not feel that the partingfrom Katy would be final, because he did not believe she had sinned ashe counted sin, but she certainly preferred another to himself; she haddeceived him and played the successful hypocrite. This was Wilford'saccusation against his wife; this for what she must be punished, untilsuch time as his royal clemency saw fit to forgive and take her back ashe meant to. He had no fear of her going to Morris, or to the farmhouseeither, for much as she was attached to her family, he believed shewould shrink from a return to poverty, choosing rather the luxuries ofher city home. And he would put no impediment in the way of her stayingthere as long as she liked; he would arrange that for her, feelinghimself very magnanimous as he thought of giving her permission toinvite her mother to New York as a kind of protection against scandalousremarks. Mrs. Lennox and Helen too should come. That certainly wasgenerous, and lest his goodness should abate he seized his pen andwrote:

"DEAR KATY: Your own conscience will tell you whether you are worthy ofbeing addressed as 'Dear, ' but I have called you thus so often that Icannot bring myself to any other form. Do my words startle you, and willyou be sorry when you read this and find that I am gone, that you arefree from the husband you do not love, the husband whom perhaps younever loved, though I thought you did? I trusted you once, and now I donot blame you as much as I ought, for you are young. You are easilyinfluenced. You are very susceptible to flattery, as was proven by yourcareer at Saratoga and Newport. I had no suspicion of you then, but nowthat I know you better, I see that it was not all childish simplicitywhich made you smile so graciously upon those who sought your favor. Youare a coquette, Katy, and the greater one because of that semblance ofartlessness which is the perfection of art. This, however, I mightforgive, were it not for one flagrant act, which, if it is not a proofof faithlessness, certainly borders upon it. You know to what I refer, or if you do not, ask your smooth-tongued saint, your companion in theNew Haven train; he will enlighten you; he will not wonder at my going, and perhaps he will offer you comfort, both religious and otherwise; butif you ever wish me to return, avoid him as you would shun a deadlypoison. Until I countermand the order I wish you to remain here in thishouse, which I bought for you. Helen and your mother both may live withyou, while father will have a general oversight of your affairs; I shallsend him a line to that effect. And now, good-by. I am very calm as Iwrite this, because I know you have deceived me. Not as I did you withregard to Genevra, but in a deeper sense, which touches a tenderer pointand makes me willing to brave the talk my sudden departure will create. No one knows I am going, no one will know until you have waited andlooked in vain for me with the gay young men who to-morrow night-willjoin their wives as I hoped yesterday morning to join mine. But that isover now. I cannot come to you. I am going away, where--it matters notto you. So farewell. 

"Your deceived and disappointed husband. "

Had Wilford read this letter over, he might not have left it, but he didnot read it, and in recalling its contents he gave himself great creditfor his forbearance when speaking of Morris, whom he hated so cordially. Sealing the letter, and laying it in Katy's drawer just above where shehad left his, he tried to sleep; but the morning found him haggard andtired, and Esther, as she poured his coffee, asked if he was sick. 

"No, " he answered, and then as he pushed back his chair, he said: "Ishall not be home again to-day, as Mrs. Cameron expects me to spendSunday at Yonkers. "

And so all that day and the next, the doors were locked, the shuttersclosed, the curtains dropped, while an ominous silence reignedthroughout the house; but when Monday came, and was halfway gone therewere inquiries made for Mr. Cameron by young Beverley and Lincoln, whosefaces looked anxious and disturbed at Esther's answer:

"He went to Yonkers, Saturday. I have not seen him since. "

 * * * * *

Out at Yonkers on Saturday night, three young wives had waited for theirhusbands, and none more eagerly than Katy, who, fair as a lily, in herdark dress, with her soft hair curling about her face, sat by the windowwatching for the carriage from the station, hers the first ear to catchthe sound of wheels, and here the first form upon the piazza. 

"Where's Wilford?" she asked, as only two alighted, and neither of themher husband. 

But no one could answer that question. The gentlemen had looked for himat Chambers Street, expecting him every moment to join them. Perhaps hewas detained, he might come yet at twelve, they said, trying to comfortKaty, who, with a sad foreboding, went back into the parlor, and triedto join in the laugh and jest which seemed almost like mockery. Something had happened to Wilford she was sure when the night train didnot bring him; and all the next day, while the Sunday bells pealed theirmusic in her ears, and the sounds of thoughtless mirth came up from theroom below, where the elaborate dinner was in progress, she lay upon herpillow, her head almost bursting with pain, and her heart aching sosadly as she tried to pray that no harm had befallen her husband. Shenever dreamed of his desertion, even when about noon of the next day atelegram came from Father Cameron, bidding her hasten to the city. Wilford was sick or dead, probably the latter, was the feeling uppermostin her mind, as she was borne rapidly to New York, where Mr. Cameron mether, his face confirming her fears, but not preparing her for the greatshock awaiting her. 

"Wilford is not dead, " he said, when at last she was in the carriage. "It is worse than that, I fear. We have traced him to the Philadelphiatrain, which he took on Saturday. His manner all that day and theprevious one was very strange, while from some words he dropped my wifeis led to suppose there was trouble between you two. Was there?" andFather Cameron's gray eyes rested earnestly on the white, frightenedface which looked up so quickly as Katy gasped:

"No, oh, no; he never was kinder to me than when we parted last Fridaymorning at Mrs. Mills'. There is some mistake. He would not leave me, though he has not been quite the same since--"

Katy was interrupted by the carriage stopping before her home; but whenthey had been admitted to the parlor where a fire was lighted, FatherCameron 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, kicking at thehearth rug, while Katy, without considering that he had never heard ofGenevra, 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 areyou 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, shetold the story of Genevra Lambert to the old man, who, utterlyconfounded, stalked up and down the room, kicking away chairs andfootstools, and whatever came in his way, and swearing promiscuously athis wife and Wilford, whom he pronounced a precious pair of fools, witha dreadful adjective appended to the fools, and an emphasis in his voicewhich showed he meant what he said. 

"It's all accounted for now, " he said, "the piles of money that boy hadabroad, his privacy with his mother, and all the other tomfoolery Icould not understand. Katy, " and pausing in his walk, Mr. Cameron cameclose 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 cursejust 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 littlefast, it's true; but when he died over the sea, I forgave all that, forgetting the chair he broke over a tutor's head, and the scrapes forwhich 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 wentto heaven. Juno you know, and you can judge whether she is such as woulddelight a parent's heart; while Wilford, my only boy, to deceive me so;though I knew he was a fool in some things, I did trust Wilford. "

The old man's voice shook now, and Katy felt his tears dropping on herhair as he stooped down 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 sheanswered:

"There was--but please don't ask me now. I can't tell, only I was not toblame. Believe me, father, I was not to blame. "

"I'll swear to that, " was the reply, as Father Cameron commenced hiswalking again. "He may have left some word, some line, " he said. "Suppose you look. It would probably be upstairs. "

Katy had not thought of this, but it seemed reasonable that it should beso, and going to her room, followed by Father Cameron, she went, as bysome instinct, to the very drawer where the letter lay. 

There was perfect silence while she read it through, Mr. Cameron nevertaking his eyes from the face which turned first white, then red, thenspotted, 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 toherself:

"Deserted!"

She let him read the letter, and when he had finished explained theparts he did not understand, telling him now what Morris had confessed, telling him too that in her first sorrow, when life and sense seemedreeling, she had gone to Dr. Grant, who had brought her back, as abrother might have done, and this was the result. 

"Why did you say you went to him--that is, what was the special reason?"Mr. Cameron asked, and after a moment's hesitancy, Katy told him herbelief that Genevra was living--that it was she who made the bridaltrousseau for Wilford's second wife, who nursed his child until it died, giving to it her own name, arraying it for the grave, and then leaving, as she always did, before the father came. 

"I never told Wilford, " Katy said. "I felt as if I would rather heshould not know it yet. Perhaps I was wrong, but if so, I have beenterribly punished. "

Mr. Cameron could not look upon the woman who stood before him, sohelpless and stricken in her desolation, and believe her wrong inanything. The guilt lay in another direction, and when as the terriblereality that she was indeed a deserted wife came rushing over Katy, shetottered toward him for help, he stretched his arms out for her, andtaking the sinking figure in them, laid it upon the sofa as gently, askindly 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 waslike a piece of marble, and her eyes were like those of the hunted fawnwhen the chase is at its height and escape impossible. 

"Wilford would come back if he knew just how it was, " the father said, "but the trouble is where to find him. He speaks of writing to me, as Ipresume he will in a day or so, and perhaps it will be as well to waittill then. What the plague--who is ringing that bell enough to break thewire?" he added, as a sharp, rapid ring echoed through the house and wasanswered by Esther. "It's my wife, " he continued, as he caught the soundof her voice asking if Mrs. Cameron had returned. "You stay here while Imeet her first alone. I'll give it to her for cheating me so long andraising thunder generally!"

Katy tried to protest, but he was halfway down the stairs, and in amoment more was with his wife, who had come around armed and equipped tocensure Katy as the cause of Wilford's disappearance, and to demand ofher where she was the night she pretended to spend at No. ---- FifthAvenue. But the lady who came in so haughty and indignant was a verydifferent personage from the lady who, after listening for fifteenminutes to a fearful storm of oaths and reproaches, mingled withstartling truths and bitter denunciations against herself and her boy, sank into a chair, pale and trembling, and overwhelmed with the harvestshe was reaping. 

But her husband was not through with her yet. He had reserved thebitterest drop for the last, and coming close to her he said:

"And who think you the woman is--this Genevra, Wilford's and yourdivorced wife? You were too proud to acknowledge an apothecary'sdaughter! 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 theroom, he walked to the window, and lifting the sash scraped from thesill a handful of the light spring snow which had been falling sincenoon. With this he brought his wife back to consciousness, and thenmarked out her future course. 

"I know what is in your mind, " he said. "You would like to have all theblame rest on Katy; but, madam, hear me--just so sure as through yourmeans one breath of suspicion falls on her. I'll _bla at_ out the wholestory of Genevra. Then see who is censured. On the other hand, if youhold your tongue, and make Juno hold hers, and stick to Katy throughthick and thin, acting as if you would like to swallow her whole, I'llsay nothing of this Genevra. Is it a bargain?"

"Yes, " came faintly from the sofa cushions, where Mrs. Cameron hadburied her face, sobbing in a confused, frightened way, and after amoment finding voice to say: "What will you do with Phillips and Esther?He must have questioned them. "

"The deuce he did! I'll see to that I'll throttle them if they ventureto speak!" and summoning both the females to his presence, Mr. Camerondemanded if either had reported what Wilford had said to them. 

Except to each other they had not, though Phillips confessed to a greatdesire to do so when a cousin was in the previous night. 

"Hang the cousin, and you, too, if you do!" Mr. Cameron replied, andgiving them some very strong advice, couched in very strong language, hedismissed the servants to the kitchen, satisfied that so far Katy wassafe. "But who is the villain who first informed? If I had him by theneck!" the enraged man continued, just as there came a second ring--atimid, hesitating ring, as if the new arrival were half afraid topresent himself and his errand. 

"Speak of angels and you hear the rustle of their wings, " is a proverbas true and much pleasanter of thought than its opposite, and whetherTom Tubbs were an angel or not, it was he who stood twirling his cap inthe hall, asking for Mrs. Cameron. 

"She can't see you, but I'll take the message. Is it about my son?"Father Cameron said, striding up to the boy, who began to wish himselfaway. 

Ever since inquiries had been made at the office for Wilford'swhereabouts, Tom had been uneasy, for he could not forget the savagelook in Wilford's face when he first told him of Katy and Dr. Grant; andwhen he heard that instead of going to Yonkers Wilford had taken thecars for Philadelphia, he was certain something was wrong, and longed toconfess to Katy what he knew of the matter. He had no idea of meddling, but came with the kindest intentions, thinking he should feel betterwhen the load was off his mind. He was then poorly prepared for hisfierce reception from Mr. Cameron, who asked so energetically what hehad to say. 

"It wasn't much, " Tom began. "I only wanted to tell her maybe I was toblame for repeating what I saw. "

"What did you see?" and Mr. Cameron laid his hand on Tom's coat collaras if to shake the information out of him. 

But there was no need of this, for the frightened youth told quicklywhat he had come to tell, seeming so sorry and appearing so hurt withalthat the elder Cameron grew very gracious, and dismissed him with theconviction that Katy had nothing to fear from Tom Tubbs. Mrs. Cameronwas with her now, giving her kisses and words of sympathy, telling herWilford would come back, and adding that in any event no one could orshould blame her. 

"I have heard the whole from husband; it was a misunderstanding, that isall. Wilford was wrong to deceive you about Genevra. I was wrong to lethim; but we will have no more concealments. You think she is livingstill--that she is Marian Hazelton?" and Mrs. Cameron smoothed Katy'shair as she talked, trying to be motherly and kind, while her heart beatmore painfully at thoughts of a Genevra living than it ever had onthoughts of a Genevra dead. 

She did not doubt the story, although it seemed so strange, and it madeher faint as she wondered if the world would ever know and what it wouldsay if it did. That her husband would tell if she failed in a singlepoint she was sure, but she should not fail; she would swear Katy wasinnocent of everything, if necessary, while Juno and Bell should sweartoo. 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 followedWilford's disappearance not a word was breathed against Katy, whosecause the family espoused so warmly. Bell and the father because theyreally loved and pitied her, and Mrs. Cameron and Juno because it savedthem from the disgrace which would have fallen on Wilford had thefashionable world known then of Genevra. 

The sudden disappearance of a man like Wilford Cameron could not faileven in New York to cause some excitement, especially in his ownimmediate circle of acquaintances, and for several days the matter wasdiscussed in all its phases, and every possible opinion and conjectureoffered as to the cause of his strange conduct. Insanity! how many sinsit is made to cover, and how often is it pleaded for an excuse when noother can be found. This is especially true in the higher walks of life, and so in Wilford's case it was put forward, cautiously at first by Mrs. Cameron herself, who wondered at the avidity with which the suggestionwas seized and handed from one to another, some remembering littlethings which tended to confirm the belief, others slyly shrugging theirshoulders as they responded: "Very probable, " but all tacitly allowingthe understanding to prevail that insanity had made Wilford Cameron avoluntary wanderer from home. They could not believe in domestictroubles when they saw how his family clung to and defended Katy fromthe least approach of censure, Juno taking up her abode with her"afflicted sister" until such time as Wilford could be heard from ormore definite arrangements be made; Mrs. Cameron driving around each dayto see her; Bell always speaking of her with genuine affection, whilethe father clung to her like a hero, the quartet forming a barrieracross which the shafts of scandal could not reach. 

CHAPTER XLIII. 

WHAT FOLLOWED. 

And where the while was Wilford? Fortunate, indeed, is it for thedisappointed, desperate men of the present day that when their horizonis blackest and life seems not worth preserving, they can leave the pastbehind and find a refuge in the army. To Wilford it presented itself atonce as the place of all others. Anything which could divert his mindwas welcome, and ere the close of that first day of Katy's return fromYonkers, his name was enrolled in the service of his country. He hadgone directly to Washington, stumbling accidentally upon an old collegeacquaintance who was getting up a company, and whose first lieutenanthad disappointed him. Learning Wilford's wishes he offered him the post, which was readily accepted, and ere four days were gone LieutenantWilford Cameron, with no regret as yet for the past, marched away toswell the ranks of men who, led by General McClellan, were pressing on, as they believed, to Richmond and victory. A week of terrible suspensewent by and then there came a note to Mr. Cameron from his son, requesting him to care for Katy, but asking no forgiveness for himself. 

"I have disgraced you all, " he wrote, "and I know just how you feel, butI am not sorry for the step I've taken. When I am I shall probably comeback, provided that day finds me alive. "

And that was all the proud man wrote. Not one word was there for Katy, whose eyes, which had not wept since she knew she was deserted, movedslowly over the short letter, weighing every word, and then were liftedsadly to her father's face as she said: "I will write and tell him allthe truth, and on his answer will depend my future course. "

This she said referring to the question she had raised as to whether incase Wilford did not come back she should remain in New York or go toSilverton, where as yet they were ignorant of her affliction, for UncleEphraim had not told of the telegram, and Katy would not alarm themuntil she knew something definite. 

And so the days went by, while Katy's letter was sent to Wilford, together with another from his father, who confirmed all Katy hadprotested of her innocence and ended by calling his son a "confoundedfool" and telling him to throw up his shoulder straps, which "only honestmen had a right to wear, and come home where he belonged. "

To this there came an angry, indignant answer, bidding the father attendto his own business, and allow the son to attend to his. To Katy, however, Wilford wrote in a different strain, showing here and theremarks of tenderness and relenting, but saying what he had done could notnow be helped--he was in for a soldier's life of two years, and shouldabide his choice. At the idea of Genevra's being alive he scoffed; heknew better than that, and even if she were why need Katy have gone withit to Morris. Surely she should have had the discretion to keepsomething to herself. 

This was the purport of Wilford's letter to Katy, who when she hadfinished reading said, sorrowfully:

"Wilford never loved me. It was a mere fancy, a great mistake, and Icannot stay in his home, knowing that I am not trusted and respected asa wife should be. I will go to Silverton. There is room for me there. Ishall write to Helen to-day. "

Meanwhile at Silverton, Uncle Ephraim, still keeping the telegram asecret, grew more and more anxious as there came no news of Katy. Whatdid the silence mean? Uncle Ephraim pondered the matter all day long, holding conversations with himself upon the subject, and finally makingup his mind to the herculean task of going to New York to see what wasthe matter. To the family, who asked the reason of his sudden journey, he said: He had a notion that something ailed Katy, and he was goingto see. 

No one ever thought of opposing Uncle Ephraim, and the following dayfound him ready for the journey Aunt Betsy had taken before him. 

Presuming upon her experience as a traveler, that good dame hadproffered sundry pieces of advice with reference to what it was best forhim to do on the road, telling him which side of the car to sit, whereto get out, and above all things not to shake hands with the conductorwhen asked for his ticket. 

Uncle Ephraim heard her good-humoredly, and stuffing into his pocket thepaper of ginger-snaps, fried cakes and cheese, which Aunt Hannah hadprepared for his lunch, he started for the cars, and was soon on his wayto New York. 

In his case there was no Bob Reynolds to offer aid and comfort, and theold man was nearly torn in pieces by the burly hackman, who, the momenthe appeared to view, pounced upon him as lawful prey, each claiming thehonor of taking him wherever he wished to go, and raising such a dinabout his ears that he finally turned away thoroughly disgusted, tellingthem:

"He had feet and legs, and common sense, and he guessed he could findhis 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 succeeded infinding the number without difficulty. 

"This is it, " he said, stopping in front of the tall building, andexamining it closely from the roof to the basement. 

Now that he was really there, a misgiving as to the propriety of the actassailed him for the first time, and he began to wish he had not come. 

"I won't pull that nub, " he said, glancing at the silver knob. "I'll godown to the kitchen door, as like enough they've company. "

Accordingly Esther, who chanced to be in the basement, was startled by aheavy knock, and was startled still more at the tall, white-haired manwho addressed her as "Sis, " and asked if "Miss Cameron was to hum. "

"A man in the kitchen asking for me!" Katy exclaimed, when Estherreported the message, and with her mind full of possible news fromWilford, she ran hastily down the basement stairs, and with a loudscream of joy threw herself into Uncle Ephraim's arms, an act which soastonished Phillips that she dropped the dish of soup she was preparingfor the dinner table, the greasy liquid bespattering Katy's dress, andbringing her to a sense of where she was, and that she should not bethere. 

"Come upstairs, " she said, holding Uncle Ephraim's hand, and leading himto the parlor, while the first tears she had shed since she knew she wasdeserted rained in torrents over her face. 

"What is it, Katy-did? I mistrusted something was wrong. What hashappened?" Uncle Ephraim asked, and with his arm thrown protectinglyaround her, Katy told him what had happened, and then asking what sheshould do. 

"Do?" the old man repeated. "Go home with me to your own folks until hecomes from the wars. He is your husband, and I shall say nothing agin'him, but if it was to do over I would forbid the banns. That chap hasmisused you the wust way. You need not deny it, for it's writ all overyour face, " he continued, as Katy tried to stop him, for sore as was herheart with the great injustice done her, she would not have Wilfordblamed. 

He was her husband still, and she had loved him so fondly that, whetherworthy or not of her love, she could not turn from him so soon. 

"I wrote to Helen yesterday, so they will be prepared for me, " she said, anxious to change the conversation, and feeling glad when dinner wasannounced. 

Leading him to the table, she presented him to Juno, whose cold nodand haughty stare were lost on the old man presiding with so muchpatriarchal dignity at the table, and bowing his white head soreverently as he asked the first blessing which had ever been said atthat table, except as Helen or Morris had breathed a prayer of thanksfor the bounty provided. 

It had not been a house of prayer--no altar had been erected for themorning and evening sacrifice. God had almost been forgotten, and now Hewas pouring His wrath upon the handsome dwelling, making it sodistasteful that Katy was anxious to leave it, and expressed herwillingness to accompany Uncle Ephraim to Silverton as soon as thenecessary arrangements could be made. 

"I don't take it she comes for good, " Uncle Ephraim said that evening, when Mr. Cameron, to whom she referred the matter, opposed her going, "for when the two years are gone, and her man wants her back, as hewill, she must come, of course. But she grows poor here in the city. Itdon't agree with her like the scent of the clover and the breeze fromthe hills. So, shet up the house for a spell, and let the child comewith me. "

Mr. Cameron knew that Katy would be happier at Silverton, and though hedisliked to part with her, he finally consented to her going, and placedat her disposal a sum which seemed to the deacon a little fortune initself. 

In the kitchen there were sad faces when the servants heard of thearrangement which was to deprive them not only of a pleasant home, butof a mistress whom they both respected and loved. Esther pleaded hard togo with Katy, and only the latter's promise that possibly she might comeby and by was of any avail to stay the tears which dropped so fast asshe put up her mistress' dresses, designed for Silverton, and laid awaythe gayer, richer ones, which would be so sadly out of place upon hernow. 

To Mrs. Cameron and Juno it was a relief to have Katy taken from theirhands, and though they made a show of opposition, they were easilyquieted, and helped her off with alacrity, the mother promising to seethat the horse was promptly called for, and Juno offering to send thelatest fashion which might be suitable, as soon as it appeared. Bell washeartily sorry to part with the young sister who seemed going from herforever. 

