"Did I understand that the gentleman's name was Cameron?"
"Yes, Wilford Cameron, from New York," Helen answered, holding up her skirts and s-s-kt-ing at the kitten which came running toward her, evidently intent upon springing into her lap.
Fear of cats was Helen's weakness, if weakness it can be called, and in her efforts to frighten her tormentor she did not look again at Miss Hazelton until startled by a gasping cry and heavy fall. Marian had fainted, and Helen was just raising her head from the floor to her lap when Morris appeared, relieving her of her burden, of whom he took charge until she showed signs of life. In her alarm Helen forgot entirely what they were talking about when the faint came on, and her first question put to Marian was: "Were you taken suddenly ill? Why did you faint?"
There was no answer at first, except tears, which quivered on the long eyelashes, and then rolled down the cheeks; but when she did speak she said: "I am still so weak that the least exertion affects me, and I was bending over the table; it will soon pass off."
If she was so weak, she was not able to work, Helen said, proposing that the plan be for the present abandoned; but to this Marian would not listen; her great eager eyes had in them so scared a look that Helen said no more on that subject, but made arrangements for her coming to them at once. Morris was to leave his patient some medicine, and while he was preparing it Helen had time to notice her more carefully, admiring her ladylike manners, and thinking her smile the sweetest she had 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 nothing immodest or unwomanly in her manner, nothing but that peculiar air which attractive women sometimes put on before the other sex. She might not have been conscious of it herself; and yet, when once she met Helen's eyes as she was smiling gratefully upon Dr. Morris, there came a sudden change into her face, and she bit her lip with evident vexation. Could it be that she was fascinated by the young physician who had attended her so long, and who, within the last few months, had grown so popular? Helen asked herself this question several times on her way home, and inquired of Morris what he knew of her.
"Nothing, except that she came to North Silverton a year ago, opening her shop, and by her faithfulness, and pleasant, obliging manners, winning favor with all who employed her. Previous to her sickness she had a few times attended St. Paul's at South Silverton, that being the church of her choice. Had Helen never observed her?"
No, Helen had not. And then she spoke of her fainting, telling how sudden it was and wondering if she was subject to such turns. Marian Hazelton had made a strong impression on Helen's mind, and she talked of her so much that Katy waited her appearance at the farmhouse with feverish anxiety. It was evening when she came, looking very white, and seeming to Helen as if she had changed since she saw her first. In her eyes there was a kind of hopeless, weary expression, while her smile made one almost wish to cry, it was so sad, and yet so strangely sweet. Katy felt its influence at once, growing very confidential with the stranger, who, during the half hour in which they were accidentally left alone, drew from her every particular concerning her intended marriage. Very closely the dark blue eyes scrutinized little Katy, taking in first the faultless beauty of her face, and then going away down into the inmost depths of her character, as if to find out what was there.
"Pure, loving, innocent, and unsuspecting," was Marian Hazelton's verdict, and she followed wistfully every movement of the young girl as she flitted around the room, chatting as familiarly with the dressmaker as if she were a friend long known instead of an entire stranger.
"You look very young to be married," said Miss Hazelton to her once, and shaking back her short rings of hair Katy answered: "Eighteen next Fourth of July; but Mr. Cameron is thirty."
"Is he a widower?" was the next question, which Katy answered with a merry laugh. "Mercy, no! I marry a widower! How funny! I don't believe he ever cared a fig for anybody but me. I mean to ask him."
"I would," and the pale lips shut tightly together, while a resentful gleam shot for a moment across Marian's face; but it quickly passed away, and her smile was as sweet as ever as she at last bade the family good-night and repaired to the little room where Wilford Cameron once had slept.
A long time she stood before the glass, brushing her dark, abundant hair, and intently regarding her own features, while in her eyes there was a hard, terrible look, from which Katy Lennox would have shrunk abashed. But that too passed, and the eyes grew soft with tears as she turned away, and falling on her knees moaned sadly: "I never will—no, I never will, God help me to keep the promise. Were it the other—Helen—I might, for she could bear it; but Katy, that child—no, I never will," and as the words died on her lips there came struggling up from her heart a prayer for Katy Lennox's happiness, as fervent and sincere as any which had ever been made for her since she was betrothed.
They grew to liking each other rapidly, Marian and Katy, the latter of whom thought her new friend greatly out of place as a dressmaker, telling her she ought to marry some rich man, calling her Marian altogether, and questioning her very closely of her previous life. But Marian only told her that she was born in London; that she learned her trade on the Isle of Wight, near to the Osborne House, where the royal family sometimes came, and that she had often seen the present Queen, thus trying to divert Katy's mind from asking what there was besides that apprenticeship to the Misses True on the Isle of Wight. Once, indeed, she went further, learning that Marian's friends were dead; that she had come to America in hopes of doing better than she could at home; that she had stayed in New York until her health began to fail, and then had tried what country air would do, coming to North Silverton because a young woman who worked in the same shop was acquainted there, and recommended the place. This was all Katy could learn, and Marian's heart history, if she had one, was guarded carefully. One day as they sat together alone, when Helen had gone to the village to do some shopping for 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 almost screamed, skipping across the floor and seating herself by Marian, who replied: "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 street driving his handsome bays."
Anything relating to the pride and fashion of her future relations made Katy uncomfortable, and she remained silent, cutting into bits a piece of silk, until Marian continued: "Sometimes there was a child in the Cameron carriage. Do you know who it was?"
Delighted that she too could impart information, Katy hastened to say that it was probably "little Jamie, the orphan grandchild, whose parents died in Italy. Morris told me he met them in Paris, and he said Jamie's father died of consumption, and the mother, too, either then or afterward. At all events Jamie is an orphan and a cripple. He will never walk, Morris says; and he told me so much about him—how patient he was and how good."
Katy did not see the tears which threatened to mar the silk on which Marian Hazelton was working, for they were brushed away almost as quickly as they came, while in her usual voice she asked: "What was the cause of his lameness?"
"I don't know just how it happened," Katy replied, "but believe it resulted from the carelessness of a servant in leaving him alone, or something."
"A servant!" Marian repeated, a flush rising to her cheek and a strange light flashing on her eye.
She had heard all she cared to hear of the Camerons that day, and she was glad when Helen returned from the village, as her appearance diverted Katy's mind into another channel, and in examining the dress trimmings which Helen had brought, she forgot to talk of Jamie Cameron. The trimmings, fringe and buttons were for the wedding dress, the one in which Katy was to be married, and which Helen reserved the right to make to herself. Miss Hazelton must
