his duty, was, as it seemed to him, wasting his life among people who could not appreciate his character, though they might idolize the man. But this did not reconcile Wilford one whit the more to Silverton. Uncle Ephraim had completed the work commenced by the two feather beds, and at the breakfast, spread next morning in the coziest of breakfast-rooms, he announced his intention of returning to New York that day. To this Morris offered no objection, but asked to be remembered to the mother, the sisters, and little Jamie, and then invited Wilford to stop altogether at Linwood when he came again to Silverton.
"Thank you; but it is hardly probable that I shall be here very soon," Wilford replied, adding, as he met the peculiar glance of Morris' eye: "I found Miss Katy a delightful traveling acquaintance, and on my way from Newport thought I would renew it and see a little of rustic life."
Poor Katy! how her heart would have ached could she have heard those words and understood their meaning, just as Morris did, feeling a rising indignation for the man with whom he could not be absolutely angry, he was so self-possessed, so pleasant and gentlemanly, while better than all, was he not virtually giving Katy up? and if he did, might she not turn at last to him?
These were Morris' thoughts as he walked with Wilford across the fields to the farmhouse, where Katy met them with her sunniest smile, singing to them, at Wilford's request, her sweetest song, and making him half wish he could revoke his hasty decision and tarry a little longer. But it was now too late for that; the carriage which would take him to the depot was already on its way from Linwood; and when the song was ended he told her of his intentions to leave on the next train, feeling a pang when he saw how the blood left her cheek and lip, and then came surging back as she said timidly: "Why need you leave so soon?"
"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 Morris and 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, who had never loved her so well as that very moment when resolving to cast her off.
And as for Katy, she mentally called herself a fool for suffering Wilford 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 to have him leave her so suddenly hurt her cruelly.
For a moment Wilford was strongly tempted to throw all family pride aside, and ask that young girl to be his; but thoughts of his mother, of Juno and Bell, and more than all, thoughts of Uncle Ephraim and his Sister Betsy, arose in time to prevent it, and so he only kissed her forehead caressingly as he said good-by, telling her that he should not soon forget his visit to Silverton, and then as the carriage drove up, going out to where the remainder of the family were standing together and commenting upon his sudden departure.
It was not sudden, he said, trying to explain. He really had thought seriously of going yesterday, and feeling that he had something to atone for, he tried to be unusually gracious as he shook their hands, thanking them for their kindness, but seeming wholly oblivious to Aunt Betsy's remark that "she hoped to see him again, if not at Silverton, in New York, where she wanted dreadfully to visit, but never had on account of the 'bominable prices charged to the taverns, and she hadn't no acquaintances there."
This was Aunt Betsy's parting remark, and after Katy, simple-hearted Aunt Betsy liked Wilford Cameron better than any one of the group which watched him as he drove rapidly from their door. Aunt Hannah thought him too much stuck up for farmer's folks, while Mrs. Lennox, whose ambition would have accounted him a most desirable match for her daughter, could not deny that his manner toward them, though polite in the extreme, was that of a superior to people greatly beneath him; while Helen, who saw clearer than the rest, read him tolerably aright, and detected the struggle between his pride and his love for poor little Katy, whom she found sitting on the floor, just where Wilford left her standing, her head resting on the chair and her face hidden in her hands as she sobbed quietly, hardly knowing why she cried or what to answer when Helen asked what was the matter.
"It was so queer in him to go so soon," she said; "just as if he were offended about something."
"Never mind, Katy," Helen said, soothingly. "If he's for you he will come back again. He could not stay here always, of course; and I must say I respect him for attending to his business, if he has any. He has been gone from home for weeks, you know."
This was Helen's reasoning; but it did not comfort Katy, whose face looked white and sad, as she moved listlessly about the house, almost crying again when she beard in the distance the whistle of the train which was to carry Wilford Cameron away, and end his first visit to Silverton.
CHAPTER VI.
IN THE SPRING.
Katy Lennox had been very sick, and the bed where Wilford slept had stood in the parlor during the long weeks while the obstinate fever ran its course; but she was better now, and sat nearly all day before the fire, sometimes trying to crochet a little, and again turning over the books which Morris had brought to interest her—Morris, the kind physician, who had attended her so faithfully, never leaving her while the fever was at its height, unless it was necessary, but staying with her day and night, watching her symptoms carefully, and praying so earnestly that she might not die—not, at least, until some token had been given that again in the better world he should find her, where partings were unknown and where no Wilford Camerons could contest the prize with him. Not that he was greatly afraid of Wilford now; that fear had mostly died away just as the hope had died from Katy's heart that she would ever meet him again.
Since the September morning when he left her, she had not heard from him except once, when in the winter Morris had been to New York, and having a few hours' leisure on his hands had called at Wilford's office, receiving a most cordial reception, and meeting with young Mark Ray, who impressed him as a man quite as highly cultivated as Wilford; and possessed of more character and principle. This call was not altogether of Morris' seeking, but was made rather with a view to pleasing Katy, who, when she learned that he was going to New York, had said inadvertently: "Oh, I do so hope you'll meet with Mr. Cameron, for then we shall know that he is neither sick nor dead, as I have sometimes feared."
And so, remembering this, Morris had sought out his rival, feeling more than repaid for the mental effort it had cost him, when he saw how really glad Wilford seemed to meet him. The first commonplaces over, Wilford inquired for Katy. Was she well, and how was she occupying her time this winter?
"Both Helen and Katy are pupils of mine," Morris replied, "reciting their lessons to me every day when the weather will admit of their crossing the fields to Linwood. We have often wondered what had become of you, that you did not even let us know of your safe arrival home," he added, looking Wilford fully in the eye, and rather enjoying his confusion as he tried to apologize.
He had intended writing, but an unusual amount of business had occupied his time. "Mark will tell you how busy I was," and he turned appealingly to his partner, in whose expressive eyes Morris read that Silverton was not unknown to him.
But if Wilford had told him anything derogatory of the farmhouse or its inmates, it did not appear