"I know you will never come back. Something tells me so, " she said asshe stood with her arms around Katy's waist, and her lips occasionallytouching Katy's forehead. "But I shall see you, " she continued; "I amcoming to the farmhouse in the summer, to stay ever so long; and you maysay to Aunt Betsy that I like her ever so much, and"--here Bell glancedbehind her, to see that no one was listening, and then continued--"tellher a certain officer was sick a few days in a hospital last winter, andone of his men brought to him a dish of the most delicious driedpeaches he ever ate. That man was from Silverton, and the fruit was sentto him, he said, in a salt bag, by a nice old lady, for whose brother heused to work. Just to think, that the peaches I helped to pare, coloringmy hands so that the stain did not come off in a month, should have goneso straight to Bob, " and Bell's fine features shone with a light whichwould have told Bob Reynolds he was beloved, even if the lips did notrefuse to confess it. 

"I'll tell her, " Katy said, and then bidding them all good-by, andputting her hand on Uncle Ephraim's arm she went with him from the homewhere she had lived but two short years, and those the saddest, mosteventful ones of her short life. 

CHAPTER XLIV. 

MARK AND HELEN. 

There was much talk and wonder in Silverton when it was known that Katyhad come home to stay until her husband returned from the war, and atfirst the people were inclined to gossip and hint at some mystery orpossible estrangement; but this was brought to an end when thepostmaster's wife told of a letter which had come to Mrs. WilfordCameron from the Army of the Potomac, and of the answer returned withinthree days to Lieutenant Wilford Cameron, Co. , --th Regt. , N. Y. V. , etc. It must be all right, the gossips said, after that, but theywatched Katy curiously as she came among them again, so quiet, sosubdued, so unlike the Katy of old that they would hardly haverecognized her but for the beauty of her face and the sunny smile shegave to all, but which rested oftenest on the poor and suffering, whoblessed her as the angel of their humble homes, praying that God wouldremember her for all she was to them. The gold was purified at last, thedross removed, and Katy, in her beautiful consistent life, seemed indeedlike some bright angel straying among the haunts of men, rather than theweak and ofttimes sorely tempted mortal, which she knew herself to be. 

Wilford's letters, though not unkind, were never very satisfactory, andalways brought on a racking headache, from which she suffered intently. He had censured her at first for going back to Silverton, when hepreferred she should stay in New York, hinting darkly at the reason ofher choice, and saying to her once, when she told him how the Sundaybefore her twenty-first birthday she had knelt before the altar andtaken upon herself the vows of confirmation: "Your saintly cousin is, of course, delighted, and that I suppose is sufficient, without mycongratulations. "

Perhaps he did not mean it, but he seemed to take delight in teasingher, and Katy sometimes felt she should be happier without his lettersthan with them. He had never said he was sorry he had left her sosuddenly--indeed he seldom referred to the past in any way; or if he didit was in a manner which showed that he thought himself the injuredparty, if either. Once, indeed, he did admit that, in calmly reviewingthe whole thing, he saw no reason now to believe that in the matter ofDr. Grant she had been to blame, except in going to him with her troubleand so bringing about the present unfortunate state of affairs. This wasthe nearest to a concession on his part of anything he made; but it didKaty a world of good, brightening up her face, and making her even dareto meet Morris alone and speak to him naturally. Ever since her returnto Silverton she had studiously avoided him, and a stranger might havesaid they were wholly indifferent to each other; but that stranger wouldnot have known of Morris' daily self-discipline or of the one littlespot in Katy's heart kept warm and sunny by the knowing that MorrisGrant had loved her, even if the love had died, as she hoped it had. Itwould be better for them all, and so, lest by word or deed she shouldkeep the germ alive, she seldom addressed him directly, and never wentto Linwood unless some one was with her to prevent her being left withhim alone. A life like this could not be pleasant for Morris, and asthere seemed to be a lack of competent physicians in the army, he, afterprayerful deliberation, accepted a situation offered him as surgeon in aGeorgetown hospital, and early in June left Silverton for his new fieldof labor. 

True to her promise, Bell came at the last of July to Silverton, proving herself a dreadful romp as she climbed over the rocks in AuntBetsy's famous sheep pasture, or raked the hay in the meadow, andproving herself, too, a genuine woman, as with blanced cheek and anxiousheart she waited for tidings from the battles before Richmond, where thetide of success seemed to turn, and the North, hitherto so jubilant andhopeful, wore weeds of mourning from Maine to Oregon. Lieutenant Bob wasthere, and Wilford, too; and so was Captain Ray, digging in the marshyswamps, where death floated up in poisonous exhalations--plodding on theweary march, and fighting all through the seven days, where the sunpoured down its burning heat and the night brought little rest. Nowonder, then, that the three faces at the farmhouse grew white withanxiety, or that three pairs of eyes grew dim with watching the dailypapers. But the names of neither Wilford, Mark, nor Bob were ever foundamong the wounded, dead, or missing, and with the fall of the firstautumn leaf Bell returned to the city, more puzzled, more perplexed thanever with regard to Helen Lennox's real feelings toward Captain Ray. 

Rapidly autumn went by, bringing at last the week before Christmas, whenMark came home for a few days, looking ruddy and bronzed from exposureand hardship, but wearing the disappointed, listless look which Bell wasquick to detect, connecting it in some way with Helen Lennox. Only oncedid he call at Mr. Cameron's, and then as Juno was not present Bell hadhim all to herself, talking a great deal of Silverton, of Helen andKaty, in the latter of whom he seemed far more interested than in hersister. Many questions he asked concerning Katy, expressing his regretthat Wilford had ever left her, and saying he believed Wilford wassorry, too. He was in the hospital now, with a severe cold and a touchof the rheumatism, he said; but as Bell knew this already she did notdwell long upon that subject, choosing rather to talk of Helen--"as muchinterested in the soldiers, " she said, "as if she had a brother or alover in the army, " and her bright eyes glanced meaningly at Mark, whoanswered carelessly:

"Dr. Grant is there, you know, and that may account for her interest. "

Mark knew he must say something to ward off Bell's attacks, and so hecontinued talking of Dr. Grant and how much he was liked by the poorwretches who needed some one as kind and gentle as he to keep them fromdying of homesickness if nothing else. Once, too, he spoke of a nurse, asecond Nightingale, whose shadow on the wall the soldiers had not kissedperhaps, but who was worshiped by the pale, sick men to whom sheministered so tenderly. 

"She is very beautiful, " he added, "and every man of us would willinglytry a hospital cot for the sake of being nursed by her. "

Bell thought at once of Marian, but as Mark knew nothing of theirprivate affairs she would not question him, and after a few banteringwords concerning Lieutenant Bob and the picture he carried into everybattle, buttoned closely over his heart. Mark Ray took his leave, whileBell, softened by thoughts of Cob, ran upstairs to cry, going to hermother's room, as a seamstress was occupying her own. Mrs. Cameron wasout that afternoon, and that she had dressed in a hurry was indicated bythe unusual confusion of her room. Drawers were left open and variousarticles scattered about, while on the floor just as it had fallen froma glove box lay a letter which Bell picked up, intending to replace it. 

"Miss Helen Lennox, " she read in astonishment. "How came Helen Lennox'sletter here in mother's room, and from Mark Ray, too, " she continued, still more amazed as she took the neatly folded note from the envelopeand glanced at the name. "Foul play somewhere. Can it be mother?" sheasked, as she read enough to know that she held in her hand Mark's offerof marriage which had in some mysterious manner found its way to hermother's room. "I don't understand it at all, " she said, racking herbrain for a solution of the mystery. "But the letter at least is safewith me. I'll send it to Helen this very day and to-morrow I'll tellMark Ray. "

Procrastination was not one of Bell Cameron's faults, and for full halfan hour before her mother and Juno came home, the stolen letter had beenlying in the mail box where Bell herself deposited it, together with afew hurriedly written lines, telling how it came into her hands, butoffering no explanation of any kind. 

"Mark is home now on a leave of absence which expires day afterto-morrow, " she wrote, "but I am going around to see him, and if youdo not hear from him in person I am greatly mistaken. "

Very closely Bell watched her mother when she came from her room, butthe letter had not been missed, and in blissful ignorance Mrs. Camerondisplayed her purchases and then talked of Wilford, wondering how he wasand if it were advisable for any of them to go to him. 

The next day a series of hindrances kept Bell from making her call asearly as she had intended doing, so that Mrs. Banker and Mark were justrising from dinner when told she was in the parlor. 

"I meant to have come before, " she said, seating herself by Mark, "butI could not get away. I have brought you some good news. I think--thatis--yes, I know there has been some mistake, some wrong somewhere, whether intended or not. Mark Ray, " and the impetuous girl faceddirectly toward him, "if you could have any wish you might name whatwould it be? Come now, imagine yourself a Cinderella and I the fairygodmother. What will you have?"

Mark knew she was in earnest and her manner puzzled him greatly, but heanswered, laughingly: "As a true patriot I should wish for peace onstrictly honorable terms. "

"Pshaw!"

The word dropped very prettily from Bell's lips as with a shrug shecontinued:

"You men are very patriotic, I know, especially if you wear shoulderstraps, but isn't there something dearer than peace? Suppose, forinstance, Union between the North and South on strictly honorable terms, as you say, was laid upon one scale and union between yourself and HelenLennox was laid upon the other, which would you take?"

Mark's lips were very white now, but he tried to laugh as he replied: "Ishould say the Union, of course. "

"Yes, but which union?" Bell rejoined, and then as she saw that Mrs. Banker was beginning to frown upon her she continued: "But to comedirectly to the point. Yesterday afternoon I found--no matter where orhow--a letter intended for Helen Lennox, which I am positive she neversaw or heard of; at least her denial to me that a certain Mark Ray hadever offered himself is a proof that she never saw what was an offermade just before you went away. I read enough to know that, and then Itook the letter and--"

She hesitated, while Mark's eyes turned dark with excitement, and evenMrs. 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, soit's sure this time. But why don't you thank me, Captain Ray?" sheasked, as Mark's face was overshadowed with anxiety. 

"I was wondering whether it were well to send it--wondering how it mightbe 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 wasafloat, and she denied it, seeming greatly distressed, but showingplainly that had such offer been received she would not have refused it. You should have seen her last summer, Captain Ray, when we waited soanxiously for news from the Potomac. Her face was a study as her eyesran over the list of casualties, searching not for her amiablebrother-in-law, nor yet for Willard Braxton, their hired man. It wasplain to me as daylight, and all you have to do is to follow up thatletter with another, or go yourself, if you have time. " Bell said, asshe arose to go, leaving Mark in a state of bewilderment as to what hehad heard. 

Who withheld that letter? and why? were questions which troubled himgreatly, nor did his mother's assurance that it did not matter so longas it all came right at last, tend wholly to reassure him. One thing, however, was certain. He would see Helen before he returned to hisregiment--he would hear from her own lips what her answer would havebeen had she received the letter. He would telegraph in the morning toWashington, and then run the risk of being a day behind the timeappointed for his return to duty. Never since the day of Aunt Betsy'srevelations had Mark felt as light and happy as he did that night, scarcely closing his eyes in sleep, but still not feeling tired whennext morning he met his mother at the breakfast table and disclosed inpart his plans. He would not tell her all there was in his mind lest itshould not be fulfilled, but when at parting with her he did say:

"Suppose you have three children when I return instead of two, is thereroom in your heart for the third?"

"Yes, always room for Helen, " was the reply, as with a kiss ofbenediction Mrs. Banker sent her boy away. 

CHAPTER XLV. 

CHRISTMAS EVE AT SILVERTON. 

There was to be a Christmas tree at St. John's, and all the week thechurch had been the scene of much confusion. But all the work was overnow; the church was swept and dusted, the tree with its gay adorningswas in its place, the little ones, who, trying to help, had hindered andvexed so much, were gone, as were their mothers, and only tarried withthe 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. Itwas very quiet there, and very pleasant too, with the fading sunlightstreaming through the chancel window, lighting up the cross above it, and falling softly on the wall where the evergreens were hung with thesacred words: "Peace on earth and good will toward men. " And Helen feltthe peace stealing over her as by the register she sat down for a momentere going to the organ loft where the boy was waiting for her. Not eventhe remembrance of the dark war cloud hanging over the land disturbedher then, as her thoughts went backward eighteen hundred years toBethlehem's manger and the little child whose birth the angels sang. Andas she thought, that Child seemed to be with her, a living presence towhich she prayed, leaning her head upon the railing of the pew in frontand asking Him to keep her in the perfect peace she felt around her now. She had given Mark Ray up, and giving up had made a cruel wound, but shedid not feel it now, although she thought of him in that quiet hour, asking God to keep him in safety wherever he might be, whether in thelonely watch or kneeling as she hoped he might in some house of God, where the Christmas carols would be sung and the Christmas story told. 

A movement of her hand as she lifted up her head struck against thepocket of her dress, where lay the letter brought to her an hour or soago--Bell's letter--which, after glancing at the superscription, she hadput aside until a more convenient season for reading it. 

Taking it out, she tore open the envelope, starting suddenly as anotherletter, soiled and unsealed, met her eye. She read Bell's first, andthen, with a throbbing heart, which as yet would not believe, she tookup Mark's, and understanding now much that was before mysterious to her. Juno's call, too, came to her mind, and though she was unwilling tocharge so foul a wrong upon that young lady, she could find no othersolution to the mystery. There was a glow of indignation--Helen hadscarcely been mortal without it; but that passed away in pity for themisguided girl and in joy at the happiness opening so broadly beforeher. That Mark would come to Silverton she had no hope, but he wouldsurely write--his letter, perhaps, was even then on the way; and kissingthe one she held she hid it in her bosom and went up to where the organboy had for several minutes been kicking at stools and books, andwhistling "Old John Brown" by way of attracting attention. The boy wasin a hurry, and asked in so forlorn a tone: "Is we going to play?" thatHelen answered good-humoredly: "Just a few minutes, Billy. I want to trythe 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 thatmorning when I put the lilies in your hair, " and she played so out oftime and tune that Billy asked: "What makes 'em go so bad?"

"I can't play now; I'm not in the mood, " she said at last. "I shallfeel better by and by. You can go home if you like. "

Billy needed no second bidding, but catching up his cap ran down thestairs and out into the porch, just as up the step a young man camehurriedly, the horse he had hitched to a tree smoking from exercise andhimself looking eager and excited. 

"Hello, boy, " he cried, grasping the collar of Bill's roundabout andholding him fast, "who's in the church?"

"Darn yer, old Jim Sykes, you let me be, or I'll--" the boy began, butwhen he saw his captor was not Jim Sykes, but a tall, fine-looking man, wearing a soldier's uniform, he changed his tone, and standing still, answered civilly: "I thought you was Jim Sykes, the biggest bully intown, who is allus hectorin' us boys. Nobody is there but she--MissLennox--up where the organ is, " and having given the desiredinformation, Bill ran off, wondering first if it wasn't Miss Helen'sbeau, and wondering next, in case she should some time get married inchurch, if he wouldn't fee the organ boy as well as the sexton. "Heorto, " Bill soliloquized, "for I've about blowed my gizzard outsometimes, when she and Mrs. Cameron sings the 'Te Deum. '"

Meanwhile Mark Ray, who had driven first to the farmhouse in quest ofHelen, entered the church, glancing in upon the festooned walls, andthen as he heard a sound in the loft, stealing noiselessly up the stairsto where Helen sat in the dim light, reading again the precious letterwithheld from her so long. She had moved her stool near to the window, and her back was toward the door, so that she neither saw nor heard, norsuspected anything, until Mark, bending over her so as to see what shehad in her hand, as well as the tear she had dropped upon it, claspedboth his arms about her neck, and drawing her face over back, kissed herfondly, calling her his darling, and saying to her as she tried tostruggle from him:

"I know I have a right to call you darling by that tear on my letter andthe 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 headrest on his bosom, where he had laid it, and her hot, trembling handcrept into his, so that he was answered, and for a moment he only kissedand caressed the fair girl he knew now was his own. They could not talktogether there very long, for Helen must go home; but he made good useof the time he had, telling her many things, and then asking her aquestion 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 is not to bedenied. "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 itbetter. I hinted it to her and she said there was room for you in herlove. It will make me a better man, a better soldier, if I can say 'mywife, ' as other soldiers do. You don't know what a charm there is inthat word, Helen--keeping a man from sin, and if I should die I wouldrather 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 pledgeyour vows to me? I cannot wait till to-morrow; my leave of absenceexpired 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, andwrapping her cloak and furs about her, Mark led her down to the sleigh, and taking his seat beside her, drove back to the farmhouse, where thesupper waited for her. Katy, to whom Mark first communicated his desire, warmly espoused his cause, and that went far toward reassuring Helen, who, for some time past had been learning to look up to Katy as to anolder sister, so sober, so earnest, so womanly had Katy grown sinceWilford went away. 

"It is so sudden, and people will talk, " Helen said, knowing while shesaid it how little she cared for people and smiling at Katy's reply:

"They may as well talk about you a while as me. It is not so bad whenonce you are used to it. "

After Katy, Aunt Betsy was Mark's best advocate. It is true this was notjust what she had expected when Helen was married. The "infair" whichWilford had declined was still in Aunt Betsy's mind; but that, shereflected might be yet. If Mark went back on the next train there couldbe no proper wedding party until his return, when the loaves of frostedcake, and the baked fowls she had seen in imagination should be there inreal, tangible form, and as she expressed it they would have a "high. "Accordingly she threw herself into the scale beginning to balance infavor of Mark, and when at last old Whitey stood at the door ready totake the family to the church, Helen sat upon the lounge listening halfbewildered, while Katy assured her that she could play the voluntary, even if she had not looked at it, that she could lead the childrenwithout the organ, and in short do everything Helen was expected to doexcept go to the altar with Mark. 

"That I leave for you, " and she playfully kissed Helen's forehead, asshe tripped from the room, looking back when she reached the door, andcharging the lovers not to forget to come, in their absorption of eachother. 

St. John's was crowded that night, just as churches always are on suchoccasions, the children occupying the front seats, with looks ofexpectancy upon their faces, as they studied the heavily laden tree, theboys wondering if that ball, or whistle, or wheelbarrow was for them, and the girls appropriating the tastefully dressed dolls, showing soconspicuously among the dark-green foliage. The Barlows were ratherlate, 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 AuntBetsy's elbowing her way to the front, and near to the Christmas treewhich she had helped to dress, just as she had helped to trim thechurch. She did not believe in such "flummmeries" it is true, and sheclassed them with the "quirks, " but rather than "see the gals slavethemselves to death, " she had this year lent a helping hand. Donning twoshawls, a camlet cloak, a knit scarf for her head, and a hood to keepfrom catching cold, she had worked early and late, fashioning the mostwonderfully shaped wreaths, tying up festoons, and even trying her handat a triangle; but turning her back resolutely upon crosses, which weremore than her Puritanism could endure. The cross was a "quirk, " withwhich she'd have nothing to do, though once, when Katy seemed more thanusually bothered and wished somebody would hand her tacks. Aunt Betsyrelented 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 werewanted; but with each one given out, conscientiously turning her headaway, lest her eyes should fall upon what she conceived the symbol ofthe Romish Church. But when the whole was done, none were louder intheir praises than the good Aunt Betsy, who was guilty of asking Mrs. Deacon Bannister when she came in to inspect, "why the orthodox couldn'tget up some such doin's for their Sunday school. It pleased the childrenmightily. "

But Mrs. Deacon Bannister answered with some severity:

"We don't believe in shows and plays, you know, " thus giving a doublethrust, and showing that the opera had never been quite forgotten. "Here's a pair of skates, though, and a smellin' bottle. I'd like tohave put on for John and Sylvia, " she added, handing her package to AuntBetsy, who, while seeing the skates and smelling bottle suspended from abough, was guilty of wondering if "the partaker wasn't most as bad asthe thief. "

This was in the afternoon and was all forgotten now, when with herSunday clothes she never would have worn in that jam but for the greatoccasion, Aunt Betsy elbowed her way up the middle aisle, her facewearing a very important and knowing look, especially when UncleEphraim's tall figure bent for a moment under the hemlock boughs, andthen disappeared in the little vestry room where he held a privateconsultation with the rector. That she knew something her neighborsdidn't was evident. But she kept it to herself, turning her headoccasionally to look up at the organ where Katy was presiding. Others, too, there were who turned their heads as the soft liquid music began tofill the church, and the heavy bass rolled up the aisles, making thefloor tremble beneath their feet and sending a thrill through everyvein. It was a skillful hand which swept the keys that night, for Katy'sforte was music, and she played with her whole soul, not the voluntarythere 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 herown improvising, she filled the house as it had never been filledbefore, playing a soft, sweet refrain when she thought of Helen, thenbursting into louder, fuller tones, when she remembered Bethlehem'schild and the song the angels sang, and then as she recalled her ownsacrifice since she knelt at the altar a happy bride, the organ notesseemed much like human sobs, now rising to a stormy pitch of passion, wild and uncontrolled, and then dying out as dies the summer wind aftera fearful storm. Awed and wonderstruck the organ boy looked at Katy asshe played, almost forgetting his part of the performance in hisamazement, and saying to himself when she had finished:

"Guy, though, ain't she a brick, " and whispering to her: "Didn't we gothat strong?"

Katy knew she had made an impression, and her cheeks were very red asshe went down to the body of the church, joining the children with whomshe was to sing, but she soon forgot herself in the happiness of thelittle ones, who could scarcely be controlled until the short servicewas over and the gifts about to be distributed. Much the people hadwondered where Helen was, as, without the aid of music, Katy led thechildren in their carols, and this wonder increased when as time passedon it was whispered around that "Miss Lennox had come and was standingwith a man back by the register. "

After this Aunt Betsy grew very calm. She knew Helen was there and couldnow enjoy the distributing of the gifts, going up herself two or threetimes, and wondering why anybody should think of her, a good-for-nothingold woman. The skates and the smelling bottles both went safely toSylvia and John, while Mrs. Deacon Bannister looked radiant when hername was called and she was made the recipient of a jar of butternutpickles, such as only Aunt Betsy Barlow could make. 

"Miss Helen Lennox. A soldier in uniform, from one of her Sunday schoolscholars. "

The words rang out loud and clear, the rector holding up the sugar toybefore the amused audience, who turned to look at Helen, blushing sopainfully, and trying to hold back the real man in soldier's dress whowent quietly up the aisle, receiving the gift with a bow and smilewhich turned the heads of half the ladies near him, and then went backto Helen, over whom he bent, whispering something which made her cheeksgrow brighter than they were before, while she dropped her eyesmodestly. 

"Who is he?" a woman asked, touching Aunt Betsy's shoulder. 

"Captain Ray, from New York, " was the answer, as Aunt Betsy gave to herdress a little broader sweep and smoothed the bow she had tried to tiebeneath her chin just as Mattie Tubbs had tied it on the memorable operanight. 

