Family Pride Or Purified by Suffering Part 11

There was a trip to Edinburgh, a stormy pa.s.sage across the Straits of Dover, a two months' sojourn in Paris, and then they went to Rome, where Wilford intended to pa.s.s the winter, journeying in the spring through different parts of Europe. He was in no haste to return to America; he would rather stay where he could have Katy all to himself, away from her family and his own. But it was not so to be, and not very long after his arrival at Rome there came a letter from his mother apprising him of his father's dangerous illness, and asking him to come home at once. The elder Cameron had not been well since Wilford left the country, and the physician was fearful that the disease had a.s.sumed a consumptive form, Mrs. Cameron wrote, adding that her husband's only anxiety was to see his son again. To this there was no demur, and about the first of December, six months from the time he had sailed, Wilford arrived in Boston, having taken a steamer for that city. His first act was to telegraph for news of his father, receiving a reply that he was better; the alarming symptoms had disappeared, and there was now great hope of his recovery.

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, yes."

A moment after he quitted the room, and it was then that Katy, standing before the window, charged the day with what was strictly Wilford's fault. Returning at last to her chair she went off into a reverie as to the new home to which she was going and the new friends she was to meet, wondering much what they would think of her, and wondering most if they would like her. Once she had said to Wilford:

"Which of your sisters shall I like best?"

And Wilford had answered her by asking:

"Which do you like best, books or going to parties in full dress?"

"Oh, parties and dress," Katy had said, and Wilford had then rejoined:

"You will like Juno best, for she is all fashion and gayety, while Bluebell prefers her books and the quiet of her own room."

Katy felt afraid of Bell, and in fact, now that they were so near, she felt afraid of them all, notwithstanding Esther's a.s.surances that they could not help loving her. During the six months they had been together Esther had learned to feel for her young lady that strong affection which sometimes exists between mistress and servant. Everything which she could do for her she did, smoothing as much as possible the meeting which she also dreaded, for though the Camerons were too proud to express before her their opinion of Wilford's choice, she had guessed it readily, and pitied the young wife brought up with ideas so different from those of her husband's family. More accustomed to Wilford's moods than Katy, she saw that something was the matter, and it prompted her to unusual attentions, stirring the fire into a still more cheerful blaze and bringing a stool for Katy, who in blissful ignorance of her husband's real feelings, sat waiting his return from the telegraph office, whither she supposed he had gone, and building pleasant pictures of to-morrow's meeting with her mother and Helen, and possibly Dr.

Morris, if not Uncle Ephraim himself.

The voyage home had been long and wearisome, and Katy, who had suffered from seasickness, was feeling jaded and tired, wishing, as she told Esther, that instead of going to New York direct she could go straight to the farmhouse and "rest on mother's bed," that receptacle for all her childish ills.

"I mean to ask Wilford if I may," she said to herself, and her cheeks grew brighter as she thought of really going home to mother and Helen and 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 he came in, but when he stood behind her and took her head playfully between his hands, she started up, feeling that the weather had changed; it was not as cold and dreary in Boston as she imagined, neither did mother's bed seem as desirable a place to rest upon as the shoulder where she laid her head, playing with Wilford's b.u.t.tons, and saying to him at last:

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

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

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

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

Wilford, when he commenced, had no definite idea as to what he should say, and without meaning it he made Katy moan piteously:

"I don't know what you mean. I would do anything if I knew how. Tell me, how shall I be dignified?"

She was crying so hard that Wilford, while mentally calling himself a fool and a brute, could only try to comfort her, telling her she need not be anything but what she was--that his mother and sisters would love her just as he did--and that daily a.s.sociation with them would teach her all that was necessary.

Katy's tears were stopped at last; but the frightened, anxious look did not leave her face, even though Wilford tried his best to divert her mind. A nervous terror of her new relations had gained possession of her heart, and nearly the entire night she lay awake, pondering in her mind what Wilford had said, and thinking how terrible it would be if he should be disappointed in her after all. The consequence of this was that a very white, tired face sat opposite Wilford next morning at the breakfast served in their private parlor; nor did it look much fresher even after they were in the cars and rolling out of Boston. But when Worcester was reached, and the old home waymarks began to grow familiar, the color came stealing back, until the cheeks burned with an unnatural red, and the blue eyes fairly danced as they rested on the hills of Silverton.

"Only three miles from mother and Helen! Oh, if I could go there!" Katy thought, working her fingers nervously; but the express train did not pause there, and it went so swiftly by the depot that Katy could hardly discover who was standing there, whether friend or stranger.

But when at last they came to West Silverton, and the long train slowly stopped, the first object she saw was Dr. Morris, driving down from the village. He had no intention of going to the depot, and only checked his horse a moment, lest it should prove restive if too near the engine; but when a clear young voice called from the window: "Morris! oh, Cousin Morris! I've come!" his heart gave a great heavy throb, for he knew whose voice that was and whose the little hand beckoning to him. He had supposed her far away beneath Italian skies, for at the farmhouse no intelligence had been received of her intended return, and in much surprise he reined up to the rear door, and throwing his lines to a boy, went forward to where Katy stood, her face glowing with delight as she flew into his arms, wholly forgetful of the last night's lecture on dignity, also forgetful of Wilford, standing close beside her. He had not tried to hold her back when, at the sight of Morris, she sprang away from him; but he followed after, biting his lip, and wishing she had a little more discretion. Surely it was not necessary to half strangle Dr.

