manner, as he replied that Mr. Cameron had been very busy ever since his return from Silverton, adding: "From what Cameron tells me of your neighborhood there must be some splendid hunting and fishing there, and I had last fall half a mind to try it."
This time there was something comical in the eyes turned so mischievously upon Wilford, who colored scarlet for an instant, but soon recovered his composure, and invited Morris home with him to dinner.
"I shall not take a refusal," he said, as Morris began to decline. "Mother and the young ladies will be delighted to see you again, while Jamie—well, Jamie, I believe, worships the memory of the physician who was 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 did not again object, and two hours later found him in the drawing-room at No. ——Fifth Avenue, receiving the friendly greetings of Mrs. Cameron and her daughter, each of whom vied with the other in their polite attentions to him, while little Jamie, to whose nursery he was admitted, wound his arms around his neck and laying his curly head upon his shoulder, 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 not forgotten the prayer you taught me, and I say it often when my back aches so I cannot sleep and there's no one around to hear but Jesus. I love 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 many days, and Morris Grant did not regret the time spent with the poor crippled boy, teaching him the way of life and sowing the seed which now was bearing fruit. Nor did he regret having accepted Wilford's invitation to dinner, as by this means he saw the home which had well-nigh been little Katy Lennox's. She would be sadly out of place here with these people, he thought, as he looked upon all their formality and ceremony and then contrasted it with what Katy had been accustomed to. Juno would kill her outright, was his next mental comment, as he watched that haughty young lady, dressed in the extreme of fashion and dividing her coquetries between himself and Mr. Ray, who, being every way desirable both in point of family and wealth, was evidently her favorite. She had colored scarlet when first presented to Dr. Grant, and her voice had trembled as she took his offered hand, for she remembered the time when her liking had not been concealed, and was only withdrawn at the last because she found how useless it was to waste her affections upon one who did not prize them.
When Wilford first returned from Silverton he had, as a sore means of forgetting Katy, told his mother and sisters something of the farmhouse and its inmates; and Juno, while ridiculing both Helen and Katy, had felt a fierce pang of jealousy in knowing they were cousins to Morris Grant, who lived so near that he could, if he liked, see them every day. In Paris Juno had suspected that somebody was standing between her and Dr. Grant and how with the quick insight of a smart, bright woman, she guessed that it was one of these same cousins, Katy most likely, her brother having described Helen as very commonplace, and for a time she had hated poor, innocent Katy most cordially for having come between her and the only man for whom she had ever really cared. Gradually, however, the feeling died away, but was revived again at sight of Morris Grant, and at the table she could not forbear saying to him:
"By the way, Dr. Grant, why did you never tell us of those charming cousins, when you were in Paris? Why, Brother Will describes one of them as a little water lily, she is so fair and pretty. Katy, I think is her name. Wilford, isn't it Katy Lennox whom you think so beautiful, and with whom you are more than half in love?"
"Yes, it is Katy," and Wilford spoke sternly, for he did not like Juno's bantering tone, but he could not stop her, and she went on:
"Are they your cousins, Dr. Grant?"
"No, they are removed from me two or three degrees, their father having been only my second cousin."
The fact that Katy Lennox was not nearly enough related to Dr. Grant to prevent his marrying her if he liked, did not improve Juno's amiability, and she continued to ask questions concerning both Katy and Helen, the latter of whom she persisted in thinking was strong-minded, until Mark Ray came to the rescue, diverting her attention by adroitly complimenting her in some way, and so relieving Wilford and Morris, both of whom were exceedingly annoyed.
"When Will visits Silverton again I mean to go with him," she said to Morris at parting, but he did not tell her that such an event would give him the greatest pleasure. On the contrary, he merely replied:
"If you do you will find plenty of room at Linwood for those four trunks which I remember seeing in Paris, and your brother will tell you whether I am a hospitable host or not."
Biting her lip with chagrin, Juno went back to the drawing-room, while Morris returned to his hotel, accompanied by Wilford, who passed the entire evening with him, appearing somewhat constrained, as if there was something on his mind which he wished to say; but it remained unspoken, and there was no allusion to Silverton until as Wilford was leaving, he said:
"Remember me kindly to the Silverton friends, and say I have not forgotten them."
And this was all there was to carry back to the anxious Katy, who on the afternoon of Morris' return from New York was over at Linwood waiting to pour his tea and make his toast, she pretended, though the real reason was shining all over her telltale face, which grew so bright and eager when Morris said:
"I dined at Mr. Cameron's, Kitty."
But the brightness gradually faded as Morris described his call and then repeated Wilford's message.
"And that was all," Katy whispered sorrowfully as she beat the damask cloth softly with her fingers, shutting her lips tightly together to keep back her disappointment.
When Morris glanced at her again there was a tear on her long eyelashes, and it dropped upon her cheek, followed by another and another, but he did not seem to see it, talking of New York and the fine sights in Broadway until Katy was herself again, able to take part in the conversation.
"Please don't tell Helen that you saw Wilford," she said to Morris as he walked home with her after tea, and that was the only allusion she made to it, never after that mentioning Wilford's name or giving any token of the wounded love still so strong within her heart, and waiting only for some slight token to waken it again to life and vigor.
This was in the winter, and Katy had been very sick since then—so sick that 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 reflect upon the terrible reality death would bring if it found her unprepared. She had only strength and sense enough to wonder if Wilford would care when he heard that she was dead; and once, as she grew better, she almost worked herself into a second fever with assisting at her own obsequies, seeing only one mourner, and that one Wilford Cameron. Even he was not there in time to see her in her coffin, but he wept over her little grave and called her "darling Katy." So vividly had Katy pictured all 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 answered laughingly: "Oh, nothing much—only I have been burying myself," and so Morris never dreamed of the real nature of her reveries, or guessed that Wilford Cameron was mingled with every thought. She had forgotten him, he believed; and when, as she grew stronger, he saw how her eyes sparkled at his coming, and how impatient she seemed if he was obliged to hurry off, hope whispered that she would surely be his, and his usually grave face wore a look of happiness which even his patients noticed, feeling themselves better after one of his cheery visits. Poor Morris! he was little prepared for the terrible blow in store for him, when one day early in April he started, as usual, to visit Katy, saying to himself: "If I find her alone, perhaps I'll tell