"Miss Helen Lennox. A sugar heart, from one of her scholars, " the rectorcalled again, the titters of the audience almost breaking into cheers asthey began to suspect the relation sustained to Helen by the handsomeyoung officer, going up the aisle after Helen's heart and stopping tospeak to good Aunt Betsy, who pulled his coat skirt as he passed her. 

The tree by this time was nearly empty. Every child had been remembered, save one, and that Billy, the organ boy, who, separated from hiscompanions, stood near Helen, watching the tree wistfully, while shadowsof hope and disappointment passed alternately over his face as one afteranother the presents were distributed and nothing came to him. 

"There ain't a darned thing on it for me, " he exclaimed at last, whenboy nature could endure no longer, and Mark turned toward him just intime to see the gathering mist which but for the most heroic effortswould have merged into tears. 

"Poor Billy, " Helen said, as she too heard his comment, "I fear he hasbeen forgotten. His teacher is absent and he so faithful at the organtoo. "

Mark knew now who the boy was and after a hurried consultation withHelen, who knowing Billy well, suggested that money would probably bemore acceptable than even skates or jackknives, neither of which werepossible now, folded something in a bit of paper, on which he wrote aname and then sent it to the rector. 

"Billy Brown, our faithful organ boy, " sounded through the church, andwith a brightened face Billy went up the aisle and received the littlepackage, ascertaining before he reached his standpoint near the doorthat he was the owner of a five-dollar bill, and mentally deciding toadd both peanuts and molasses candy to the stock of apples he dailycarried into the cars. 

"You gin me this, " he said, nodding to Mark, "and you, " turning toHelen, "poked him up to it. "

"Well then, if I did, " Mark replied, laying his hand on the boy's coarsehair, "if I did, 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 toward the plastering just asthe last string of popcorn was given from the tree, and the exerciseswere about to close. 

It was not in Aunt Betsy's nature to keep her secret till this time, andsimultaneously with Billy's going up for his gift she whispered it toher neighbor, who whispered it to hers, until nearly all the audienceknew 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, withher cloak and fur, into Billy's charge, took Mark's offered arm, andwith beating heart and burning cheeks passed between the sea of eyesfixed so curiously upon her, up to where Katy once had stood on the Junemorning when she had been the bride. Not now, as then, were achinghearts present at that bridal. No Marian Hazelton fainted by the door;no Morris felt the world grow dark and desolate as the marriage vowswere spoken; and no sister doubted if it were all right and would end inhappiness. Only Katy seemed sad as she recalled the past, praying thatHelen's life might not be like hers. 

The ceremony lasted but a few moments, and then the astonished audiencepressed around the bride, offering their kindly congratulations, andproving to Mark Ray that the bride he had won was dear to others as wellas to himself. Lovingly he drew her hand beneath his arm, fondly helooked 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 furabout her neck. 

"Handy and gentle as a woman, " was the verdict pronounced upon him bythe female portion of the congregation as they passed out into thestreet, talking of the ceremony, and contrasting Helen's husband withthe haughty Wilford, who was not a favorite with them. 

It was Billy Brown who brought Mark's cutter around, holding the reinswhile Mark helped Helen, and then tucking the buffalo robes about herwith the remark: "It's all-fired cold, Miss Ray. Shall you play inchurch to-morrow?"

Assured that she would, Billy walked away, and Mark was alone with hisbride, slowly following the deacon's sleigh, which reached the farmhousea long time before the little cutter, so that a fire was already kindledin the parlor when Helen arrived, and also in the kitchen stove, wherethe teakettle was placed, for Aunt Betsy said "the chap should have somesupper before he went back to York. "

Four hours he had to stay, and they were well spent in talking ofhimself, of Wilford, and of Morris, and in planning Helen's future. Ofcourse she would spend a portion of her time at the farmhouse, he said, but his mother had a claim upon her, and it was his wish that she shouldbe in New York as much as possible. 

"Now that you have Mrs. Cameron, you do not need my wife, " he said toMrs. Lennox, with an emphasis upon the last word, which he seemed veryfond of using. 

Much he wished to stay with the wife so lately his, but as that couldnot be, he asked at last that she go with him to Washington. It might besome days before his regiment was ordered to the front, and in that timethey could enjoy so much. But Helen knew it would not be best, and soshe declined, promising, however, to come to him whenever he should needher. 

Swiftly now the last moments went by, and a "Merry Christmas" was saidby one and another as they took their seats at the plentiful repast AuntBetsy had provided, Mark feasting more on Helen's face than on theviands spread before him. It was hard for him to leave her, hard for herto let him go, but the duty was imperative, and so when at last thefrosty air grew keener as the small hours of night crept on, he stoodwith his arms about her, nor thought it unworthy of a soldier that hisown tears mingled with hers as he bade her good-by, kissing her againand again, and calling her his precious wife, whose memory would makehis camp-life brighter and shorten the days of absence. There was no onewith them when at last Mark's horse dashed from the yard over thecreaking snow, leaving Helen alone upon the doorstep, with theglittering stars shining above her head and her husband's farewell kisswet 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, andblowing across her forehead, made reply to that questioning, as shewaited till the last faint sound of Mark Ray's bells died away in thedistance, and then shivering with cold re-entered the farmhouse. 

CHAPTER XLVI. 

AFTER CHRISTMAS EVE. 

Merrily rang the bells next day, the sexton deeming it his duty to sendforth a merry peal in honor of the bride whose husband had rememberedhis boy so liberally. But Helen's heart was very sad as she met thesmiling faces of her friends, and Mark had never been prayed for moreearnestly than on that Christmas morning, when Helen knelt at the altarrail and received the sacred symbols of a Savior's dying love, askingthat God would keep the soldier husband, hastening on to New York, andfrom thence to Washington. Much the Silvertonians discussed the wedding, nor were these discussions likely to be shortened by the arrival ofMattie Tubbs and Tom, who came by the express from New York, bothsurprised at what they heard, and both loud in their praises of CaptainRay, "the best and kindest man that ever lived, " Tom said, while Mattietold fabulous stories of his wealth. Had Helen been the queen she couldhardly have been stared at more curiously than she was that Christmasday, when late in the afternoon she drove through the town with Katy, the villagers looking admiringly after her, noting the tie of herbonnet, the arrangement of her face trimmings, and discovering in both astyle and fitness they had never discovered before. As the wife of MarkRay Helen became suddenly a heroine, in whose presence poor Katysubsided completely, nor was the interest at all diminished when twodays later Mrs. Banker came to Silverton and was met at the depot byHelen, whom she hugged affectionately, calling her "my dear daughter, "and holding her hand all the way to the covered sleigh waiting there forher. Further than that the curious ones could not follow, and so theydid not know how on the road to the farmhouse Mrs. Banker expressed herapprobation of what her boy had done, acknowledged her own unjustsuspicions, asking pardon for them, and receiving it in the warm kissHelen pressed upon her offered hand. Mrs. Banker was very fond of Helen, and not even the sight of the farmhouse, with its unpolished inmates, awakened a feeling of regret that her only son had not looked higher fora wife. She was satisfied with her new daughter, and insisted upontaking her back to New York. 

"I am very lonely now, lonelier than you can possibly be, " she saidto Mrs. Lennox, "and you will not refuse her to me for a few weeks atleast. It will do us both good, and make the time of Mark's absence somuch 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 shethought how desolate she should be without her sister. 

But it was right, and Katy urged Helen's going, thinking how the tableswere turned since the day when she had been the happy bride to whomgood-bys were said, instead of the wounded, sore-hearted sister leftbehind, bearing up bravely so long as Helen was in sight, but sheddingbitter tears when at last she was gone, tears which were only stayed bykind old Uncle Ephraim offering to take her to the little grave, where, from experience, he knew she always found rest and peace. The wintersnows were on it now, but Katy, looking at it from the sleigh in whichshe sat, knew just where the daisies were, and the blue violets whichwith the spring would bloom again, feeling comforted as she thought ofthat eternal spring in the bright world above, where her child hadgone. And so that night, when they gathered again around the fire in thepleasant little parlor, the mother and the old people did not miss Helenhalf so much as they should, for Katy sang her sweetest songs and woreher sunniest smile, while she told them of Helen's new home, and thentalked 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 histouching way, "that God would bless his little Sunbeam, and not let hergrow tired of living there alone with folks so odd and old. "

 * * * * *

"MARRIED--On Christmas Eve, at St. John's Church, Silverton, Mass. , byRev. Mr. Kelly, Captain MARK RAY, of the --th Regiment, N. Y. S. V. , toMiss HELEN LENNOX, of Silverton. "

Such was the announcement which appeared in several of the New Yorkpapers two days after Christmas, and such the announcement which BellCameron 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, passingthe paper to Juno who had come down late, and was looking cross andjaded from the effects of last night's dissipation. 

Taking the paper from her sister's hand, Juno glanced carelessly atthe paragraph indicated by Bell; then, as she caught Mark's name, sheglanced again with a startled, incredulous look, her cheeks and lipsturning white as she read that Mark Ray was lost to her forever, andthat in spite of the stolen letter Helen Lennox was his wife. 

"What is it, Juno?" Mrs. Cameron asked, noticing her daughter'sagitation. 

Juno told her what it was, handing her the paper and letting her read itfor herself. 

"Impossible! there is some mistake! How was it brought about?" shecontinued, darting a curious glance at Bell, whose face betrayed nothingas she leisurely sipped her coffee, and remarked: "I always thought itwould 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 roomthe entire day, suffering from a racking headache, and ordering thecurtains to be dropped, as the light hurt her eyes, she said to Bell, who, really pitying her now, never suggested that the darkened room wasmore to hide her tears than to save her eyes, and who sent away allcallers with the message that Juno was sick--all but Sybil Grandon, whoinsisted so hard upon seeing her dear friend that she was admitted toJuno's room, talking at once of the wedding, and making every one ofJuno's nerves quiver with pain as she descanted upon the splendid matchit was for Helen, or indeed for any girl. 

"I had given you to him, " she said, "but I see I was mistaken. It wasHelen 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 youwish to know why I did not marry him. "

Sybil Grandon was not deceived, but she good-naturedly suffered thatyoung lady to hope she was, and answered, laughingly: "I can't say Ihonor your judgment in refusing him, but you know best. However, I trustthat will not prevent your friendly advances toward his bride. Mrs. Banker has gone after her, I understand, and I want you to call with meas soon as convenient. Mrs. Mark Ray will be the belle of the season, depend upon it, " and gathering up her furs Mrs. Grandon kissed Junoaffectionately 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 suddenmarriage, Bell was very sure, from the dark, anxious look upon her facewhen she came from her room, whither she had repaired immediately afterbreakfast, but whatever her suspicions were they did not find form inwords. Mark was lost. It was too late to help that now, and as a politicwoman of the world, Mrs. Cameron decided to let the matter rest, and bypatronizing the young bride prove that she had never thought of MarkRay for her son-in-law. Hence it was that the Cameron carriage and theGrandon carriage stood together before Mrs. Banker's door, while theladies who had come in the carriages paid their respects to Mrs. Ray, rallying her upon the march she had stolen upon them, telling her howdelighted they were to have her back again, and hoping they should see agreat deal of each other during the coming winter. 

"You know we are related, " Juno said, holding Helen's hand a long timeat parting, ostensibly to show how very friendly she felt, but really toexamine and calculate the probable value of the superb diamond whichshone on Helen's finger, Mark's first gift, left for her with hismother, who had presented it for him. 

"As diamonds are now, that never cost less than four or five hundreddollars, " Juno said, as she was discussing the matter with Bell, andtelling her that Helen had the ring they had admired so much atTiffany's the last time they were there, and then her spiteful, enviousnature found vent in the remark: "I wonder at Mark's taste when onlyshoddy buy diamonds now. "

"Why, then, did you torment father into buying that little pin for youthe other day?" Bell asked, and Juno replied:

"I have always been accustomed to diamonds and that is a very differentthing from Helen Lennox putting them on. Did you notice how red and father fingers were, and rough, too? Positively her hand felt like a nutmeggrater. "

"You know the fable of the fox and the grapes, " Bell said, her gray eyesflashing indignantly upon her sister, who, wisely forbore furtherremarks upon Helen's hands and contented herself with wondering ifpeople generally would take up Mrs. Ray and honor her as they once didKaty. 

"Of course they will, " she said. "It's like heaps of them to do it, " andin this conclusion she was not wrong, for those who had liked HelenLennox did not find her less desirable now that she was Helen Ray, andnumberless were the attentions bestowed upon her and the invitations shereceived. 

But with few exceptions Helen declined the latter, feeling that, circumstanced as she was, with her husband in so much danger, it wasbetter not to mingle much in gay society. She was very happy with Mrs. Banker, who petted and caressed and loved her almost as much as if shehad been an own daughter. Mark's letters, too, which came nearly everyday, were bright sun spots in her existence, so full were they of tenderlove and kind thoughtfulness for her. He was very happy, he wrote, inknowing that at home there was a dear little brown-haired wife, waitingand praying for him, and but for the separation from her was wellcontent now with a soldier's life. Once when he was stationed for alonger time than usual at some point Helen thought seriously of going tohim for a week or more, but the project was prevented by the suddenarrival in New York of Katy, who came one night to Mrs. Banker's, herface as white as ashes, and a strange, wild expression in her eyes asshe said to Helen:

"I am going to Wilford. He is dying. He has sent for me. I ought to goon to-night, but cannot, my head aches so, " and pressing both her handsupon her head Katy sank fainting into Helen's arms. 

CHAPTER XLVII. 

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, when her eyeswere swollen with weeping over Morris' letter, which had come theprevious night, telling her how circumstances which seemed providentialhad led him to the hospital where her husband was, and where, too, wasMarian Hazelton. 

"I did not think it advisable to visit your husband at first, " he wrote, "while Miss Hazelton, who had recently been transferred to thishospital, also kept out of the way. Nor was it necessary that either ofus should minister to him there, for he was not thought very ill. 'Onlya slight touch of rheumatism, and a low, nervous fever, ' said theattending physician, of whom I inquired. Latterly, however, the feverhas increased to a fearful extent, seating itself upon the brain, sothat he knows neither myself nor Miss Hazelton, both of whom are withhim. She, because she would be here where she heard of danger, and Ibecause his case was given into my charge. So I am with him now, writingby his side, while he lies sleeping quietly, and Miss Hazelton bendsover him, bathing his burning head. He does not know her, but he talksof Katy, who he says is dead and buried across the sea. Will you come tohim, Katy? Your presence may save his life. Telegraph when you leave NewYork, and I will meet you at the depot. "

It is not strange that this letter, followed so soon by the telegramfrom Marian, should crush one as delicate as Katy, or that for a fewminutes she should have been stunned with the shock, so as neither tofeel nor think. But the reaction came soon enough, bringing with it onlythe remembrance of Wilford's love. All the wrong, the harshness, wasforgotten, and only the desire remained to fly at once to Wilford, talking of her in his delirium. Bravely she kept up until New York wasreached, but once where Helen was, the tension of her nerves gave way, and she fainted, so we have seen. 

At Father Cameron's that night there were troubled, anxious faces, forthey, too, had heard of Wilford's danger. But the mother could not go tohim. A lung difficulty, to which she was subject, had confined her tothe house for many days, and so it was the father and Bell who madetheir hasty preparations for the hurried journey to Georgetown. Theyheard 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 carriedhome, for she saw more than mere exhaustion from fatigue and fainting inthe white face lying so motionless on Helen's pillow, with the darkrings about the eyes, and the quiver of the muscles about the mouth. 

The morrow found that Bell was right, for Katy could not rise, but laylike some crushed flower still on Helen's bed, moaning softly:

"It is very hard, but God knows best. "

"Yes, darling, God knows best, " Helen answered, smoothing the brighthair, 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. "Godknows what is best, and does all for the best. "

Katy said it many times that long, long week, during which she stayed aninvalid in Helen's room, living from day to day upon the letters sent byBell, who had gone on to Georgetown with her father, and who gave butlittle hope that Wilford would recover. Not a word did she say ofMarian, and only twice did she mention Morris, so that when at last Katywas strong enough to venture on the journey, she had but little idea ofwhat had transpired in Wilford's sickroom. 

 * * * * *

Those were sad, weary days which Wilford first passed upon his hospitalcot, and as he was not sick but crippled, he had ample time forreviewing the past, which came up before his mind as vividly as if hehad been living again the scenes of bygone days. Of Katy he thoughtcontinually, blaming himself much, but so strong was his pride andselfishness, blaming her more for the trouble which had come upon them. Why need she have taken the Genevra matter so to heart, going with it toMorris and so bringing him into his present disagreeable situation. Hedid not mean to be unjust or unkind toward Katy, but he looked upon heras the direct cause of his being where he was. Had she never been seenin the cars with Morris, he should not have left home as he did, andmight anticipate going back without a flush of shame and a dread ofmeeting old friends, who would think less of him than they used to do. Athousand times Wilford had repented of his rashness, but never by a wordhad he admitted such repentance to any living being, and when on thedark, rainy afternoon which first saw him in the hospital, he turned hisface 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 youhere 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 hisfeelings, longing for home, or for the sight of a familiar face, andhalf resolving more than once to send for Katy, who had offered to come, and to whom he had replied: "It is not necessary. " But as often as heresolved his evil genius whispered: "She does not care to come here, "and so the message was never sent, while the longing for home facesbrought on a nervous fever, which made him so irritable that hisattendants sometimes turned from him in disgust, thinking him the mostunreasonable man they had ever met. Once he dreamed Genevra wasthere--that she came to him just as she was in her beautifulgirlhood--that her fingers threaded his hair as they used to do in theirhappy days at Brighton--that her hand was on his brow, her breath uponhis face, and with a start he awoke just as the rustle of femalegarments died away in the hall. 

"The new nurse in the second ward has been in here, " a comrade said. "She seemed specially interested in you, and if she had not been astranger I should have said she was crying over you. "

With a quick, sudden movement Wilford put his hand to his cheek, wherethere was a tear, either his own or that of the "new nurse, " who had sorecently bent over him. Retaining the same proud reserve which hadcharacterized his whole life, he asked no questions, but listenedintently to what his sick companions were saying of the beauty andtenderness of the young girl, they called her, who had glided for a fewmoments into their presence, winning their hearts in that short space oftime, and making them wish she would come back again. Wilford wished sotoo, conjuring up all sorts of conjectures about the unknown nurse, andonce going so far as to fancy it was Katy herself. But this idea wassoon dismissed. Katy would hardly venture there as a nurse, and if shedid she would not keep aloof from him. It was not Katy, and if not, whowas it that twice when he was sleeping came and looked at him, hiscomrades said, rallying him upon the conquest he had made, and soexciting his imagination that the fever which at first was hardlyobservable began to increase, and the blood throbbed hotly through hisveins, while his brows were knit together with thoughts of themysterious stranger. Then with a great shock it occurred to him thatKaty had affirmed:

"Genevra is alive, I have seen her. I recognized the picture at once. "

What if it were so, and this nurse was Genevra? The very thought firedWilford's brain, and when next his physician came he looked with somealarm upon the great change for the worse exhibited by his patient. Thatsurgeon's forte was more in dressing ghastly wounds than in subduingfever, and as he held Wilford's hand, he said:

"You have a fever, my friend, and it is increasing fast. Perhaps youwould like to see our new physician, Dr. Grant. He is great on fevers. "

"Dr. Grant--Dr. Morris Grant?" Wilford exclaimed, starting up in bedwith a fierce energy which surprised the surgeon. 

"Yes, Dr. Morris Grant, from Massachusetts, " the latter replied, hissurprise increasing when Wilford rejoined:

"Send Satan himself sooner than he. I hate him. "

The words dropped hissingly from the firmly set teeth, and Wilford fellback upon his pillow, exhausted with excitement and anger that MorrisGrant should be there in the same building and offered as his physician. 

"Never while my reason lasts, " he whispered to himself, with hatred ofMorris growing more intense with every beat of his wiry pulse. 

Wilford was very sick, and when next the surgeon came around he knew bythe bright, restless eyes that reason was tottering. 

"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'mdead. "

And that was the last, except the wild words of a maniac, which camefrom Wilford's lips for many a day and night. When they said he wasdangerous, Marian Hazelton the "new nurse, " sought and obtainedpermission to attend him, and again the eyes of the other occupants ofthe room were turned wonderingly toward her as she bent over the sickman, parting his matted hair, smoothing his tumbled pillow, and holdingthe cooling draught to the parched lips which muttered strange things inher ear, talking of Brighton, of Alnwick and Rome--of the heather on theScottish moors, and the daisies on Genevra's grave, where Katy once satdown. 

"She did not know Genevra was there, " he said. "She never guessed therewas a Genevra; but I knew, and I felt almost as if the dead were wrongedby that act of Katy's. Do you know Katy?" and his black eyes fastenedupon Marian, who, with the strange power she possessed over herpatients, soothed him into quiet, while she told him she knew Katy, andtalked to him of her, 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, " and holding her hand he fell away tosleep. 

This was the first day of her being with him, but there were other dayswhen he was not so quiet, when all her strength and that of Morris, who, at her earnest solicitation, came to her aid, was required to keep himon his bed. He was going home, he said, going back to Katy's; he hadpunished her long enough, and like a giant he writhed under a forcesuperior to his own, and which held him down and controlled him, whilehis loud outcries filled the buildings, and sent a shudder to the heartsof those who heard them. As the two men, who at first had occupied theroom with him, were well enough to leave for home, Marian and Morrisboth begged that unless absolutely necessary no other one should he sentto that small apartment, where all the air was needed for the patient intheir charge. And thus the room was left alone for Wilford, who grewworse so fast that Morris wrote to Katy, while Marian followed theletter with a telegram, bidding her come at once. 

 * * * * *

Slowly the wintry night was passing, the fifth since Morris' letter wassent to Katy, and Morris sat by Wilford's cot, wondering if the morningwould bring her to him, when suddenly he met Wilford's eyes fixed uponhim with a look of recognition he could not mistake. 

"Do you know me?" he asked, so kindly and with so much of genuinesympathy in his voice that the heavy eyelids quivered for an instant, asWilford nodded his head, and whispered:

"Dr. Grant. "

There had been a momentary flash of resentment when he saw who was thewatcher beside him, but Wilford was too weak, too helpless to cherishthat feeling long, and besides there were floating through his stillbewildered mind visions of some friendly hand, which had ministered tohim daily, of a voice and form, distinct from the one he thought anangel's, and which was not there now with him. That voice, that form, hefelt sure belonged to Morris Grant, and remembering his past harshnesstoward him, a chord of gratitude was touched, and when Morris took hishand he did not at once withdraw it, but let his long, white fingerscling around the warm, vigorous ones, which seemed to impart new lifeand strength. 