Grant as she was doing, kissing his hand even after she had kissed his face a full half dozen times, and all the people looking on. But Katy did not care for people. She only knew that Morris was there--the Morris whom, in her great happiness abroad, she had perhaps slighted by not writing directly to him but once. In Wilford's sheltering care she had not felt the need of this good cousin, as she used to do; but she was so glad to see him, wondering why he looked so thin and sad. Was he sick?

she asked, gazing up into his face with a pitying look, which made him shiver as he answered:

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

And this was true--he was usually busy. But that was not the cause of the thin face, which others than Katy remarked. Helen's words: "It might have been," spoken to him on the night of Katy's bridal, had never left his mind, much as he had tried to dislodge them. Some men can love a dozen times; but it was not so with Morris. He could overcome his love so that it should not be a sin, but no other could ever fill the place where Katy had been; and as he looked along the road through life he felt that he must travel it alone. Truly, if Katy were not yet pa.s.sing through the fire, he was, and it had left its mark upon him, purifying as it burned, and bringing his every act into closer submission to his G.o.d. Only Helen and Marian Hazelton interpreted aright that look upon his face, and knew it came from the hunger of his heart, but they kept silence; while others said that he was working far too hard, urging him to abate his unwearied labors, for they would not lose their young physician yet. But Morris smiled his patient, kindly smile on all their fears and went his way, doing his work as one who knew he must render strict account for the popularity he was daily gaining, both in his own town and those around. He could think of Katy now without a sin, but he was not thinking of her when she came so unexpectedly upon him, and for an instant she almost bore his breath away in her vehement joy.

Quick to note a change in those he knew, he saw that her form was not quite so full, nor her cheeks so round; but she was weary with the voyage, she said, and knowing how seasickness will wear upon one's strength, Morris imputed it wholly to that, and believed she was, as she professed to be, perfectly happy.

"Come, Katy, we must go now," Wilford said, as the bell rang its first alarm, and the pa.s.sengers, some with sandwiches and some with fried cakes in their hands, ran back to find their seats.

"Yes, I know, but I have not asked half I meant to. Oh, how I want to go home with you, Morris," Katy exclaimed, again throwing her arms around the doctor's neck as she bade him good-by, and sent fresh messages of love to the friends at home, who, had they known she was to be there at that time, would have walked the entire distance for the sake of looking once more into her dear face.

"I intended to have brought them heaps of things," she said, "but we came home so suddenly I had no time. Here, take Helen this. Tell her it is real," and the impulsive creature drew from her finger a small diamond set in black enamel, which Wilford had bought in Paris. "She did not need it; she had two more, and she was sure Wilford would not mind,"

she said, turning to him for his approbation.

But Wilford did mind, and his face indicated as much, although he tried to be natural as he replied: "Certainly, send it if you like."

In her excitement Katy did not observe it, but Morris did, and he at first declined taking it, saying Helen had no use for it and would be better pleased with something not half as valuable. Katy, however, insisted, appealing to Wilford, who, ashamed of his first emotion, now seemed quite as anxious as Katy herself, until Morris placed the ring in his purse, and then bade Katy hasten or she would certainly be left.

One more wave of the hand, one more kiss thrown from the window, and the train moved on, Katy feeling like a different creature for having seen some one from home.

"I am so glad I saw him--so glad I sent the ring, for now they will know I am the same Katy Lennox, and I think Helen sometimes feared I might get proud with you," she said, while Wilford pulled her rich fur around her, smiling to see how bright and pretty she was looking since that meeting with Dr. Grant. "It was better than medicine," Katy said, when beyond Springfield he referred to it a second time, and leaning her head upon his shoulder she fell into a refreshing sleep, from which she did not waken until New York was reached, and Wilford, lifting her gently up, whispered to her: "Come, darling, we are home at last."

CHAPTER XIII.

KATY'S FIRST EVENING IN NEW YORK.

The elder Cameron was really better, and more than once he had regretted recalling his son, who he knew had contemplated a longer stay abroad.

But that could not now be helped; Wilford had arrived in Boston, as his telegram of yesterday announced--he would be at home to-day; and No ---- Fifth Avenue was all the morning and a portion of the afternoon the scene of unusual excitement, for both Mrs. Cameron and her daughters wished to give the six months' wife a good impression of her new home.

At first they thought of inviting company to dinner, but to this the father objected. "Katy should not be troubled the first day," he said; "it was bad enough for her to meet them all; they could ask Mark if they chose, but no one else."

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

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

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

She knew it was the Cameron carriage, for Wilford had said it would meet them; but she had not expected it to be just what it was, and she bowed humbly to the polite coachman greeting Wilford and herself so respectfully. "What would our folks say?" she kept repeating to herself as she drove along the streets, where they were beginning to light the street lamps, for the December day was dark and cloudy. It seemed so like a dream that she, who once had picked huckleberries on the Silverton hills, and bound coa.r.s.e, heavy shoes to buy herself a pink gingham dress, should now be riding in her carriage toward the home which she knew was magnificent; and Katy's tears fell like rain as, nestling close to Wilford, who asked what was the matter, she whispered: "I can hardly believe that it is I--it is so unreal."

"Please don't cry," Wilford rejoined, brushing her tears away. "You know I don't like your eyes to be red."

With a great effort, Katy kept her tears back, and was very calm when they reached the brownstone front, far enough uptown to save it from the slightest approach to plebeianism from contact with its downtown neighbors. In the hall the chandelier was burning, and as the carriage stopped a flame of light seemed suddenly to burst from every window as the gas heads were turned up, so that Katy caught glimpses of rich silken curtains and costly lace as she went up the steps, clinging to Wilford and looking ruefully around for Esther, who had disappeared through the bas.e.m.e.nt door. Another moment and they stood within the marbled hall, Katy conscious of nothing definite--nothing but a vague consciousness of refined elegance, and that a handsome, richly-dressed lady came out to meet them, kissing Wilford quietly, and calling him her son--that the same lady later turned to her, saying, kindly: "And this is my new daughter?"