"You have been very sick, " Morris said, anticipating the questionWilford would ask, "You are very sick still, and at the request of yournurse I came to attend you. "

A pressure of the hand was Wilford's reply, and then there was silencebetween them, while Wilford mastered all his pride, and with quiveringlips whispered:

"Katy. "

"We have sent for her. We expect her every train, " Morris replied, andWilford asked:

"Who is we? Who has been with me--the nurse, I mean? Who is she?"

Morris hesitated a moment, and then said:

"Marian Hazelton--she who took care of baby. "

"I know--yes, " Wilford said, having no suspicion as to who was the womanstanding now just outside his door, and listening, with a throbbingheart, 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 thismoment, knowing well that in his present state Wilford must not beshocked, as a sight of Marian would shock him. He knew she was outsidethe door, and as Wilford turned his head upon the pillow, he went toher, and leading her to a safe distance, said softly:

"His reason has returned. "

"And my services, then, are ended, " Marian rejoined, looking himsteadily in the face, but not in the least prepared for his affirmativequestion:

"You are Genevra Lambert?"

There was a low, gasping sound, and Marian staggered forward a step ortwo, then steadying herself, she said:

"And if I am, it surely is not best for him to see me. You would notadvise it?"

She looked wistfully at Morris, the great desire to be recognized, to bespoken to kindly by the man who once had been her husband overmasteringfor a moment all her prudence. 

"It would not be best, both for his sake and Katy's, " Morris said, reading her thoughts aright, and with a moan like the dying out of herlast hope, Marian turned away, her eyes dim with tears and her heartheavy with a sense of something lost, as in the gray dawn of the morningshe went back to her former patients, who hailed her coming withchildish joy, one fair young boy from the Granite hills kissing the handwhich bandaged his poor crushed arm so tenderly, and thanking her thatshe had returned to him again. 

She had not asked Dr. Grant how much he knew of her story, or where hehad learned it. She was satisfied that he did know it, and she left hercase in his hands, wondering if at any time Wilford had been consciousof her presence as a nurse, and if he would miss her any. He did missher, but he made no comment, and when, as the morning advanced, anothernurse appeared, he said to himself:

"Surely this cannot be Miss Hazelton, " but asked no questions of anykind, and Marian's heart grew heavier when in answer to her inquiry, Morris said: "He has not mentioned you. "

 * * * * *

"Mr. J. Cameron, Miss Bell Cameron, " were the names on the cards sent toDr. Grant late that afternoon, and in a few moments he was with thefather and sister asking so anxiously for Wilford and explaining whyKaty was not with them. 

Wilford was sleeping when they entered his room, his face looking soworn and thin, and his hands folded so helplessly upon his breast, thatwith a gush of tears Bell knelt beside him and laying her warm cheekagainst his bony one, woke him with her sobs. For a moment he seemedbewildered, then recognising her, he raised his feeble arm and windingit about her neck, kissed her more tenderly than he had ever donebefore. 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 eyesmoved past his father, whom he did not see, on to the door as if inquest of some one. It was Katy, and, guessing his thoughts, Bell said:

"She is not here. She could not come now. She is sick in New York, butwill join us in a few days. "

There was a look of intense disappointment in Wilford's face, which evenhis father's warm greeting could not dissipate, and Morris saw the greattears as they dropped upon the pillow, the proud man trying hard torepress them, and asking no questions concerning any one at home. He wastoo weak to talk, but he held Bell's hand firmly in his as if afraidthat she would leave him, while his eyes rested alternately upon herface and that of his father, who, wholly unmanned at the fearful changein his son, laid his head upon the bed and cried aloud. 

Next morning Bell was very white and her voice trembled as she soughther brother's side and asked how he had rested. She had come from aconference 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 hissister you will tell him of his danger while there is time to seek therefuge without which death is terrible. "

"Oh, if I could only pray with and for him, " Bell thought, as she wentnext to her brother, mourning her misspent days, and feeling her couragegiving way when at last she stood in his presence and met his kindlysmile. 

"I dreamed it was all a dream, " he said, "and that you were not hereafter all. 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, hisquestion 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? Who said I was near todeath?"

"Dr. Grant, " was Bell's reply, which brought a fierce frown to Wilford'sface, and awoke all the angry passions of his heart. 

"Dr. Grant, " he repeated. "He says so because he wishes it. He wouldlike me removed from his path, but it shall not be. I will not die. Tellhim that. I will not die, " and Wilford's voice was hoarse with passionas he raised his clinched fists in the air. 

He was terribly excited, and in her fright Bell ran for Dr. Grant. ButWilford motioned him back, hurling after him words which kept him fromthe room the entire day, while the sick man rolled, and tossed, andraved in the delirium, which had returned, and which wore him out sofast. No one had the least influence over him except Marian Hazelton, who, without a glance at Mr. Cameron or Bell, glided to his side, andwith her presence and gentle words soothed him into comparative quiet, so that the bitter denunciations against the saint who wanted him todie, ceased, and he fell into a troubled sleep. 

Smoothing his pillow, and arranging the bedclothes tidily about him, Marian turned to meet the eyes of both Mr. Cameron and Bell fixedcuriously upon her. With a strange feeling of interest they had watchedher, both feeling an aversion to addressing her, and both wondering ifshe 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 theroom. 

Neither said what they thought of her, nor was her name once mentioned, but she was not for a moment absent from their minds as they from choicesat that night with Wilford, who slept off his delirium, and lay withhis face turned from them, so that they could not guess by itsexpression what was passing in his mind. 

All the next day he maintained the most frigid silence, answering onlyin monosyllables, while Bell kept wiping away the great drops of sweatconstantly 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; thenturning to Morris, as the door closed upon his father and his sister, hesaid, abruptly:

"Pray for me, if you can pray for one who yesterday hated you so forsaying he must die. "

Earnestly, fervently, Morris prayed, as for a dear brother, and when hefinished Wilford's faint "amen" sounded through the room. 

"I am not right yet, " the pale lips whispered, as Morris sat down besidehim. "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 movingupon me all the day, driving out my bitterness toward you, and causingme to send for you at last. Do you think there is hope for me? I havemuch to be forgiven. "

"Though your sins be as scarlet they shall be white as snow, " Morrisreplied; and then, oh, how earnestly he tried to point that erring manto the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the world, convincinghim that there was hope even for him, and leaving him with theconviction that God would surely finish the good work begun, nor sufferthis soul to be lost which had turned to Him even at the eleventh hour. 

Wilford knew his days were numbered, and he talked freely of it to hisfather and sister the next morning when they came to him. He did not saythat he was ready or willing to die, only that he must, and he askedthem to forget, when he was gone, all that had ever been amiss in him asa son and brother. 

"I was too proud, too selfish, to make others happy, " he said. "Ithought it all over yesterday, and the past came back again so vividly, especially the part connected with Katy. Oh, Katy, I did abuse her!" anda bitter sob attested the genuineness of Wilford's grief for histreatment of Katy. "I thought because I took her from a lower walk oflife than mine, that she was bound by every tie of gratitude to do justwhat I said, and I set myself at work to crush her every feeling andimpulse which savored of her early home. I despised her family, Itreated them with contempt. I broke Katy's heart, and now I must diewithout telling her I am sorry. But you'll tell her, father, and you, too, Bell, how, dying, I tried to pray, but could not for thought of mysin to her. She will not be glad that I am dead. I know her better thanto think that; and I believe she loves me. But, after I am gone, and theduties of the world have closed up the gap I shall leave, I see abrighter future for her than her past has been; and you may tell her Iam--" He could not then 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 itwas of Genevra. Even here he did not try to screen himself. He was theone to blame, he said. Genevra was true, was innocent, as he ascertainedtoo late. 

"Would you like to see her if she were living?" came to Bell's lips, butthe 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. Katywas the one uppermost in his mind, and in the letter Bell sent to herthe next day, he tried to write: "Good-by, my darling, " but the wordswere scarcely legible, and his nerveless hand fell helpless at his sideas he said:

"She will never know the effort it cost me, nor hear me say that I hopeI am forgiven. It came to me last night, the peace for which I've soughtso long, and Dr. Grant has prayed, and now the way is not so dark, butKaty will not know. "

CHAPTER XLVIII. 

LAST HOURS. 

Katy would know, for she was coming to him on the morrow, as a brieftelegram announced, and Wilford's face grew brighter with thoughts ofseeing her. He knew when the train was due, and with nervousrestlessness he asked repeatedly what time it was, reducing the hours tominutes, and counting his own pulses to see if he would last so long. 

"Save me, doctor, " he whispered to Morris. "Keep me alive till Katycomes. I must see Katy again. "

And Morris, tenderer than a brother, did all he could to keep the feeblebreath from going out ere Katy came. 

"I must have clean linen on my bed and on my person, too, " Wilford said, "for Katy is coming, and I must not look repulsive. "

The clean white linen was brought, and when it was arranged a smile ofchildish satisfaction crept around the lips, as Wilford said:

"Katy can kiss me now. She is not accustomed to hospital fare, youknow. "

His mind seemed slightly to wander; but when the hour came for thearrival of the train he knew it, asking, eagerly:

"Do you suppose she's come?" and straining his ear to catch the sound ofthe distant whistle. Dr, Morris had gone to meet her, and the time fledon apace until at last his step was heard, and Wilford, lifting up hishead, listened for that other step, which, alas! was not there. 

"The train is behind time several hours, " was Morris' report, and witha moan Wilford turned away and wept, thinking by some strange chance ofthat day when at the farmhouse others had waited for Katy as he wasdoing, and waited, too, in vain. 

Truly, they of the farmhouse were avenged, for never had they felt sobitter a pang as Wilford did when he knew Katy had not come. 

"It's right, " he said, when he could trust himself to speak; "but I didwant to see her. Tell her I am willing. "

The last seemed wrung from him almost against his will, and drops ofsweat stood thickly upon his brow. Only Bell and her father guessed whathe meant by being willing. Morris had no idea, but he wiped thedeath-sweat away, and said, soothingly:

"Be quiet, and you may see her yet. She will surely come by and by. "

Thus reassured, Wilford grew calm and fell asleep, while the watchers byhis side waited anxiously for the first sound which should herald thearrival of the train. 

 * * * * *

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 andthrough the hall, where, in a corner, Marian Hazelton's white facelooked out upon him, her hands clasped over her heart, and workingnervously as she watched Katy going where she must not go--going to theroom where the Camerons were, the father standing at the foot ofWilford's bed, and Bell bending over his pillow, administering thestimulants which kept her brother alive. When Katy came in, she movedaway, as did her father, while Morris, too, stepped back into the hall, and thus the husband and wife were left alone in this their firstmeeting since the parting at Yonkers nearly one year ago. 

"Katy, precious Katy, you have forgiven me?" he whispered, and the rainof tears and kisses on his face was Katy's answer as she hung over him. 

She had forgiven him like a true, faithful wife, and she told him so, when she found voice to talk, wondering to find him so changed from theproud, exacting, self-worshiping man, to the humble, repentant andself-accusing person, who took all blame of the past to himself, andexonerated her from every fault. But when he drew her close to him, andwhispered something in her ear, she knew whence came the change, and areverent "Thank the Good Father, " dropped from her lips. 

"The way was dark and thorny, " Wilford said, making her sit down wherehe could see her as he talked, "and only for God's goodness I shouldhave lost the path. But he sent one Morris Grant to point the road, andI trust I am in it now. I wanted to see you before I died, to tell youwith my own lips how sorry I am for what I have made you suffer; butsorriest of all for sending Baby away. Oh, Katy, you do not know howthat rested upon my conscience, or how often in my sleep upon the tentedplain or hillside I have felt again the touch of Baby's arms and Baby'scheek against my own as I felt it that day when I came home and took herfrom you. Forgive me, Katy, that I robbed you of your child. "

He was growing very weak, and he looked so white and ghastly that Katycalled for Bell, who came at once, as did her father, and the threestood together around the bedside of the dying, Katy with his cold handin hers, and occasionally bending down to hear his whispered words oflove and deep contrition. 

"You will remember me, Katy, " he said, "but you cannot mourn for mealways, and some time 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 meshould keep you from a life where you will be happier than I have madeyou. "

Wholly bewildered, Katy made no reply, and Wilford was silent a fewmoments, in which he seemed partially asleep. Then rousing up, he said:

"You wrote me 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 ablood-red flush stained Wilford's face, and his thin fingers beat thebedspread thoughtfully. 

"I fancied once that she was here--that she was the nurse the boyspraise so much. But that was a delusion, " he said, and without a thoughtof the result, Katy asked, impetuously: "If she were here would you careto see her?"

There was a startled look on Wilford's face, and he grasped Katy's handnervously, his frame trembling with a dread of the great shock which hefelt impending over him. 

"Is she here? Was the nurse Genevra?" he asked, then as his mind wentback to the past, he answered his own question by asserting: "MarianHazelton 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 allso strange; 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 answerfor. "

Between each word he uttered now there was a gasp for breath, and FatherCameron opened the window wide to admit the cool night air. But nothinghad power to revive him. He was going very fast, Morris said, as he tookhis stand by the bedside and watched the approach of death. There wereno convulsive struggles, only heavy breathings, which grew farther andfarther apart, until at last Wilford drew Katy close to him, and windinghis arm around her neck, whispered:

"I am almost home, my darling, and all is well. Be kind to Genevra formy sake. I loved her once, but not as I love you. "

He never spoke again, and a few minutes later Morris led Katy from theroom, and then went out to give his orders for the embalming of thebody. 

 * * * * *

In the little room she called her own, Marian Hazelton sat, herbeautiful hair disordered, and her eyes dim with the tears she had shed. She knew that Wilford was dead, for Morris had told her so, and as ifhis dying had brought back all her olden love, she wept bitterly for theman who had so darkened her life. She did not know that at the last heknew she was so near. 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 inthat. No one but Morris would know who she was, she thought, and she wasmaking up her mind to go, when there came a timid knock upon the door, and Katy entered, her face very pale, her manner very calm, as she cameto Marian, and kneeling down beside her, laid her head in her lap withthe air of a weary child who has sought its mother for rest. 

"Poor little Katy!" Marian said, caressing her golden hair. "Yourhusband, they tell me, is dead. "

"Yes, " and Katy lifted up her head, and fixing her eves earnestly uponMarian, continued: "Wilford is dead, but before he died he left amessage for Genevra Lambert. Will she hear it now?"

With a sudden start, Marian sprang to her feet, and holding Katy fromher, demanded: "Who told you of Genevra Lambert, and when?"

"Wilford told me months ago, showing me her picture, which I readilyrecognized, " was Katy's answer, and a flush of fear and shame came toMarian's cheek as she continued:

"Did he tell you all? And do you hate me as a vile, polluted creature?"

"Hate you, Marian? No. I have pitied you so much, knowing you wereinnocent. Wilford told me all, but he 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 two women meet bearing to each other the relationsthese two bore, and it is not strange that both felt constrained andembarrassed as they stood looking at each other. As Marian's was thestronger nature, so she was the first to rally, and with the tearsswimming 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, sadlife, but God has helped me bear it. You say he believed me dead. Sometime I will tell you how that came about; but now, his message--he leftone, you say?"

Carefully Katy repeated every word Wilford had said, and with a gaspingcry Marian wound her arms around her neck, exclaiming:

"And you will love me, not because he did once, but because I havesuffered so much? You will let me call you Katy when we are alone? Itbrings you nearer to me. "

Marian was now the weaker of the two, and it was Katy's task to comforther, 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, whileKaty stole quietly out and left her there alone. 

Half an hour later a female form passed hurriedly through the hall andacross the threshold into the chamber where the dead man lay. There wasno one with him now, and Marian was free to weep out the pent-up sorrowof her life, which she did with choking sobs and passionate words pouredinto the ear deaf now to every human sound. A step upon the floorstartled her, and turning around she stood face to face with Wilford'sfather, who was regarding her with a look which she mistook for one ofreproof and displeasure that she should be there thus. 

"Forgive me, " she said, wringing her hands together. "I know how youdespise me, but he was my husband once, and surely now that he is deadyou will not begrudge me a few last moments with him for the sake of thedays when he loved me. "

There were many tender chords in the heart of Father Cameron, andoffering Marian his hand, he said:

"Far be it from me to refuse you this privilege. I pity you, Genevra, for I believe he dealt unjustly by you--but I will not censure him nowthat he is gone. He was my only boy. Oh, Wilford, Wilford. You have leftme very lonely. "

He released her hand, and Marian fled away, meeting next with Bell, whofelt that she must speak to her, but was puzzled what to say. Bell couldnot define her feelings toward Marian, or why she shrank fromapproaching her. It was not pride, but rather a feeling of prejudice, asif Marian were in some way to blame for all the trouble which had cometo them, while her peculiar position as the divorced wife of her brothermade it the more embarrassing. But she could not resist the mutepleading of the eyes lifted so tearfully to her, as if asking fora nod of recognition, and stopping before her she said, softly:

"Genevra. "

That was all, but it made Genevra's tears flow in torrents, and sheinvoluntarily held her hand out to Bell, who took it, and holding itbetween her own, said:

"You were very kind to my brother. I thank you for it, and will tell mymother, who will feel so grateful to you. "

This was a good deal for Bell to say, and after it was said, shehastened away, while Marian went on her daily round of duties, speakingsofter, if possible, to her patients that day, and causing them towonder what had come over that sweet face to make it so white andtear-stained. That night in Marian's room Katy sat and listened to whatshe did not before know of the strange story kept from her so long. Candidly Marian confirmed all Wilford had told, breathing no word ofblame against him now that he was dead, only stating facts, and leavingKaty to draw her own conclusions. Herself she censured much forfostering that fondness for admiration so irritating to a jealous manlike Wilford. 

"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 firstany intention of making him believe that I was dead, and when I sent thepaper containing the announcement of father's death I was not aware thatit also contained the death of my cousin, a beautiful girl just my age, who bore our grandmother's name of Genevra, and about whom and a youngEnglish lord, who had hunted one season in her father's neighborhood, there were some scandalous reports. Afterward it occurred to me thatWilford would see that notice and naturally think it referred to me, inasmuch as he knew nothing of my Cousin Genevra, she having spent muchof her time in the northern part of Scotland, and he never inquiredparticularly about my relatives. 

"It was just as well, I said, I was dead to him, and I took a strangesatisfaction in wondering if he would care. Incidentally I heard thatthe 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 tothe letter was not Wilford Cameron, nor was the writing his, for, as thecousin of the dead Genevra. I asked to see the letter, and my requestwas granted. It was Mrs. Cameron who wrote it, I am sure, at theinstigation, probably, of her son, signing a feigned name and biddingthe postmaster answer to that address. He did so, assuring the inquirerthat Genevra Lambert was buried there, and wondering to me if the youngAmerican who seemed interested in her could have been a lover of theunfortunate girl. 

"I was now alone in the world, for the aunt with whom my childhood waspassed died soon after my father, and so I went at last to learn a tradeon the Isle of Wight, emigrating from thence to New York, with thedetermination in my rebellious heart that some time, when it would cutthe deepest, I would show myself to the proud Camerons, whom I socordially hated. This was before God had found me, or rather before Ihad listened to the still, small voice which took the hard, vindictivefeelings away, and made me feel kindly toward the mother and sisterswhen I saw them, as I often used to do, driving gayly by. Wilford wassometimes with them, and the sight of him always sent the hot bloodsurging through my heart. But the greatest shock I ever had came to mewhen I heard from your sister of his approaching marriage with you. Those were terrible days that I passed at the farmhouse, working on yourbridal _trousseau_; and sometimes I thought it more than I could bear. Had you been other than the little, loving, confiding, trustful girl youwere, I must at some time have disclosed the whole, and told that youwould not be the first who had stood at the altar with Wilford. But pityfor you, whom I knew loved him so much, kept me silent, and you becamehis wife. 

"Of what has happened since you know--except, indeed, how hard it wassometimes for poor, weak human nature to see you as happy as you were atfirst, and then contrast my lot with yours. I loved your baby almost asmuch as if it had been my own, and when it died there was nothing tobind me to the North, and so I came here, where I hope I have done somegood; at least, I was here to care for Wilford, and that is a sufficientreward for all the toil which falls to the lot of a hospital nurse. Ishall stay until the war is ended, and then go I know not where. It willnot be best for us to meet very often, for though we may and do respecteach other, neither can forget the past, or that one was the lawful, the other the divorced, wife of the same man. I have loved you, KatyCameron, for your uniform kindness shown to the poor dressmaker. I shallalways love you, but our paths lie widely apart. Your future I canpredict, but mine God only knows. "

Marian had said all she meant to say, and all Katy came to hear. Thelatter was to leave in the morning, and when they would meet againneither could tell. Few were the parting words they spoke, for the greatcommon sorrow welling up from their hearts; but when at last they saidgood-by, the bond of friendship between them was more strongly cementedthan ever, and Katy long remembered Marian's parting words:

"God bless you, Katy Cameron! You have been a bright sun spot in myexistence since I first knew you, even though you have stirred some ofthe worst impulses of my nature. I am a better woman for having knownyou. God bless you, Katy Cameron!"

CHAPTER XLIX. 

MOURNING. 

The grand funeral which Mrs. Cameron once had planned for Katy was areality at last, but the breathless form lying so cold and still in thedarkened rooms at No. ---- Fifth Avenue was not Katy's, but that of asoldier embalmed--an only son brought back to his father's house amidsadness and tears. They had taken him there rather than to his ownhouse, because it was the wish of his mother, who, however hard andselfish she might be to others, had loved and idolized her son, mourningfor him truly, and forgetting in her grief to care how grand the funeralwas, and feeling only a passing twinge when told that Mrs. Lennox hadcome from Silverton to pay the last tribute of respect to her lateson-in-law. Some little comfort it was to have her boy lauded as afaithful soldier and to hear the commendations lavished upon him duringthe time he lay in state, with his uniform around him; but when thewhole was over, and in the gray of the wintry afternoon her husbandreturned from burying his son, there came over her a feeling of suchdesolation as she had never known--a feeling which drove her at last tothe little room upstairs, where sat a lonely man, his head bowed uponhis hands, and his tears dropping silently upon the hearthstone as he, too, thought of the vacant parlor below and the new-made grave atGreenwood. 

"Oh, husband, comfort me, for our only boy is dead, " fell from her lipsas she tottered to her husband, who opened his arms to receive her, forgetting all the years which had made her the cold, proud woman, whoneeded no sympathy, and remembering only that bright, green summer whenshe was first his bride, and came to him for comfort in every littlegrievance, 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 herpride and deception concerning Genevra, Wilford might never have gone tothe war, or they been without a son. He did not reproach her at all, butsoothed her tenderly, calling her even by her maiden name, and awkwardlysmoothing her hair, silvered now with gray, feeling for a moment thatWilford had not died in vain, if by his dying he gave back to his fatherthe wife so lost during the many years since fashion and folly had beenthe idols she worshiped. But the habits of years could not be lightlybroken, and Mrs. Cameron's mind soon became absorbed in the richness ofher mourning, and the strict etiquette of her mourning days. To Katy shewas very kind, caressing her with unwonted affection, and scarcelysuffering her to leave her sight, much less to stay even for a day atMrs. Banker's, where Katy secretly preferred to be. Of Genevra, too, shetalked with Katy, and at her instigation wrote a friendly letter, thanking Miss Lambert for all her kindness to her son, expressing hersorrow that she had ever been so unjust to her, and sending her ahandsome locket, containing on one side a lock of Wilford's hair, and onthe other his picture, taken from a large-sized photograph. Mrs. Cameronfelt herself a very good woman after she had done all this, togetherwith receiving Mrs. Lennox at her own house, and entertaining her forone whole day; but at heart there was no real change, and as time passedon she gradually fell back into her old ways of thinking, and went nomore for comfort to her husband as she had on that first night after theburial. 

With Mr. Cameron the blow struck deeper, and his Wall Street friendstalked together of the old man he had grown since Wilford died, whileKaty often found him bending over his long-neglected Bible, as he satalone in his room at night. And when at last she ventured to speak tohim upon the all-important subject, like a little child, he put his handin hers, and bade her teach him the narrow way which she had found, andwherein Wilford, too, had walked at the very last, they hoped. 

For many weeks Katy lingered in New York, and the June roses wereblooming when she went back to Silverton, a widow and the rightful ownerof 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 wasmade his heiress, without condition or stipulation. All was hers to dowith as she pleased, and the bitterest tears she ever shed were thosewhich fell like rain when she heard how generous Wilford had been. Then, as she thought of Marian, and the life of poverty before her, she creptto 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. Itwas not just, he said; but he did not object to a few thousand going toher, and before Katy left New York for Silverton, she wrote a long, kindletter to Marian, presenting her with ten thousand dollars, which shebegged 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 theletter, a feeling that she could not take so much from Katy; but whenshe looked at the pale sufferers around her, and remembered how manywretched hearts that money would help to cheer, she said:

"I will keep it. "

CHAPTER L. 

PRISONERS OF WAR. 

The heat, the smoke, the thunder of the battle were over, and the fieldsof Gettysburg, where the terrible three days' fight had been, weredrenched with human blood and covered with the dead and dying. Thecontest had been fearful, and its results carried sorrow and anguish tomany a heart waiting for tidings from the war, and looking so anxiouslyfor the names of the loved ones who, on the anniversary of the day whichsaw our nation's independence, lay upon the hills and plains ofGettysburg, their white faces upturned to the summer sky, and wet withthe raindrops which like tears for the noble dead the pitying clouds hadshed upon them. And nowhere, perhaps, was there a whiter face or a moreanxious heart than at the farmhouse, where both Helen and hermother-in-law were spending the hot July days. Since the Christmas Evewhen Helen had watched her husband going from her across the wintrysnow, he had not been back, though several times he had madearrangements to do so. Something, however, had always happened toprevent. 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 wassent on with others to repel the invaders from Pennsylvania soil. Bravely through each disappointment Helen bore herself, but her cheekalways grew paler and her eye darker in its hue when the evening paperscame, and she read what progress our soldiers had made, feeling that abattle was inevitable, and praying so earnestly that Mark Ray might bespared. Then when the battle was over, and up the Northern hills camethe dreadful story of thousands and thousands slain, there was a fearfullook in her eyes, and her features were rigid as marble, while thequivering lips could scarcely pray for the great fear tugging at herheart. Mark Ray was not with his men when they came from that terrificonslaught. A dozen had seen him fall, struck down by a rebel ball, andthat was all she heard for more than a week, when there came anotherrelay 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 apartmentwhere his men were confined. As an officer, he was entitled to betterquarters than the filthy pen where the poor privates were, but Mark Rayhad a large, warm heart, and he would not desert those who had been sofaithful to him, and so he took their fare, and by his genial humor andunwavering cheerfulness kept many a heart from fainting and made theprisoners' life more bearable than it could have been without him. Toyoung Tom Tubbs, who had enlisted six months before, he was aministering angel, and many times the poor, homesick boy crept to theside of his captain, and laying his burning head in his lap, wepthimself to sleep and dreamed he was at home again. The horrors of thatprison life have never been told, but Mark bore up manfully, sufferingless in mind, perhaps, than did the friends at home, who lived, as itwere, a thousand years in that one brief summer while he languished inthat horrid den whose very name had a power to send a thrill of fear toevery heart. 

At last, as the frosty days of October came on, they began to hope hemight be exchanged, and Helen's face grew bright again, until one daythere came a soiled, half-worn letter, in Mark's own handwriting. It wasthe first word received from him since his capture in July, and with acry of joy Helen snatched it from Uncle Ephraim, for she was still atthe farmhouse, and sitting down upon the doorstep just where she hadbeen standing, read the words which Mark had sent to her. He saidnothing of the treatment he received, for he wanted the letter to reachher, and he knew well that if he complained the chances were small forthe missive ever to leave the capital of the "chivalry. " He was verywell, he said, and had been all the time, but he pined for home, longingfor the dear girl-wife never so dear as now, when separated by so manymiles, with prison walls on every side, and an enemy's line betweenthem. 

"But be of good cheer, darling, " he wrote. "I shall come back to yousome time, and life will he all the brighter for what you suffer now. Iam so glad my darling consented to be my wife, even though I could staywith her but a moment. The knowing you are really mine makes me happyeven here, for I think of you by day, and in my dreams I always hold youin my arms and press you to my heart. "

Far different from this cheerful letter was the one which Tom inclosedin it for his family--a wild, homesick outburst, containing so much oftruth that it was strange it was ever permitted to leave the city. Ofthis letter Helen heard by way of Mattie Tubbs, and hope died withinher, especially as Tom spoke of their being sent further South as aprobable event. 

"If Mark goes I shall never see him again, " Helen said, despairingly;and when at last the message came that Mark had been removed, and that, too, just at the time when an exchange was constantly expected, she gavehim 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 ofthe inhuman treatment of our men, daily dying by hundreds, while thosewho survived the cruelties were reduced to maniacs and imbeciles. AndHelen, as she listened, grew nearly frantic with the sickening suspense. She did not know now where her husband was. He had made several attemptsto escape, and with each failure had been removed to safer quarters, sothat the chances now of his being exchanged seemed very far away. Weekafter week, month after month, passed on, until came the memorablebattle of the Wilderness, when Lieutenant Bob, as yet unharmed, stoodbravely in the thickest of the fight, his tall figure towering above therest, and his soldier's uniform buttoned over a dark tress of hair, anda face like Bell Cameron's, Lieutenant Bob had taken two or threefurloughs, but the one which had left the sweetest, pleasantest memoryin his heart was that of the autumn before, when the crimson leaves ofthe maple and the golden tints of the beech were burning themselves outon the hills of Silverton, where his furlough was mostly passed, andwhere, with Bell Cameron, he scoured the length and breadth of UncleEphraim's farm, now stopping by the shore of Fairy Pond and againsitting for hours on a ledge of rocks far up the hill, where, beneaththe softly-whispering pines nodding above their heads, Bell gathered thelight brown cones, and said to him the words he had so thirsted to hear:

"I love you, Robert Reynolds. "

Much of Bell's time was passed with Katy at the farmhouse, and hereLieutenant Reynolds found her, accepting readily of Uncle Ephraim'shearty invitation to remain; and spending his entire vacation there, with the exception of three days given to his family. Perfectly charmedwith quaint Aunt Betsy, whom he remembered so well, he flattered andcourted her almost as much as he did Bell, but did not take her with himin his long rambles over the hills, or sit with her at night alone inthe parlor until the clock struck twelve--a habit which Aunt Betsygreatly 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 stoodout prominently before him, whether sitting by his camp-fire or plunginginto the battle, and that the one when, casting aside all pride andfoolish theories, Bell Cameron freely acknowledged her love for the manto whom she had been so long engaged, and paid him back the kisses shehad before refused to give. 

"I shall be a better soldier for this, " Robert had said, as he guidedher down the steep of rocks, and with her hand in his, walked slowlyback to the farmhouse, which, on the morrow, he left to take again hisplace in the army. 

There were no more furloughs for him after that, and the winter passedaway, bringing the spring again, when came that battle in theWilderness, and like a hero he fought until, becoming separated from hiscomrades, he fell into the enemy's hands, and two days after there spedalong the telegraphic wires to New York:

"Lieutenant Robert Reynolds captured the first day of the battle. "

Afterward there 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 beingburned, as some of the poor wretches were, " Juno said, trying to comfortBell, who doubted a little her sister's word. 

True, there was now the shadow of a hope that he might survive thehorrors, the mere recital of which made the strongest heart shiver withdread; but the probabilities were all against it, and Bell's face grewalmost as white as Helen's, while her eyes acquired that restless, watchful, anxious look which has crept into the eyes of so manysorrowing women, looking away to the southward, where the dear ones werelanguishing in the filthy rebel holes, unworthy the name of prison. 

CHAPTER LI. 

DR. GRANT. 

Morris had served out his time as surgeon in the army, had added to itan extra six months, and by his humanity, his skill and Christiankindness, made for himself a name which would be long remembered by theliving to whom he had ministered so carefully, while many a dyingsoldier had blessed him for pointing out the way which leadeth to thelife everlasting, and in many a mourning family his name was a householdword for the good he had done to a dying son and brother. But Morris'hospital work was over. He had gone a little too far, incurring too muchrisk, until his own strength had failed from long-continued toil, andnow in the month of June, when Linwood was bright with the early summerblossoms, he was coming back, with health greatly impaired and a darkcloud before his vision, so that he could not see how beautiful his homewas looking, or gaze into the faces of those who waited so anxiously towelcome again their beloved physician. Blind, some said he was, but thefew lines sent to Helen announcing the day of his arrival contradictedthat report. His eyes were very much diseased, his amanuensis wrote, buthe trusted that the pure air of his native hills and the influence ofold scenes and associations would soon effect a cure. If not too muchtrouble, he added, please see that the house is made comfortable, andhave John meet me on Friday at the station. 

Helen had just returned from New York, where she could not remain anylonger, for the scenes of gayety in which she was sometimes compelled tomingle were utterly distasteful to her, and she longed for the seclusionof the farmhouse and the quiet there is among the hills. She was gladMorris was coming home, for he always did her good; he could comfort herbetter than any other, unless it were Katy, whose loving, gentle wordsof hope were very soothing to her. 

"Poor Morris!" she sighed, as she finished his letter, and then took itto the family sitting upon the pleasant piazza, which, at Katy's expenseand her own, had been added to the house, overlooking Fairy Pond and thepleasant hills beyond. 

"Morris is coming home, " she said, as Aunt Betsy asked: "What news?" "Hewill be here on Friday, and he wishes us to see that all things are inorder at Linwood for his reception. His eyes are badly diseased, but heis not blind, and he hopes that coming back to us will cure him, " sheadded, glancing aside at Katy, who sat upon a step of the piazza, herhands folded together upon her lap and her blue eyes looking far offinto the fading sunset, just as Evangeline sits looking down theMississippi River. 

When she heard Morris' name she turned her head a little, so that theripple of her golden hair was more distinctly visible beneath the silkennet she wore, and a deep tinge of red dyed her cheeks; but she made nocomment or showed by any sign that she heard what they were saying. Katywas very lovely and consistent in her young widowhood, and not a whisperof gossip had the Silvertonians coupled with her name since she came tothem, leaving her husband in Greenwood. There had been no parading ofher grief before the public or assumption of greater sorrow than manyothers 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 herdeep mourning weeds, except the widow's cap, which, at her mother's andAunt Betsy's earnest solicitations, she had laid aside, substituting inits place a simple net, which confined her waving hair and kept it frombreaking out in flowing curls, as it was disposed to do. Against thisfashion Aunt Betsy also inveighed. 

"Couldn't a body curl their hair when nater intended it to curl, andmourn a-plenty, too?" For her part, she believed it people's duty tolook as well as they could, mournin' or not mournin', and Katy couldn'tlook much wus' than she did, with her hair shoved back under that net, unless it was when she wore that heathenish cap, which made her look solike a grandmother. 

This was Aunt Betsy's opinion, but to others there was somethingsingularly sweet and beautiful in the childish face, from which thegolden hair was brushed back so plainly, waving softly about theforehead, and occasionally escaping from its confinement in a gracefulcurl, which Katy suffered to remain for Aunt Betsy's sake. Katy hadnever been prettier than she was now, in her mature womanhood, and tothe poor and sorrowful, whose homes she cheered so often, she was anangel 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 itcame in contact. 

They would miss her at the farmhouse now far more than they did when shefirst went away, for she made the sunshine of their home, fillingHelen's place when she was in New York, and when she came back provingto her a stay and comforter. Indeed, but for Katy's presence, Helenoften felt that she could not endure the sickening suspense and doubtwhich hung so darkly over her husband's fate. 

"He is alive; he will come back, " Katy always said, and from her perfectfaith, Helen, too, caught a glimpse of hope. 

Could they have forgotten Mark they would have been happy at thefarmhouse now, for with the budding spring and blossoming summer, Katy'sspirits had returned, and her old, musical laugh rang often through thehouse just as it used to do in the happy days of girlhood, while thesame silvery voice which led the chair in the brick church, and sangwith the little children their Sunday hymns, often broke forth intosnatches of songs, which made even the robins listen, as they builttheir nests in the trees; while Uncle Ephraim, far from condemning thislightness of spirits, thanked God, who had brought his darling safelythrough the cloud to where the sun was shining. 

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 memoryrequired her to forget, or, at least, avoid the man who had soinnocently come between them; and when she heard he was coming home shefelt more pain than sorrow. She liked going up to Linwood, as she oftendid. Its quiet seclusion, and the beauty of its grounds suited hertaste, and she often passed hours in the pleasant summer house, or onthe broad piazza, dreaming sometimes of the past, and sometimes, it mustbe confessed, dreaming of a future, and wondering what it would bringher when Mark came back, as come he would, and Helen was gone for good. She would be very lonely with people so much older than herself, and whodid not understand the different tastes and ways of thinking which shehad acquired. She was very happy at the farmhouse, it is true, and lovedits inmates with a deep, unselfish love, but Helen's frequent absencesfrom home showed her that even the farmhouse could be dreary with nocongenial spirit to sympathize with her as Helen did. 

Matters were in this state when news came of Morris' intended return, and Katy, sitting on the piazza step, and gazing dreamily into thecrimson clouds piled against the western sky, seemed not to hear whather sister was saying. She did hear, however, and the blood leaped moreswiftly through her veins for a moment, as she thought of Morris atLinwood just as he used to be. But when she remembered Wilford's words, "He confessed to me that he loved you, " she felt only a nervous dread ofMorris' coming, and forthwith set to work to fortify herself at everypoint with a stricture of reserve which she was far from feeling. 

The day of his return was balmy and beautiful as the days of June areapt to be, and at an early hour Helen went over to Linwood to see thateverything was in order for his arrival. 

"Mrs. Hull will have dinner waiting for him, and I shall stay, " shesaid to Katy, adding: "I wish you would come over, too. Morris will feelgrateful, I know. "

Katy did not reply, but struck softly the chords of the piano andthought how foolish she was to feel as she did. Suppose Morris had lovedher once, he probably did not now, and even if he did, it could do nogood, for she was the same as dead to all that kind of thing. She hadtried matrimony, and found it--she did not say what. She never allowedherself to think an unkind thing of Wilford if she could help it, but atear dropped upon the piano keys as she unconsciously hummed a part ofthe song commencing "I would not, no, I would not, recall the pastagain, for mingled with the pleasure was too much grief and pain. "

Katy's tears were falling fast by the time the song was ended, but shedashed them away and sprang from the stool, exclaiming:

"Crying because Morris is coming home, poor, worn-out, half-blindMorris, who has done so much for the soldiers, I will go up and welcomehim. I will not be so silly as to imagine he still retains a fancy foran old woman of twenty-three, even if he had one for the girl ofseventeen. "

Katy felt very old just then, and walking to the glass, was almost vexedat the smooth, round face which met her view. 

"I ought to look older at twenty-three, " she said. "Morris will thinkI have not mourned a bit, nor cared for Wilford, " and another tearglistened on her eyelashes as she thought of being accused offorgetfulness of the dead. 

Katy did look very young for twenty-three. Her health was perfect now, and save as the change in her character showed itself upon her face, shehad scarcely changed at all since the day when she came home fromCanandaigua with her heart and head so full of him who now lay sleepingin Greenwood. 

"I know what's the matter. It's the net, " she said, frowningdisapprovingly upon the silken meshes which confined her hair. "Yes, it's nothing but this net which makes me look so young. Every schoolgirlwears one, and I have followed the fashion, letting it hang down myback in a way very unbecoming to a widow of my age. I'll take it off, orat all events I won't wear it to Linwood, " and tossing aside theoffending net, Katy bound her luxuriant hair in bands which she coiledaround the back of her head and then put on the widow's cap, discardedso many months, and from which she shrank a little as she surveyedherself in the glass. 

It was not exactly unbecoming; nothing could be unbecoming to that fair, open face, which, surrounded by the white border, looked much like asweet baby's face, except that it was older; but it was now so longsince Katy had seen anything of the kind, and as habit is everything, she was not quite as well pleased with her headgear as in New York, where such things were common. Nevertheless, she would wear it toLinwood, and she went for her round straw hat, but, alas, the sun hatwhich made her look so frightfully young was not made for the widow'scap, and casting it aside, Katy threw a thick black veil over her head, and then stepping to the door of the room where her mother and AuntBetsy were busy at work, she said:

"I am going to Linwood, and shall stay there to dinner. "

"In the name of the people, what has the child rigged herself out inthat shape for?" Aunt Betsy exclaimed, letting fall the knife with whichshe was chopping cheese curd, and staring in astonishment. "I'd enoughsight rather you'd frizzle your hair over rats, as Helen does, makingherself look like some horned critter, than wear that heathenish thing. Why do you do it, Catherine?"

Catherine could not tell her, and laughing merrily at her aunt'sanimadversions against her own and Helen's style of hairdressing, shehurried away across the fields to Linwood. Aunt Betsy's surprise was ina measure shared by Helen, who, understanding Katy better, made nocomments on her appearance, but smiled quietly at the air of matronlydignity which Katy had assumed, and which really sat so prettily uponher as she went from room to room to see what had been done, lingeringlongest in Morris' own apartment, opening from the library, where shemade some alterations in the arrangement of the furniture, putting onechair a little more to the right, and pushing a stand or table to theleft, just as her artistic eye dictated. By some oversight, no flowershad been put in there, but Katy gathered an exquisite bouquet and leftit on the mantel, just where she remembered to have seen flowers whenMorris was at home. 

"He will he tired, " she said. "He will lie down after dinner, " and shelaid a few sweet English violets upon the pillow, thinking their perfumemight 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 shestole softly out and shut the door behind her, glancing next at theclock, and feeling a little impatient that a whole hour must elapsebefore they could expect him. 

Poor Morris! he did not dream how anxiously he was waited for at home, nor yet of the crowd assembled at the depot to welcome back the lovedphysician, whom they had missed so much, and whose name they had sooften heard coupled with praise as a true hero, even though his post wasnot in the front of the battle. Thousands had been cared for by him, their gaping wounds dressed skillfully, their aching heads soothedtenderly, and their last moments made happier by the words he spoke tothem of the world to which they were going, where there is no more waror shedding of man's blood. In the churchyard at Silverton there werethree soldiers' graves, whose pale occupants had each died with Dr. Grant's hand held tightly in his, as if afraid that he would leave thembefore the dark river was crossed, while in more than one Silverton homethere was a wasted form on which the soldier coat hung loosely, whonever tired of telling Dr. Morris' praise and dwelling on his goodness. But Dr. Morris was not thinking of this as, faint and sick, with thegreen shade before his eyes, he leaned against the pile of shawls hiscompanion had placed for his back and wondered if they were almostthere. 

"I smell the pond lilies; we must he near Silverton, " he said, and asigh escaped his lips as he thought of coming home and not being able tosee it or the woods and fields around it. "Thy will be done, " he hadsaid many times since the fear first crept into his heart that for himthe light had faded. 

But now, when home was almost reached, and he began to breathe the airfrom the New England hills and the perfume of the New England lilies, the flesh rebelled again, and he cried out within himself: "Oh, I cannotbe blind! God will not deal thus by me!" while keen as the cut of asharpened knife was the pang with which he thought of Katy, and wonderedwould she care if he were blind. 

Just then the long train stopped at Silverton, and, led by hisattendant, he stepped feebly into the crowd, which sent up deafeningcheers 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, offeringtheir hands and inquiring anxiously how he was. 

"I have been sick, but I shall get better now. The very sound of yourfriendly voices does me good, even though I cannot see you distinctly, "he said, as he went slowly to his carriage, led now by Uncle Ephraim, who could not keep back his tears as he saw how weak Morris was, pantingfor breath as he leaned back among the cushions. 

It was very pleasant that afternoon, and Morris enjoyed the drive somuch, assuring Uncle Ephraim that he was growing better every moment. Hedid seem stronger when at last the carriage stopped at Linwood, and hisstep was more rapid as he went up the steps where Helen, Katy and Mrs. Hull were waiting for him. He could not see them sufficiently todistinguish one from the other, but even without the aid of her voice hewould have known when Katy's hand was put in his, it was so small, sosoft, and trembled so as he held it. Her cap had been worn for nothing, nor did she think of it in her sorrow at finding him so helpless. Pitywas the strongest feeling of which she was conscious, and it manifesteditself in various ways. 

"Let me lead you, Cousin Morris, " she said, as she saw him groping hisway to his room, and without waiting for his reply, she held his handagain in hers and led him to his room, where the sweet English violetswere. 

"I used to lead you, Katy, " Morris said, as he took his seat by thewindow, "and I little thought then that you would one day return thecompliment. It is very hard to be blind. "

The tone of his voice was inexpressibly sad, but his smile was ascheerful as ever as his face turned toward Katy, who could not answerfor 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 theshadow resting so darkly on himself. When dinner was over and the sunbegan to decline, many of his former friends came in, but he looked sopale and weary that they did not tarry long, and when the last one wasgone, Morris was led back to his room, which he did not leave againuntil the summer was over and the luscious fruits of September wereripening upon the trees. 

Toward the middle of July, Helen, whose health was suffering from herrestless anxiety concerning Mark, was taken by Mrs. Banker to Nahant, where Mark's sister, Mrs. Ernst, was spending the summer, and thus onKaty alone fell the duty of paying to Morris those little acts ofsisterly attentions such as no other member of the family knew how topay. 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 dayfound her at Linwood, sometimes bathing Morris' inflamed eyes, sometimesbringing 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 sleepand dream it was an angel there with him. 

"My eyes are getting better, " he said to her one day toward the latterpart of August, when she came as usual to his room. "I knew last nightthat Mrs. Hull's dress was blue, and I saw the sun shine through theshutters. Soon, very soon, I hope to see you, Katy, and know if you havechanged. "

She was standing close by him, and as he talked he raised his hand as ifto rest it on her head, but, with a sudden movement, Katy eluded thetouch, and stepped a little farther from him. 

She did not go to Linwood the next day, nor the next; and when she wentagain there was in her manner a shade more of dignity, which had bothamused and interested Morris. He did not know for certain that Wilfordhad told Katy of the confession made that memorable night when herrecovery seemed so doubtful, but he more than half suspected it from theshyness of her manner and from the various excuses she now made for notcoming to Linwood every day, as she had heretofore done. 

"You do not need me as much as you did, " she said to him one morning inSeptember, when he complained of his loneliness, and told how he hadwaited for her the previous day until night shut down, and he knew shewould not come. "You can see better than you did. You are able to sit upall day, and walk about a little, so if I come I am not needed, " andseating herself at a respectful distance from him, Katy folded her whitehands demurely over her black dress, after having first adjusted the capworn constantly since the time when she learned that Morris' sight wasimproving. 

"I sometimes think I need you more than I did then, and if you must stayaway now, I am ungrateful enough to wish you had not come at all, "Morris replied, and Katy's cheeks burned crimson as she felt that thedim eyes, seen through the green shades, were trying to study her asthey had not studied her before. "What is that on your head?" Morrisasked, rather abruptly. "I have tried to make it out, wondering if itwere a handkerchief, and why it was worn. "

"It is my cap--the widow's cap--worn for Wilford's sake, " was the reply, which silenced Morris for that time, making him feel that between KatyLennox, the girl, and Katy Cameron, the widow, there was a vastdifference, and awakening in his heart a fear lest Wilford Cameron deadshould prove as strong a rival as Wilford living had been. 

In his great pity for Katy when she was first a widow, Morris hadscarcely 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 monthsand the year went by, and he heard constantly from Helen of Katy'sincreasing cheerfulness, it was not in his nature never to think of whatmight be, and more than once he had prayed that, if consistent with hisFather's will, that the woman he had loved so well should be his yet. Ifnot, he could go his way alone, just as he had always done, knowingthat it was right. 

Such was the state of Morris' mind when he returned from Washington, butnow it was somewhat different. The weary weeks of sickness, during whichKaty had ministered to him so kindly, had not been without their effect, and if Morris had loved the frolicsome, childlike Katy Lennox much, heloved far more the gentle, beautiful woman whose character had been sowonderfully developed by suffering, and who was now far more worthy ofhis love than in her early girlhood. 

"I cannot lose her now, " was the thought constantly in Morris' mind, ashe experienced more and more how desolate were the days which did notbring her to him. "It is twenty months, just, since Wilford died; andGeorge Washington asked Martha Custis for her hand within less time thanthat after her husband's death, " he said to himself one wet Octoberafternoon, when he sat listening dreamily to the patter of the rainfalling upon the windows, and looking occasionally across the fields tothe farmhouse, in the vain hope of spying in the distance the littleairy form, which, in its waterproof and cloud, had braved worse stormsthan this at the time he was so ill. 

But no such figure appeared. He hardly expected it would, but he watchedthe pathway just the same, and the smoke wreaths rising so high abovethe farmhouse. The deacon burned out his chimney that day, and Morris, whose sight had greatly improved of late, knew it by the dense, blackvolume of smoke, mingled with rings of fire, which rose above the roof, remembering so well another rainy day, twenty years ago, when thedeacon's chimney was cleaned, and a little, toddling girl, in scarletgown and white pinafore, had amused herself with throwing into theblazing fire upon the hearth a straw at a time, almost upsetting herselfwith standing so far back and making such efforts to reach the flames. Agreat deal had passed since then. The little girl in the pinafore hadbeen both wife and mother. She was a widow now, and Morris glancedacross his hearth toward the empty chair he had never seen inimagination filled by any but herself. 

Surely, she would some day be his own, and leaning his head upon thecane he carried, he prayed earnestly for the good he coveted, keepinghis head down so long that, until it had left the strip of woods andemerged into the open fields, he did not see the figure, wrapped inwaterproof and hood, with a huge umbrella over its head and a basketupon 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. Ithad been baking day at the farmhouse, and remembering how much Morrisused to love her custards, Aunt Betsy had prepared him some, which shewarranted to "melt in his mouth, " and then 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 andglance at the lowering sky. "You can wear your waterproof boots and myshaker, 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 AuntBetsy's shaker, which being large of the kind, and capeless, too, wasnot the most becoming headgear a woman could wear. With the basket ofcustards, and cup of jelly she made herself, Katy finally started forth, Aunt Betsy saying to her, as in the door she stopped to take up herdress: "It must he dretful lonesome for Morris to-day. S'posin' you stayto supper with him, and when it's growin' dark I'll come over for you. You'll find the custards fust-rate. "

Katy did not think it very probable that she should stay to tea withMorris, but she made no reply, and walked away, while Aunt Betsy wentback 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, justfitted to each other, to live apart when they might be so happy, withHannah, and Lucy, and me, close by, to see to 'em, and allus make theirsoap, and see to the butcherin', besides savin' peneryle and catnip forthe children, if there was any. "

Aunt Betsy had turned matchmaker in her old age, and day and night sheplanned how to bring about the match between Morris and Katy. That theywere made for each other she had no doubt. From something which Heleninadvertantly let fall she had guessed that Morris wanted Katy prior toher marriage with Wilford. She had suspected as much before, she wassure of it now, and straightway put her wits at work "to make it go, " asshe expressed it. But Katy was too shy to suit her, and since Morris'convalescence had stayed too much from Linwood. To-day, however, AuntBetsy "felt it in her bones" that, if properly managed, something wouldhappen, and the custards were but the means to the desired end. With nosuspicion whatever of the good dame's intentions, Katy picked her way toLinwood, and leaving her damp garments in the hall, lest Morris shouldtake cold, went at once into the library, where he was sitting near to alarge chair kept sacred for her, his face looking unusually cheerful, and the room unusually pleasant, with the bright wood fire on thehearth. She knew he was glad she had come, that he thought more of herbeing there than of the custards she brought him. 

"I have been so lonely, with no company but the rain, " he said, pushingthe chair a little toward her, and bidding her sit near the fire, whereshe could dry her feet. 

Katy obeyed, and sat down so near to him that had he chose he might havetouched her head, which this day was minus cap, or even net, the goldenhair combed back and fastened in heavy coils low down on her neck, giving to her a very girlish appearance, as Morris thought, for he couldsee her now, and while she dried her feet he looked at her eagerly, wondering that the fierce storm she had encountered had left so fewtraces 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 inher early girlhood, and far more beautiful, just as her character waslovelier, and more to be admired. 

Morris had done well to wait if he could win her now. Perhaps he thoughtso, too, and this was why his spirits became so gay as he kept talkingto her, suggesting at last that she should stay to tea. The rain wasfalling 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 teatime, Morris at once rang for Mrs. Hull, and ordered that tea be servedin there as soon as possible. 

"I ought not to stay. It is not proper, and my cap at home, too, " Katykept thinking as she fidgeted in her chair, and watched the girlsetting the table so cosily for two, and occasionally deferring somedebatable point to her as if she were mistress there. 

"Shall we have some thin slices of cold chicken to go with the jelly?"she asked, looking at Katy, who answered in the affirmative, wishing shewas at home, and deploring again the absence of her cap. 

"You can go now, Reekie, " Morris said, when the boiling water was pouredinto the silver kettle, and tea was on the table. "If we need you wewill ring. "

With a vague wonder as to who would toast the doctor's bread and butterit, Reekie departed, and the two were left together. It was Katy whotoasted the bread, kneeling upon the marble hearth, nearly blisteringher hands, burning her face and scorching the bread in her nervousnessat the novel position in which she so unexpectedly found herself. It wasKaty, too, who prepared Morris' tea, and tried to eat, but could not. She was not hungry, she said, and the custard was the only thing shetasted, besides the tea, which she sipped at frequent intervals, so asto make Morris think she was eating more than she was. But Morris wasnot deceived, nor yet disheartened. Possibly she suspected hisintention, and if so, the sooner he reached the point the better. Sowhen the tea equipage was put away, and she began again to speak ofgoing 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 himand listen while he told her the love he had borne for her long beforeshe knew the meaning of that word as she knew it now--of the struggle tokeep that love in bounds after its indulgence was a sin, of histemptations and victories, of his sincere regret for Wilford, and of hisdeep respect for her grief, which made her for a time as a sister tohim. But that time had passed. She was not his sister now, nor evercould be again. She was Katy, dearer, more precious, more desired eventhan before another called her wife, and he asked her to be his, to comeup 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 ofcaring 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 thisquestion, just as there was a world of tenderness in the manner in whichMorris smoothed and caressed and fondled the bowed head resting on thechair arm. And Katy felt it all, understanding what it was to be offeredsuch a love as Morris offered, but only comprehending in part what itwould be to refuse that love. For, alas! her blinded judgment said shemust refuse it. Had there been no sad memories springing from that gravein Greenwood, no bitter reminiscences connected with her marriedlife--had Wilford never heard of Morris' love and taunted her with it sooften, she might perhaps consent, for she craved the rest there would bewith Morris to lean upon. But the happiness was too great for her toaccept. It would seem too much like faithlessness to Wilford, too muchas if he had been right when he charged her with preferring Morris tohimself. 

"It cannot be--oh, Morris, it cannot be, " she sobbed, when he pressedher for answer. "Don't ask me why--don't ever mention it again, for Itell you it cannot be. My answer is final; it cannot be. I am sorry foryou, 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 risingto her feet left the room suddenly, and throwing on her wrappings, quitted the house without another word, leaving basket and umbrellabehind, and never knowing she had left them, or how the rain was pouringdown upon her unsheltered person until, as she entered the narrow stripof woodland, she was met by Aunt Betsy, who exclaimed at seeing her, andasked:

"What has become of your umberell? Your silk one, too. It's hopeful youhaven't lost it. What has happened you?" and coming closer to Katy, AuntBetsy looked searchingly in her face. It was not so dark that she couldnot see the traces of recent tears, and instinctively suspecting theirnature, she continued: "Catherine, 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 heraunt's great anxiety for her to visit Linwood that afternoon. 

"Morris had nothing to do with it, " Aunt Betsy replied. "It was mydoin's wholly, and this is the thanks I git. You quarrel with him andgit mad at me, who thought only of your good. Catherine, you know youlike 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 beunjust to Wilford. "

"Unjust to Wilford--fiddlesticks!" was Aunt Betsy's expressive reply, asshe started on toward Linwood, saying she was going after the umberellbefore it got lost, with nobody there to tend to things as they shouldbe tended to. "Have you any word to send?" she asked, hoping Katy hadrelented. 

But Katy had not; and with a toss of her head, which shook the raindropsfrom her capeless shaker, Aunt Betsy went on her way, and was soonconfronting Morris, sitting just where Katy had left him, and lookingvery pale and sad. 

He was not glad to see Aunt Betsy. He would rather be alone until suchtime as he could control himself and still his throbbing heart. But withhis usual affability, he bade Aunt Betsy sit down, shivering a littlewhen he saw her in the chair where Katy had sat, her thin, angular bodypresenting a striking contrast to the graceful, girlish figure which hadsat there an hour since, and the huge India rubbers she held up to thefire as unlike as possible to the boot of fairy dimensions he hadadmired so much when it was drying on the hearth. 

"I met Catherine, " Aunt Betsy began, "and mistrusted at once thatsomething was to pay, for a girl don't leave her umberell in such a rainand go cryin' home for nothin'. "

Morris colored, resenting for an instant this interference by a thirdparty; but Aunt Betsy was so honest and simple-hearted that he could notbe angry long, and listened calmly while she continued:

"I have not lived sixty-odd years for nothing, and I know the signspretty well. I've been through the mill myself. "

Here Aunt Betsy's voice grew lower in its tone, and Morris looked upwith real interest, while she went on:

"There's Joel Upham--you know Joel--keeps a tin shop now, and seats thefolks in meetin'. He asked me once for my company, and to be smart Itold him 'no, ' when all the time I meant 'yes, ' thinkin' he would askag'in, but he didn't, and the next I knew he was keepin' company withPatty Adams, now his wife. I remember I sniveled a little at being takenat my word, but it served me right for saying one thing when I meantanother. However, it don't matter now. Joel is as clever as the day islong, but he is a shiftless critter, never splits his kindlin's tilljest 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 thewhole, I'm better off than Patty. "

Morris laughed a loud, hearty laugh, which did him good, and emboldenedhis visitor to say more than she had intended saying:

"You just ask her ag'in. Once ain't nothing at all, and she'll come to. She likes you; 'tain't that which made her say no. It's some foolishidea about faithfulness to Wilford, as if he deserved that she should befaithful. They never orto have had one another--never; and now that heis well in heaven, as I do suppose he is, it ain't I who hanker for himto come back. Neither does Katy, and all she needs is a little urging totell you yes. So ask her again, will you?"

"I think it very doubtful. Katy knew what she was doing, and meant whatshe said, " Morris replied; and with the consoling remark that if youngfolks 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 basketand umbrella, bade Morris good-night, and went back across the fields tothe farmhouse, hearing from Mrs. Lennox that Katy had gone to bed with aracking headache. 

"Just the way I felt when I heard about Joel and Patty, " Aunt Betsy saidto herself, and as she remembered what had helped her then, so, fifteenminutes later, she appeared at Katy's bedside, with a cup of strong sagetea which she bade Katy swallow, telling her it was good for hercomplaint. 

To prevent being urged and annoyed, Katy drank the tea, and then withouta question concerning Aunt Betsy's call at Linwood, lay down upon herpillow, asking to be left alone. 

CHAPTER LII. 

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 herchamber watching Katy as she brushed her wavy hair, occasionally curlinga tress around her fingers and letting it fall upon her snowynightdress. 

They had been talking of Morris, whom Katy had only seen once since thatrainy night, and that at church, where he had come the previous Sunday. Katy had written an account of the transaction to her sister, who hadchosen to reply by word of mouth rather than by letter, and so the firstmoment they were alone she seized the opportunity to ask if Katy was ofthe same mind still as when she refused the doctor. 

"Yes; why shouldn't I be?" Katy replied. "You better than any one elseknew what passed between Wilford and me concerning Morris, and youcan--"

"Do you love Morris?" Helen asked, abruptly, without waiting for Katy tofinish her sentence. 

For an instant the hands stopped in their work, and Katy's eyes filledwith 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 havenot been there since, nor spoken with him until last Sunday, but thoughI did not know he was coming, I knew the moment he entered the church, and when in the first chant I heard his voice, my fingers trembled sothat I could scarcely play, while all the time my heart goes out afterthe rest I always find with him. But it cannot be. "

"Suppose Morris had asked you first, what then?" was Helen's nextstraightforward question, and Katy, who had no secrets from her sister, answered:

"It might have been, perhaps, though I never thought of it then. 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, smoothingher bright hair, said, gently:

"You have taken a morbid fancy, Katy. You do not reason correctly. It isright for you to answer Morris yes, and Wilford would say so, too. WhenI received your letter apprising me of the refusal, I read it to Bell, who said she was so sorry, and then told what Wilford said before hedied. You must have forgotten it, darling. He referred to a time whenyou would cease to be his widow, and he said he was willing, said so toher, and you. Do you remember it, Katy?"

"Yes, I do now, but I had forgotten. I was so stunned then, sobewildered, that it made no impression. I did not think he meant Morris. Helen, do you believe he meant Morris?" and lifting up her face, Katylooked at her sister with a wistfulness which told how anxiously shewaited for the answer. 

"I know that he meant Morris, " Helen replied. "Bell thinks so, too. Sodoes her father, and both bade me tell you to revoke your decision, tomarry Dr. Grant, with whom you will be so happy. "

"I cannot. It is too late. I told him no, and, Helen, I told him afalsehood, too, which I wish I might take back, " she added. "I said Iwas sorry he ever loved me, when I was not, for the knowing that he hadmade me very happy. My conscience has smitten me cruelly since for thatfalsehood told, not intentionally, for I did not consider what I said. "

Here was an idea at which Helen caught at once. She knew just howconscientious Katy was, and by working upon this principle she hoped topersuade her into going over to Linwood and telling Morris that when shesaid she was sorry he loved her she did not mean it. But this Katy wouldnot do. Helen could tell him, if she liked, but she must not encouragehim to hope for a recantation of all she had said to him. She meant therest. She could not be his wife. 

Early the next morning Helen went to Linwood, and the same afternoonMorris returned her call. He had been there two or three times since hisreturn from Washington, but not since Katy's refusal, and her cheekswere scarlet as he met him in the parlor and tried to be natural. He didnot 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 himso cheerful, and even gay, when she had scarcely known a moment's quietsince the day she carried him the custards, and forgot to bring away herumbrella. As it had rained that day, so it did now, a decided, energeticrain, which set in after Morris came, and precluded the possibility ofhis 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 whichcame around for him at dark returned to Linwood, with the message thatthe doctor would pass the night at Deacon Barlow's. A misty, rainynight, who does not enjoy it when sitting by a cheerful fire, theylisten dreamily to the falling rain sifting softly through the leaflesstrees, and answering to the faint sighing of the autumn wind. Morrisenjoyed it very much, and but for the green glasses he still wore wouldhave looked and appeared like his former self as he sat in his armchair, now holding the skein of yarn which Aunt Betsy wound, now talking withthe deacon of the probable exchange of all the prisoners, a theme whichquickened Helen's pulse and sent the blood to her pale cheeks, and againstanding by Katy as she played his favorite airs, his rich bass voicemingling with hers and Helen's, the three making finer music, Aunt Betsysaid, than that for which she paid two dollars at the playhouse. 

He did not often address Katy directly, but he knew each time she moved, and watched every varying expression of her face, feeling a kind of pityfor her, when without appearing to do so intentionally, the family, oneby one, stole from the room--Uncle Ephraim and Aunt Hannah without anyexcuse; Aunt Betsy to raise the cakes for breakfast; Mrs. Lennox towind 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 thatneither one came back again, and after the lapse of ten minutes or moreshe felt convinced that she had purposely been left alone with Morris. 

The weather and the family had conspired against her, but after onethrob of fear she resolved to brave the difficulty and meet whatevermight happen as became a woman of twenty-three, and a widow, too. Sheknew Morris was regarding her intently as she fashioned into shape thecoarse wool sock, intended for some soldier, and she could almost hearher heart beat in the silence which fell between them ere Morris said toher, in a tone which reassured her at once:

"And so you told me a falsehood the other day, and your conscience hastroubled you ever since?"

"Yes, Morris, " and Katy dropped her stitch as she replied. "Yes; thatis, I told you I was sorry that you ever loved me, which was not exactlytrue, for, after I knew you did, I was happier than before. "

Her words implied a knowledge of his love previous to that night atLinwood 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, a tear dropping on her cheek as sherecalled the circumstances of Wilford's telling her. 

"I understand now why you have been so shy of me, " Morris said. "It wasonly natural you should be until you knew what my intentions were; but, Katy, must this shyness continue always? Think now, and say if you didnot tell more than one falsehood the other night, as you countfalsehoods. "

Katy looked wonderingly at him, and he continued;

"You said you could not be my wife. Was that true? Can't you take itback, and give me a different answer?"

Katy's checks were scarlet, and her hands had ceased to flutter aboutthe knitting which lay upon her lap. 

"I meant what I said, " she whispered; "for knowing, as I do, how Wilfordfelt, it would not be right for me to be so happy. "

"Then it's nothing personal? If there were no harrowing memories ofWilford, you could be happy with me. Is that it, Katy?" Morris asked, coming close to her now, and imprisoning her hands, which she did nottry to take away, but let them lie in his as he continued: "Wilford waswilling at the last. Have you forgotten that?"

"I had, until Helen reminded me. " Katy replied. "But, Morris, thetalking of this thing brings Wilford's death back so vividly, making itseem but yesterday since I held his dying head. "

She was beginning to relent, Morris knew, and bending nearer to her, hesaid:

"It was not yesterday. It will be two years in February; and this, youknow, is November. I need you, Katy. I want you so much. I have wantedyou all your life. Before it was wrong to do so I used each day to praythat God would give you to me, and now I feel just as sure that he hasopened the way for you to come to me as I am sure that Wilford is inheaven. He is happy there, and shall a morbid fancy keep you from beinghappy here? Tell me then, Katy, will you be my wife?"

He was kissing her cold hands, and as he did so he felt her tearsdropping 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 supposed I might, even then, have loved you, had you asked me first, but I loved him, and I was happywith him, or if there were little clouds, his dying swept them allaway. "

Katy was proving herself a true woman, who remembered only the goodthere was in Wilford, and Morris did not love her less for it. She wasall the dearer to him, all the more desirable. Once 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 kissMorris gave her, calling her "My own little Katy, " she felt stealingover her the same indescribable peace she had always felt with him, intensified now, and sweeter from the knowing it would remain if sheshould will it so. And she did will it so, kissing Morris back when heasked her to, and thus sealing the compact of her second betrothal. Itwas not exactly like the first. There was no tumultuous emotions, orecstatic joys, but Katy felt in her inmost heart that she was happiernow than then, that between herself and Morris there was more affinitythan there had been between herself and Wilford, and as she looked backover the road she had come, and remembered all Morris had been to her, she wondered at her blindness in not recognizing and responding to thelove in which she had now found shelter. 

It was very late that night when Katy crept up to bed, and Helen, whowas not asleep, knew by the face on which the lamplight fell, as Katysat for a moment in thoughtful mood, looking out into the darkness, thatMorris had not sued in vain. Aunt Betsy knew it, too, next morning, bythe same look on Katy's face, when she came downstairs, but this did notprevent 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'svisions of roasted fowls and frosted cake, and maybe a dance in thekitchen, to say nothing of the feather bed which she had not dared tooffer Katy Cameron, but which she thought would come in play for "MissDr. Grant. "

CHAPTER LIII. 

THE PRISONERS. 

Many of the captives were coming home. Prison after prison had given upits starving, vermin-eaten inmates, while all along the Northern linesloving hearts were waiting, and friendly hands outstretched to welcomethem back to "God's land, " as the poor, suffering creatures termed thesoil over which waved the Stars and Stripes, for which they had foughtso bravely. Wistfully, thousands of eyes ran over the long columns ofnames of those returned, each eye seeking for its own, and growing dimwith tears as it failed to find it, or lighting up with untold joy whenit was found. 

"Lieutenant Robert Reynolds" and "Thomas Tubbs, " Helen read among thelist of those just arrived at Annapolis, but "Captain Mark Ray" was notthere, and with a sickening feeling of disappointment she passed thepaper to her mother-in-law, and hastened away, to weep and pray thatwhat she so greatly feared might not come upon her. 

It was after Katy's betrothal, and she was in New York, happy to hearnews from Mark, and perhaps to see him ere long, for, as nearly as shecould 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 tellwhether he still lived, or had long since been relieved from suffering. 

Early the next day she heard that Mattie Tubbs had received a telegramfrom Tom, who would soon be at home, while later in the day Bell Cameroncame around to say that Bob was living, but had lost his right arm, andwas otherwise badly crippled. It never occurred to Helen to ask if thiswould make a difference. She only kissed Bell fondly, rejoicing at hergood fortune, and then sent her back to the home where there were hotdiscussions regarding the propriety of receiving into the family amaimed and crippled member. 

"It was preposterous to suppose Bob would expect it, " Juno said, whilethe mother admitted that it was a most unfortunate affair, as indeed thewhole war had proved. For her part, she sometimes wished the North hadlet the South go quietly when they wanted to, and so saved thousands oflives, and prevented the country from being flooded with cripples, andnegroes, and calls for more men and money. On the whole, she ratherdoubted the propriety of re-electing Lincoln, and prolonging the war;and she certainly doubted the propriety of giving her daughter to acripple. There was Arthur Grey, who had lately been so attentive; he wasa wealthier man than Lieutenant Bob, and if Bell had any discretion shewould take him in preference to a disfigured soldier. 

Such was the purport of Mrs. Cameron's remarks, to which her husbandlistened, his eyes blazing with passion, which, the moment she finished, burst forth in a storm of oaths and invectives against what, with hispet adjective, he called her "Copperhead principles, " denouncing her asa traitor, reproaching her for the cruelty which would separate herdaughter from Robert Reynolds because he had lost an arm in the serviceof 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 bitterscorn, to what her mother and sister said, and who now, with elevatednostrils and voice hoarse with emotion, answered slowly andimpressively:

"I would marry Lieutenant Reynolds if he had only his ears left to hearme tell him how much I love and honor him! Arthur Grey! Don't talk to meof him! the craven coward, who will neither volunteer nor give a centfor our poor, suffering soldiers, but turns people off with: 'Governmentprovides, ' or 'the stores do not reach them, ' and all those subterfugesto which mean men resort to keep from giving, and to avoid the draftswore he was forty-five, when we all know better. Don't insult Robertwith such a comparison, or think I will break my faith with him. "

After this no more was said to Bell, who waited anxiously for furthernews from Bob, and who, the moment she heard he was at home, went to hisfather's house, and asked to see him. 

He was sleeping when she entered his room, and pushing back the heavycurtain, 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 sunkencheek, his short, dry hair, and thick, gray skin--all marks of thebrutal treatment he had received. She did not think of his arm until sheglanced at the wall where hung a large-sized photograph, taken in fulluniform the last time he was at home, and in which his full, well-developed figure showed to good advantage. Could it be that thewreck before her had ever been as full of life and vigor as the picturewould indicate, and was that arm which held the sword severed from thebody, and left a token of the murderous war?

"Poor Bob! how much he must have suffered, " she whispered, and kneelingdown beside him, she hid her face in her hands, weeping bitter tearsfor her armless hero. 

The motion awakened Robert, who gazed for a moment in surprise at thekneeling, sobbing maiden; then, when sure it was she, he raised himselfin bed, and ere Bell could look up, two arms, one quite as strong as theother, were wound around her neck, and her head was pillowed upon thebreast, which heaved with strong emotions as the soldier said:

"My darling Bell, my promised wife, you don't know how much good thismeeting does me!"

He kissed her many times, and Bell did not prevent it, but gave him kissafter kiss, then, still doubting the evidence of her eyes, she unclaspedhis clinging arms, and holding both his poor hands in hers, gave vent toa 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 puta wrong construction upon her joy, she added:

"I did not care for myself, Robert. Don't think I cared for myself, orwas ever sorry a bit on my own account. "

Bob looked a little bewildered as he replied: "Never were sorry andnever cared! I can scarcely credit that, for surely your tears andpresent emotions belie your words. "

Bell knew he had not understood her, and she said:

"Your arm, Robert, your arm. We heard it was cut off, and that you wereotherwise mutilated. "

"Oh, that's it, then!" and something like his old, mischievous smileglimmered 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 theyhacked off both my legs, and if you marry me, as you seem to think youwill, you must walk all your life by the side of wooden pins andcrutches?"

Bell knew by the curl of his lip that he was teasing her, and sheanswered, 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 storefor my wife, for if I ever get back my strength and the flesh upon mybones, she must take me with legs and arms included. Not even a scratchor wound of any kind with which to awaken sympathy. "

He appeared very bright and cheerful, but when, after a moment, Bellasked for Mark Ray, there came a shadow over his face, and withquivering lips he told a tale which blanched Bell's cheek, and made hershiver with pain and dread as she thought of Helen, the wife who hadnever known the sweets of matrimony, and who would never taste them now, for Mark was dead--shot down as he attempted to escape from the trainwhich took them from one place of torment to another. He was alwaysdevising means of escape, succeeding several times, but was immediatelycaptured and brought back, or sent to some closer quarters, Robert said;but his courage never deserted him, and in the muddy, filthy place wherethey were herded like so many cattle, without shelter of any kind, hewas the life of them all, and by his presence kept many a poor fellowfrom dying of homesickness and despair. But he was dead; there could beno mistake, for Robert saw him when he jumped, heard the ball which wentwhizzing after him, saw him as he fell on the open field, saw a man froma rude dwelling nearby go hurriedly toward him, firing his own revolver, as if to make the death deed doubly sure. Then, as the train slacked itsspeed, with the view, perhaps, to take the body on board, he heard theman who had reached Mark and was bending over him, call out: "Go on;I'll tend to him. He is dead as a stone; bullet went right throughhere, " and he turned the dead man's face toward the train, so all couldsee the blood pouring from the temple which the finger of the rebelruffian touched. 

"Oh, Helen! poor Helen! How can I tell her, when she loved him so much!"Bell sobbed, while Bob repeated many things to prove how strong was thelove the unfortunate Mark Ray had borne for his young wife. 

"He used to make pictures of her, " he said, "with a pencil which he had, and once he whittled out her face with a lily in the hair. It was a goodlikeness, too, and I saw Mark kiss it more than once when he thought hewas not seen. He had her photograph, it seems, but a brutal keeper tookit away, for no earthly purpose except to distress him. I never saw Markcast down till then, when for two whole days he scarcely spoke, butwould stand for hours with his face turned toward the North, and aquivering motion around his lips, as if his heart were broken. "

Bell could hear no more, but motioned him to stop. 

"It's too terrible even to think about, " she said. "Oh, how can I tellHelen!"

"You will do it better than any one else, " Bob said. "You will be verytender with her; and, Bell, tell her, as some consolation, that he didnot break with the treatment, as most of us wretches did; he kept upwonderfully--said he was perfectly well--and, indeed, he looked so. TomTubbs, who was his shadow, clinging to him with wonderful fidelity, willcorroborate what I have said. He was with us, he saw him, and onlyanimal force prevented him from leaping from the car and going to himwhere he fell. I shall never forget his shriek of agony at the sight ofthat blood-stained face turned an instant toward us. "

"Don't, don't!" Bell cried again; "I can't endure it!" and as Mrs. Reynolds then came in, she left her lover, and with a foreboding heart, started for Mrs. Banker's, meeting on the steps Tom Tubbs himself, whohad come on an errand similar to her own. 

"Sit here in the hall a moment, " she said to him, as the servantadmitted them both. "I must see Mrs. Ray first. "

Helen was reading to her mother-in-law, but she laid down her book andcame to welcome Bell, detecting at once the agitation in her manner andasking if she had 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 thetrain taking him to another prison, Robert saw it, and knew that he wasdead. "

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 itwould be a mercy if she never came back to life, for her reason, hefancied, had fled. But Helen did come back to life with reasonunimpaired, and insisted upon hearing every detail of the dreadfulstory, both from Bell and Tom. The latter confirmed all LieutenantReynolds 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 ballstunned, instead of killing--that he would yet come back; and many atime, as the days went by, that mother started at a step upon the walkor ring of the bell, which she fancied might be his, hearing himsometimes calling in the night storm for her to let him in, and hurryingdown to the door only to be disappointed, and go back to her lonely roomto weep the dark night through. 

With Helen there were no such illusions. After talking calmly andrationally with both Robert and Tom, she knew her husband was dead, andnever watched and waited for him as his mother did. She had heard fromMark'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 Tubbsbrought to her, saying: "He cut it from his head just before we left theprison, and told me if he never got home and I did, to give the lock toyou, and say that all was well between him and God--that your prayershad saved him. He wanted you to know that, because, he said, it wouldcomfort you most of all. "

And it did comfort her, so that she could almost say with a full heart:"Thy will be done, " when she looked up at the clear, wintry heavens andthought that her lost one was there. It was her first real trial, and itcrushed her with its magnitude so that she could not submit at once, andmany a cry of desolate agony broke the silence of her room, where thewhole night through she sat musing of the past, and raining kisses uponthe 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 fadedit was from the rich brown she remembered so well, and Helen gazing atit could realize in part the suffering and want which had worn so manyprecious lives away. It was strange she never dreamed of him. She oftenprayed that she might, so as to drive from her mind, if possible, thepicture of the prostrate form upon the low, damp field, and theblood-stained face turned in its mortal agony toward the Southern skyand the pitiless foe above it. So she always saw him, shuddering as shewondered if the foe had buried him decently or left his bones to bleachupon the open plain. 

Poor Helen, she was widowed indeed, and it needed not the badge ofmourning 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. Bankeryielded to Helen's importunities, and clothed herself anddaughter-in-law in the habiliments of woe, still waiting, stillwatching, still listening for the step she should recognize so quickly, still looking down the street; but looking, alas! in vain. The winterpassed away. Captive after captive came home, heart after heart wascheered by the returning loved one, but for the inmates of No. ---- theheavy cloud grew blacker, for the empty chair by the hearth remainedunoccupied, and the aching hearts uncheered. Mark Ray did not come back. 

CHAPTER LIV. 

THE DAY OF THE WEDDING. 

Those first warm days of March, 1865, when spring and summer seemed tokiss each other and join hands for a brief space of time, how balmy, howstill, how pleasant they were, and how bright the farmhouse looked, where preparations for Katy's second bridal were going rapidly forward. Aunt Betsy, as chief directress, was in her element, for now had comethe reality of the vision she had seen so long, of house turned upsidedown in one grand onslaught of suds and sand, then righted again bymagic power, and smelling very sweet and clean from its recentablutions--of turkeys dying in the barn, of chickens in the shed, ofovens heating in the kitchen, of loaves of frosted cake, with cards andcards of snowy biscuit piled upon the pantry shelf--of jellies, tartsand chicken salad--of home-made wine and home-brewed beer, with tea andcoffee, portioned out and ready for the pots, the latter mixed withfresh-laid eggs, and smelling strongly of old Java, and the former asfragrant as two and one-half dollars per pound could buy. 

Aunt Betsy was very happy, for this, the brightest, balmiest day of all, was Katy's wedding day, and in the dining-room the table was already setwith the new chinaware and silver, a joint Christmas gift from Helen andKaty to their good Aunt Hannah, as real mistress of the house. 

"Not plated-ware, but the gen-oo-ine article, " Aunt Betsy had explainedat least twenty times to those who came to see the silver, and shehandled it proudly now as she took it from the flannel bags where Mrs. Deacon Bannister said it must be kept, and placed it on a side table. 

The coffee-urn was Katy's, so was the teakettle and the massive pitcher, but the rest was "ours, " Aunt Betsy complacently reflected as shecontemplated the glittering array, end then hurried off to see what wasburning on the stove, or "spell" Uncle Ephraim, working industriously atthe ice-cream, out on the back stoop, stumbling over Morris as she went, and telling him he had come too soon--it was not fittin' for him to bethere under foot until he was wanted. 

Morris probably thought he was wanted, by one member of the family atleast, and without replying directly to Aunt Betsy, he knocked with avast amount of assurance at a side door, which opened directly, andKaty's glowing face looked out, and Katy's voice was heard, not tellinghim he was not wanted, but saying, joyfully:

"Oh, Morris, it's you. I'm so glad you've come, for I wanted--"

But what she wanted was drowned by a succession of certain mysterioussounds, such as are only produced by a collision of lips, and which madeAunt Betsy mutter to herself:

"It's all right, I know, but so much kissin' as I've seen the lastfortni't is enough to turn a body's stomach. I guess old bachelders andwidders is commonly wus than fresh hands at it. "

And having thus expressed her thoughts, Aunt Betsy seized the handle ofthe ice-cream freezer and turned it vigorously, thinking, perhaps, ofJoel Upham, and what might have been but for a freak of hers. MeanwhileMorris and Katy sat alone in the little sewing-room, where latterly theyhad passed so many quiet hours together, and where lay the bridal dress, with its chaste and simple decorations. Katy had clung tenaciously toher mourning robes, asking, half tearfully, if she might wear black, asladies sometimes did. But Morris had promptly answered no. His bride, ifshe came to him willingly, must not come clad in widow's weeds, for whenshe became his wife she would cease to be a widow. 

And so the black was laid aside, and Katy, in soft tinted colors, withher bright hair curling in her neck, looked as girlish and beautiful asif in Greenwood there were no pretentious monument, with Wilford's nameupon it, nor any little grave in Silverton where Baby Cameron slept. Shehad been both wife and mother, but she was quite as dear to Morris as ifshe had never borne other name than Katy Lennox, and as he held her fora moment closely to his heart, he thanked God, who had at last given tohim the idol of his boyhood and the love of his later years. Acrosstheir pathway no shadow was lying, except when they remembered Helen, onwhom the mantle of widowhood had so darkly fallen just as Katy wasthrowing it off. 

Poor Helen, the tears always crept to Katy's eyes when, she thought ofher, and now as she saw her steal across the road and strike into thewinding 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 pityher 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 hiddenagony was tugging at her heart, and life seemed a heavier burden thanshe could bear. 

All her portion of the work was finished now, and in the balmybrightness of that warm April afternoon she went into the fields whereshe could be alone beneath the soft, summer-like sky, and pour out herpent-up anguish into the ear of Him who had so often soothed andcomforted her when other aids had failed. Last night, for the first timesince she heard the dreadful news, she had dreamed of Mark, and when sheawoke she still felt the pressure of his lips upon her brow, the touchof his arm upon her waist, and the thrilling clasp of his warm hand asit pressed and held her own. But that was a dream, a cruel delusion, andits memory made the day more dark and dreary as she went more slowly upthe beaten path, pausing once beneath a chestnut tree and leaning herthrobbing head against the shaggy bark as she heard in the distance theshrill whistle of the downward train from Albany, and thought, as shealways did when she heard that whistle, "Oh, if that heralded Mark'sreturn, how happy I should be. " But many a sound like that had echoedacross the Silverton hills, bringing no hope to her, and now, as itagain died away in the Cedar Swamp, she pursued her way up the path tillshe reached the long, white ledge of rocks where with Katy she used toplay, and where Bell Cameron had come with Lieutenant Bob, while Morris, too, had more than once led Katy there since the weather was so fine. 

"The Lovers' Rock, " some called it, for village boys and maidens knewthe place, repairing to it often, whispering their vows beneath theoverhanging pines, which whispered back again, and told the winds thestory which, though so old, is always new to her who listens to him whotells. 

Just underneath the spreading pine there was a large, flat stone, andthere Helen sat down, gazing sadly upon the valley below, and the clearwaters of Fairy Pond gleaming in the April sunshine, which lay so warmlyon the grassy hills and flashed so brightly from the cupola at Linwood, where the national flag was flying. For a time Helen watched the banneras it shook its folds to the breeze, then, as she remembered with what afearful price that flag had been saved from foul dishonor, she hid herface in her hands and sobbed bitterly:

"God help me not to begrudge the price or think I paid too dearly for mycountry's rights. Oh, Mark, my murdered husband, I may be wrong, but youwere dearer to me than many, many countries, and it is hard to give youup--hard to know that the notes of peace which even now float up to usfrom the South will not waken you in that grave which I can never see. Oh, Mark, my darling, my darling, I loved you so much, I miss you somuch, I want you so much. God help me to bear. God help me to say, 'Thywill be done. '"

She was rocking to and fro in her grief, with her hands pressed over herface, as she thus moaned out a prayer that God would help her to feel, as well as to say, "Thy will be done, " and for a long time she sat therethus, while the sun crept on further toward the west, and the freshenedbreeze shook the tasseled pine above her head and kissed the bands ofrich brown hair, from which her hat had fallen. She did not heed thelapse of time in the earnest prayer she breathed for entire submissionto God's will, nor did she hear the footstep coming up the pathway tothe ledge where she was sitting, the footstep which paused at intervals, as if the comer were weary, or else in quest of some one, but which atlast came on with rapid bounds as an opening among the trees showedwhere Helen sat. It was a tall young man who came, a young man sunburnedand scarred, with uniform soiled and worn, but with the fire in hisbrown eyes unquenched, the love in his true heart unchanged, save as itwas 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 dangerhad reached his Northern home, had sought and found his girl-wife of afew hours, for it was Mark Ray speeding up the path, and holding backhis breath as he came close to the bowed form on the rock, feeling astrange throb of awe when he saw the mourning dress, and knew it wasworn for him. A moment more, and she lay in his arms, white andinsensible, for with the sudden winding of his arms around her neck, thepressure of his lips upon her cheek, the calling of her name, and theknowing it was really her husband, she had uttered a wild, impassionedcry, half of terror, half of joy, and fainted entirely away, just as shedid when told that he was dead! There was no water near, but with lovingwords and soft caresses, Mark brought her back to life, raining bothtears and kisses upon the dear face which had grown so white and thinsince the Christmas Eve when the wintry starlight had looked down upontheir parting. For several moments neither could speak for the greatchoking joy which wholly precluded the utterance of a word. Helen wasthe first to rally, and lying in Mark's lap, with her head pillowed onMark's arm, she whispered:

"Let us thank God together. You, too, have learned to pray. "

Reverently Mark bent his face to hers, and the pine boughs overheadheard, instead of mourning notes, a prayer of praise, as the reunitedwife and husband fervently thanked God, who had brought them togetheragain. 

Not until nearly half an hour was gone, and Helen had begun to realizethat the arm which held her so tightly was genuine flesh and blood, andnot a mere delusion, did she look up into the face, glowing with so muchof 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 shudderas she touched it with her lips, and said:

"Poor, darling Mark! that's where the cruel ball entered; but where isthe other scar--the one made by the man who went to you in the fields, and who also fired, they said. I have tried so hard to hate him forfiring at a fallen foe. "

"Rather, pray for him, darling. Bless him as the savior of yourhusband's life, the noble fellow but for whom I should not have beenhere now, for he was a Unionist, as true to the old flag as Abrahamhimself, " Mark Ray replied; and then, as Helen looked wonderingly athim, he laid her head in an easier position upon his shoulder, and toldher a story so strange in its details that but for the frequentoccurrence of similar incidents it would be pronounced wholly unreal andfalse. 

Of what he suffered in the Southern prisons he did not speak, eitherthen or ever after, but began with the day when, with a courage born ofdesperation, he jumped from the moving train, and was shot down by theguard. Partially stunned, he still, retained sense enough to know whena tall form bent over him, and to hear the rough but kindly voice whichsaid:

"Play 'possum, Yank. Make b'lieve you're dead, and throw them hellhoundsoff the scent. "

This was the last he knew for many weeks, and when again he awoke toconsciousness he found himself on the upper floor of a dilapidated hut, which stood in the center of a little wood, his bed a pile of straw, over which was spread a clean patchwork quilt, while seated at his side, and watching him intently, was the same man who had bent over him in thefield, and shouted to the rebels that he was dead. 

"I shall never forget my sensations then, " Mark said, "for, with theexception of this present hour, when I hold you, my darling, in my arms, and know the danger is over, I never experienced a moment of greaterhappiness and rest than when, up in that squalid garret, where therafters, festooned with cobwebs and dust, could be touched by stretchingout my hand, and where the sunlight only found an entrance through anaperture in the roof, which admitted the rain as well, I came back tolife again, the pain in my head all gone, and nothing left save adelicious feeling of languor, which prompted me to lie quietly forseveral minutes, examining my surroundings, and speculating upon thechance which brought me there. That I was a prisoner I did not doubt, until the man at my side said to me, cheerily: 'Well, old chap, you'vecome through it like a major, though I was mighty dubious a spell aboutthat pesky ball. But old Aunt Bab and me fished it out, and since thenyou've begun to mend. '

"'Where am I? Who are you?' I asked, and he replied: 'Who be I? Why, I'mJack Jennin's, the rarinest, red-hottest secesh thar is in these yereparts, so the rebs thinks; but 'twixt you and me, boy, I'm the tallestkind of a Union--got a piece of the old flag sewed inside of my boots, and every night before sleepin' I prays Lord gin Abe the victory, ' andraise Cain generally in t'other camp, and forgive Jack Jennin's fortellin' so many lies, and makin' b'leeve he's one thing, when you knowand he knows he's t'other. If I've spared one Union chap, I'll bet Ihave a hundred, me and old Bab, a black woman who lives here and tendsto 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 bony hand in token of my gratitude, while hewent on to say: 'Them was beans I fired at you that day, but they sarvedevery purpose, and them scalliwags on the train s'pose you were putunder ground 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 couldgit a hundred dollars by givin' you up, but you don't s'pose JackJennin's is agwine to do that ar infernal trick? No, sir, ' and hebrought his brawny fist down upon his knee with a force which made metremble, while I tried to express my thanks for his great kindness. Hewas a noble man, Helen, while Aunt Bab, the colored woman, who nursed meso tenderly, and whose black, bony hands I kissed at parting, was astrue 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 threemore escaped prisoners were brought there, and one Union refugee fromNorth Carolina. We left in company one wild, rainy night, when the stormand darkness must have been sent for our special protection, and JackJennings cried like a little child when he bade me good-by, promising, if he survived the war, to find his way to the North and visit me in NewYork. I should be prouder, Helen, to welcome him to our home than toentertain the Emperor of France, while Bab should have a seat at my owntable, and I be honored by it. There are many such noble spirits there, and when I remember them, I wish to spare a land which I once hopedmight be burned with fire until no trace was left. We found themeverywhere, and especially among the mountains of Tennessee, where, butfor their timely aid, we had surely been recaptured. The negroes, too, were powerful helps, and in no single case has a black man provedtreacherous to his suffering white brother, I was not an Abolitionistwhen the war broke out, but I am one now, and to see the negro free Iwould almost spill my last drop of blood. They are a patient, all-enduring, faithful race, and without them the bones of many a poorwretch who now sits by his own fireside and recounts the perils he hasescaped, would whiten in the Southern swamps or on the Southernmountains. Three times were we chased by bloodhounds, and in every casethe negroes were the means of saving us from certain death. For weeks wewere hidden in a cave, hunted by the Confederates by day, and fed atnight by negroes, who told us when and where to go. With blistered feetand bruised limbs, we reached the lines at last, when fever attacked mefor 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 themwrite again, as I wanted to surprise you. As soon as I was able Istarted North, my thoughts full of the joyful meeting in store--ameeting which I dreaded, too, for I knew you must think me dead, and Ifelt so sorry for you, my darling, knowing, as I did, you would mournfor your soldier husband. That my darling has mourned is written on herface, 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 whichwhispered:

"Yes, I have been so sorry, Mark--so tired, so sad, and life was such aburden, I would gladly have laid it down. "

"The burden is now removed, " Mark said, and then he told her how, arrived at Albany, he had telegraphed to his mother, asking where Helenwas. 

"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 joywith which I looked again upon the hills and rocks so identified withyou that I loved them for your sake, hailing them as old, familiarfriends, and actually growing sick and faint with excitement when, through the leafless woods, I caught the gleam of Fairy Pond, where Igathered the lilies for you. Does my darling remember it?"

He knew she did by the clasp of her hand, and he continued:

"Had a dead body risen from its grave, and walked into the farmhouse, carrying its coffin with it, it could not have created greaterconsternation, or made worse havoc with the people's wits than did mysudden appearance in their midst. Good Aunt Betsy, I am sorry to say, fell the entire length of the cellar stairs, spraining her ankle, bruising her elbow shockingly, and, direst calamity of all, in herestimation, breaking the dish of charlotte russe she was holding in herhand. There is a wedding in progress, I learned from mother, and itseems very meet that I should come at this time, making, in reality, adouble wedding, when I can truly claim my bride, " and Mark kissed Helenpassionately, 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 ofrocks, happy enough to atone for all the dreadful past, and when at lastthey arose and slowly retraced their steps to the farmhouse, it seemedto Mark that Helen's cheeks were rounder, fuller, than when he foundher, while Helen knew that the arm on which she leaned was stronger thanwhen it first inclosed her an hour or two ago. 

CHAPTER LV. 

THE WEDDING. 

Many times Aunt Betsy had hobbled to the door, and shading her eyes withher hand, had looked wistfully up the hill in quest of Mark and Helen, wondering why they stayed out so long, when they must know the sun wasnearly down, and wondering next if Morris would never go home about hisbusiness and give Katy a chance to dress. 

Poor, worried, unfortunate Aunt Betsy! her foot was very lame, and herarm was badly bruised; but she bandaged it up in camphor and sugar, wincing at the terrible smart when the wash was at first applied, butsaying to Morris, who asked if it did not hurt cruelly: "Yes, it hurtssome, but nothin' to what the poor soldiers is hurt; and I wouldn't mindit an atom if I hadn't broke the dish with the heathenish name. "

And, indeed, the loss of the charlotte russe did weigh heavily on AuntBetsy's mind, proving the straw too many, and only Bell Cameron, who, with Lieutenant Bob, had come on the same train with Mark and Mrs. Banker, had power to reassure her by telling her that charlotte russewas not essential at all; that, for her part, she was glad to have itout of sight, as it was her especial detestation. This comforted AuntBetsy, who had made many of her preparations for the wedding with adirect reference to the "city folks" so confidently expected. Thesubstantials were for the neighbors--those who would have no supper athome, but reserve their appetites for the wedding viands; while thedelicacies, the knickknacks, were designed exclusively for "themstuck-up critters, the Camerons, " not one of whom, it now seemed, wouldbe present except Bell. Father Cameron was not able to come; he wouldgladly have done so if he could, and he sent his blessing to Katy, withthe wish that she might be very happy in her second married life. Thismessage Bell gave to Katy, and then tried to form some reasonable excusefor her mother's and Juno's absence, for she could not tell howhaughtily both had declined the invitation, Juno finding fault becauseKaty had not waited longer than two years, and Mrs. Cameron blaming herfor being so very vulgar as to be married at home, instead of in church, where she ought to be. On this point Katy herself had been a littledisquieted, feeling how much more appropriate it was that she be marriedin the church, but shrinking from standing again a bride at the samealtar where she had once before been made a wife. She could not do it, she finally decided; there would be too many harrowing memories crowdingupon her mind, and as Morris did not particularly care where theceremony was performed, provided he got Katy at the last, it was settledthat it should be at the house, even though Mrs. Deacon Bannister didsay that she had supposed Dr. Grant too High Church to do anything asPresbyterianny as that. 

Bell's arrival at the farmhouse was timely, for the unexpectedappearance in their midst of one whom they looked upon as surely deadhad stunned and bewildered the family to such an extent that it neededthe presence of just such a matter-of-fact, self-possessed woman asBell to bring things back to their original shape. It was wonderful howthe city girl fitted into the vacant niches, seeing to everything whichneeded seeing to, and still finding time to steal away alone withLieutenant Bob, who kept her in a painful state of blushing byconstantly wishing it was his bridal night as well as Dr. Grant's, andby inveighing against the weeks which must still intervene ere the dayappointed for the grand ceremony to take place in Grace Church, andwhich was to make Bell his wife. 

 * * * * *

"Ain't Morris ever goin' home? He won't be dressed in time, as sure asthe world, if he stays here much longer, " Aunt Betsy said a dozen times, until at last her patience was exhausted, and going boldly in where hewas, she bade him start in at once, or he would not have time to put onhis best coat and jacket, let alone Katy's changin' her clothes. 

Thus importuned, Morris quitted the house, just as Mark and Helen cameslowly up, their faces happier, if possible, than his own, and tellingof the great joy which had succeeded their dark night of sorrow. 

 * * * * *

"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, whosereturn was not quite real yet, and leading her daughter-in-law to herbedroom, she showed her the elegant white silk which had been made forher just after her marriage, two years before, and which with carefulforethought she had brought with her, as more suitable now for thewedding 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 know you will be most as much a bride as Katy, and I have apride in seeing my son's wife appropriately dressed. "

Far different were Helen's feelings now, as she donned the elegantdress, from what they had been the first and only time she wore it. Thenthe bridegroom was where danger and death lay thickly around hispathway, but now he was at her side, kissing her cheek where the roseswere burning so brightly, and calling still deeper blushes to her faceby his teasing observations and humorous ridicule of his own personalappearance. Would she not feel ashamed of him, in his soiled, fadeduniform? And would she not cast longing glances at her handsomebrother-in-law and the stylish Lieutenant Bob? But Helen was proud ofher husband's uniform, as a badge of what he had suffered, and when thefolds 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 onewas near, winding her soft arms about his neck, whispering: "My darlingMark, I cannot make it real yet. "

Softly the night shadows fell around the farmhouse, and in the roomsbelow 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 hadcome to see their loved physician married, rejoicing in his happiness, and glad that the mistress of Linwood was not to be a stranger, but theyoung girl who had grown up in their midst, and who, by suffering andsorrow, had been molded into a noble woman, worthy of Dr. Grant. She wasready now for her second bridal, and she looked like some pure waxenfigure in her dress of white, with no vestige of color in her face, andher great blue eyes shining with a brilliancy which made them almostblack. Occasionally, as her thoughts leaped backward over a period ofalmost six years, a tear trembled on her long eyelashes, but Morris, asoften as he saw it, kissed it away, asking if she were sorry. 

"Oh, no, not sorry that I am to be your wife, " she answered; "but it isnot possible that I should forget entirely the roughness of the roadwhich has led me to you. "

"They are waiting for you, " was said several times ere the partieswaited for were quite ready to go; but everything was done at last, andslowly down the stairs passed Mark Ray and Helen, Lieutenant Bob andBell, with Dr. Grant and Katy, whose face, as she stood again before theclergyman and spoke her marriage vows, shone with a strange, peacefullight, which made it seem to those who gazed upon her like the face ofsome pure angel. 

There was no thought then of that deathbed in Georgetown--no thought ofGreenwood, or the little grave in Silverton, where the crocuses andhyacinths were blossoming--no thought of anything save the man at herside, whose voice was so full and earnest, as it made the responses, andwho gently pressed the little hand as he fitted the wedding ring. It wasover at last, and Katy was Morris' wife, blushing now as they called herMrs. Grant, and putting up her rosebud lips to be kissed by all whoclaimed 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; both were beautiful, and both bore traces of the suffering and suspense which had purifiedand made them better. 

In heavy, rustling silk, which actually trailed an inch, and cap of reallace, Aunt Betsy hobbled among the crowd, her face aglow with thesatisfaction she felt at seeing her nieces so much admired andappreciated, and her heart so full of good will and toleration thatafter the supper was over, and she fancied a few of the younger oneswere beginning to feel tired, she suggested to Bell that she might starta dance if she had a mind to, either in the kitchen or parlor, it didnot matter where, and "Ephraim would not care an atom, " a remark whichbrought from Mrs. Deacon Bannister a most withering look of reproach, and slightly endangered Aunt Betsy's standing in the church. PerhapsBell Cameron suspected as much, for she replied that they were having asplendid time as it was, and as Dr. Grant did not dance, they might aswell dispense with it altogether. And so it happened that there was nodancing at Katy's wedding, and Uncle Ephraim escaped the reproof whichhis brother deacon would have felt called upon to give him had hepermitted so grievous a sin, while Mrs. Deacon Bannister, who, at thefirst trip of the toe, would have felt it her duty to depart, lest hereyes should look upon the evil thing, was thus permitted to remain until"it was out, " and the guests retired _en masse_ to their respectivehomes. 

 * * * * *

The carriage from Linwood stood at the farmhouse door, and Katy, wrapped in shawls and hood, was ready to go with her husband to the homewhere she knew so much of rest and quiet awaited her. There were notears shed at this parting, for their darling was not going far away;her new home was just across the fields, and through the soft moonlightthey could see its chimney tops, and trace for some little distance theroad over which the carriage went, bearing her swiftly on, her handsfast locked in Morris', her head upon his arm, and the hearts of bothtoo 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 toher:

"We are home at last--your home and mine, my precious, precious wife. "

The village clock was striking one, and the sound echoed across thewaters of Fairy Pond, awakening, in his marshy bed, a sleeping frog, whosent forth upon the warm, still air a musical, plaintive note as Morrisbore his bride over the threshold and into the library, where on thehearth a cheerful fire was blazing. He had ordered it kindled there, forhe had a fancy ere he slept to see fulfilled the dream he had dreamed sooften, of Katy sitting in the chair across the hearth, where he placedher now, himself removing her shawl and hood, then kneeling down beforeher, with his arm around her waist and his head upon her shoulder, heprayed aloud to the God who had brought her there, asking His blessingupon their future life, and dedicating himself and all he had to hisMaster's service. It is such prayer which God delights to answer; and apeace, deeper than they had yet known, fell upon that newly-married pairat Linwood. 

CHAPTER LVI. 

CONCLUSION. 

The scene shifts now to New York, where, one week after that wedding inSilverton, Mark and Helen were, and where, too, were Morris and Katy. But not on Madison Square. That house had been sold, and Katy had seenit but once, her tears falling fast as driving slowly by with Morrisshe gazed at the closed doors and windows of what was once her home, andaround which lingered no pleasant memories save that it was thebirthplace of Baby Cameron. Once Lieutenant Reynolds had thought to buyit, but Bell said: "No, it would not be quite pleasant for Katy to visitme there, and I mean to have her with me as much as possible, " so thehouse went to strangers, and a less pretentious, but quite ascomfortable, one was bought for Bell, so far uptown that Mrs. Cameronpronounced it quite in the country, while Juno wondered how her sisterwould manage to exist so far from everything, intimating that her visitswould be far between, a threat which Lieutenant Bob took quiteheroically; indeed, it rather enhanced the value of his pleasant homethan otherwise, for Juno was not a favorite, and his equanimity was notlikely to be disturbed if she never crossed his threshold. She wasthrowing bait to Arthur Grey, the man who swore he was forty-five toescape the draft, and who, now that the danger was over, would gladlytake back his oath and be forty, as he really was. With the mostfreezing kiss imaginable, Juno had greeted Katy, calling her "Mrs. Grant, " and treating Morris as if he were an entire stranger, instead ofthe man whom to get she would once have moved both earth and heaven. Mrs. Cameron, too, though glad in her heart that Katy was married, andfully approving of her choice, threw into her manner so much reservethat Katy's intercourse with her was anything but agreeable, and sheturned with alacrity to Father Cameron, who had received her with openarms, calling her his daughter, and welcoming Morris as his son, takenin Wilford's stead. "My boy, " he frequently called him, showing by hismanner how willingly he accepted him as the husband of one whom hereally loved as his child. Greatly he wished that they should stay withhim while they remained in New York, but Katy preferred going with Helento Mrs. Banker's, where she would be more quiet, and avoid the bustleand confusion attending the preparations for Bell's wedding. It was tobe a grand church affair, and to take place during Easter week, afterwhich the bridal pair were going on to Washington, Fortress Monroe, and, if possible, to Richmond, where Bob had been a prisoner. Everythingseemed conspiring to make the occasion a joyful one, for all throughthe North, from Maine to California, the air was rife with the jubileesongs of victory, and the notes of approaching peace. But, alas! He whoholds our country's destiny in His hand changed that song of gladnessinto a wail of woe, which, echoing through the land, rose up to Heavenin one mighty sob of anguish, as the whole nation bemoaned its loss. OurPresident was dead!--foully, cruelly murdered!--and New York was inmourning, so black, so profound, that with a shudder Bell Cameron tossedaside the orange wreath and said to her lover: "We will be married athome. I cannot now go to the church, when everything seems so like onegreat funeral. "

And so in Mrs. Cameron's drawing-room there was a quiet wedding onepleasant April morning, and Bell's plain traveling dress was far morein keeping with the gloom which hung over the great city than her galarobes would have been, with a long array of carriages and merry weddingchimes. Westward they went, instead of South, and when our late lamentedPresident was borne back to the prairie of Illinois, they were there togreet the noble dead, and mingle their tears with those who knew andloved him long before the world appreciated his worth. 

 * * * * *

Softly the May rain falls on Linwood, where the fresh green grass isspringing and the early spring flowers blooming, and where Katy, fairestflower of all, stands for a moment in the deep bay window of thelibrary, listening dreamily to the patter on the tin roof overhead, andgazing wistfully down the road, as if watching for some one, thenturning, she enters the dining-room and inspects the supper table, shining with silver, and laid for six, for her mother, Aunt Hannah andAunt Betsy are visiting her this rainy afternoon, while Morris, on hisreturn from North Silverton, where he has gone to see a patient, is tocall for Uncle Ephraim, who, in clean linen, checked gingham neckhandkerchief and the swallow-tailed coat which has served him for somany years, sits waiting at home, with one kitten in his lap andanother on his shoulder. 

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 "overto 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, near the blazing fire, and darns the socks for Morris, taking as muchpains as if it were a network of fine lace she was weaving, instead of ashocking rent in some luckless heel or toe. Upstairs there is a pleasantroom which Katy calls Aunt Betsy's, and in it is the feather bed onwhich Wilford Cameron once slept, a part of Katy's "setting out, " whichnever found its way to Madison Square. Morris himself did not think muchof feathers, but he made no objection when Aunt Betsy insisted onsending over the bed kept for so many years, and only smiled a drollkind of smile when he one morning met it coming up the walk in thewheelbarrow which Uncle Ephraim trundled. 

Morris and his young wife were very happy together, and Katy found thehours of his absence very long, especially when she was left alone. Evento-day, with her aunts and mother, the time drags heavily, and she looksmore than once from the bay window, until at last Brownie's head is seenover the hill, and a few moments after Morris' arm is around hershoulders, and her lips are upturned for the kiss he gives as he leadsher into the house out of the chill, damp air, chiding her gently forexposing herself to the rain, and placing in her hand three letters, which she does not open until the cozy tea is over and her familyfriends 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 fullglory of her bridal calls. 

"I was never so happy in my life as I am now, " she wrote. "Indeed, I didnot know that a married woman could be so happy; but then every womanhas not a Bob for her husband, which makes a vast difference. You oughtto see Juno. I know she envies me, though she affects the utmostcontempt for matrimony, and reminds me forcibly of the fox and thegrapes. You see, Arthur Grey is a failure, so far as Juno is concerned, he having withdrawn from the field and laid himself, with his forty-fiveyears, at the feet of Sybil Grandon, who will be Mrs. Grey, and a brideat Saratoga the coming summer. Juno, I believe, intends going, too, asthe bridesmaid of the party; but every year her chances lessen, and Ihave very little hope that father will ever call other than Bob his son, always excepting Morris, of course, whom he really has adopted in placeof 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 eversaved, he shall in a great measure owe it to your sweet influence andconsistent life after the great trouble came upon you. "

There were tears in Katy's eyes as she read this letter from Bell, andwith a mental prayer of thanksgiving that she had been of any use inguiding even one to the Shepherd's fold, she took next the letter whosesuperscription made her tremble for a moment and turn faint, it broughtback so vividly to her mind the daisy-covered grave in Alnwick, whoseheadstone bore Genevra Lambert's name. Marian, who was now at Annapolis, caring for the returned prisoners, did not write often, and her letterswere prized the more by Katy, who read with a heating heart the kindcongratulations upon her recent marriage, sent by Marian Hazelton. 

"I knew how it would end, even when you were in Georgetown, " she wrote, "and I am glad that it is so, praying daily that you may be as happywith Dr. Grant as to remember the sad past only as some dream from whichyou have awakened. I thank you for your invitation to visit Linwood, andwhen my work is over I may come for a few weeks and rest in your bird'snest of a home. Thank God the war is ended; but my boys need me yet, anduntil the last crutch has left the hospital, and the last worn figuregone, I shall stay where duty lies. What my life will henceforth be I donot know, but I have sometimes thought that with the ample funds you sogenerously bestowed upon me, I shall open a school for orphan children, taking charge myself, and so doing some good. Will you be the ladypatroness, and occasionally enliven us with the light of yourcountenance? I have left the hospital but once since you were here, andthen I went to Wilford's grave. Forgive me, Katy, if I did wrong inwishing to kneel once upon the sod which covered him. I prayed for youwhile there, remembering only that you had been his wife. In a littlebox where no eyes but mine ever look, there is a bunch of flowersplucked from Wilford's grave. They are faded now and withered, butsomething of their sweet perfume lingers still; and I prize them as mygreatest treasure, for, except the lock of raven hair severed from hishead, they are all that is remaining to me of the past, which now seemsso far away. It is time to make my nightly round of visits, so I mustbid you good-by. 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 thesorrowful woman whose life was once so strangely blended with that ofMarian Hazelton and the pale occupant of that grave at Greenwood, whencethe flowers came, could be the Katy Grant who sat by the evening fire atLinwood, with no shadow on her brow, and only the sunshine of perfecthappiness resting on her heart. "Truly, He doeth all things well tothose who wait upon Him, " she thought, as she laid down Marian's letterand took up the third and last, Helen's letter, dated at FortressMonroe, whither with Mark Ray she had gone just after Bell Cameron'sbridal. 

"You cannot imagine, " she wrote, "the feelings of awe and even terrorwhich steal over me the nearer I get to the seat of war, and the more Irealize the bloody strife we have been engaged in, and which, thank God, has now so nearly ceased. You have heard of John Jennings, the noble manwho saved my dear husband's life, and of Aunt Bab, who helped in thegood work? Both are here. It seems that suspicion was aroused againstthem at last, and Bab was cruelly whipped to make her confess where aUnion prisoner was hidden; but, though the blows cut deep into her back, bringing the blood at every stroke, she never uttered a word; and withher wounds all smarting as they were, she helped the poor boy off, andthen with her master, John Jennings, started for the North. I never sawMark more pleased than when seized around the neck by two long, brawnyarms, while a cheery voice called out: 'Hello, old chap, has you doneforgot John Jennin's?' I verily believe Mark cried, and I know I did, especially when old Bab came up and shook 'young misses' hand. ' I kissedher, Katy--all black, and rough, and uncouth as she was. I kissed hermore than once, and felt honored in doing so. Poor Bab! her back isstill a piteous sight, and I dress it every day, shuddering at thesight, and thanking God that slavery, with all its horrors, is at anend. I wish you could see how grateful the old creature is for every actof kindness. She says 'the very feel of misses' soft, white hands makesher old back better, ' and she praises me continually to Mark, who isjust foolish enough to believe all she says. When we come home again, both John and Bab will come with us, though what we shall do with Johnis 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 withChitty, 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 pleasantroom all to herself, working only when she likes, and doing as shepleases. 

"Did I tell you that Mattie Tubbs was to be my seamstress? I am gettingtogether a curious household, you will say; but I like to have thoseabout me to whom I can do the greatest amount of good, and as I happento know how much Mattie admires 'the Lennox girls, ' I did not hesitateto take her, even though Mark did ask if I intended bringing her intothe parlor to help entertain my company. Mark is a saucy, teasingfellow, and I see more and more how he kept up that dreadfulAndersonville while so many of his comrades died. Dear Mark! can I everbe grateful enough to God for bringing him home?

"We stopped at Annapolis on our way here, and I shall never forget thepale, worn faces, or the great, sunken eyes which looked at me sowistfully as I went from cot to cot, speaking words of cheer to thesufferers, some of whom were Mark's companions in prison, their dim eyeslighting 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 ofthem is to the poor fellows, or how eagerly they watch for her coming, following her with so greedy glances as he moves about the room, andholding her hand with a clasp, as if they would keep her with themalways. Indeed, more than one heart, as I am told, has confessed itsallegiance to her; but she answers all the same: 'I have no love togive. It died out long ago, and cannot be recalled. ' Yon can guess whoshe is, Katy. The soldiers call her an angel, but we know her asMarian. "

There were great tear-blots upon that letter as Katy put it aside, andnestling close to Morris, laid her head upon his knee, where his handcould smooth her golden curls, while she gazed long and earnestly intothe fire, musing upon Helen's closing words, and thinking how much theyexpressed, and how just a tribute they were to the noble woman whoselife had been one constant sacrifice of self for another's good--"Thesoldiers call her an angel, but we know her as Marian. "

THE END.