Family Pride Or Purified by Suffering Part 43

Ever since inquiries had been made at the office for Wilford's whereabouts, Tom had been uneasy, for he could not forget the savage look in Wilford's face when he first told him of Katy and Dr. Grant; and when he heard that instead of going to Yonkers Wilford had taken the cars for Philadelphia, he was certain something was wrong, and longed to confess to Katy what he knew of the matter. He had no idea of meddling, but came with the kindest intentions, thinking he should feel better when the load was off his mind. He was then poorly prepared for his fierce reception from Mr. Cameron, who asked so energetically what he had to say.

"It wasn't much," Tom began. "I only wanted to tell her maybe I was to blame for repeating what I saw."

"What did you see?" and Mr. Cameron laid his hand on Tom's coat collar as if to shake the information out of him.

But there was no need of this, for the frightened youth told quickly what he had come to tell, seeming so sorry and appearing so hurt withal that the elder Cameron grew very gracious, and dismissed him with the conviction that Katy had nothing to fear from Tom Tubbs. Mrs. Cameron was with her now, giving her kisses and words of sympathy, telling her Wilford would come back, and adding that in any event no one could or should blame her.

"I have heard the whole from husband; it was a misunderstanding, that is all. Wilford was wrong to deceive you about Genevra. I was wrong to let him; but we will have no more concealments. You think she is living still--that she is Marian Hazelton?" and Mrs. Cameron smoothed Katy's hair as she talked, trying to be motherly and kind, while her heart beat more painfully at thoughts of a Genevra living than it ever had on thoughts of a Genevra dead.

She did not doubt the story, although it seemed so strange, and it made her faint as she wondered if the world would ever know and what it would say if it did. That her husband would tell if she failed in a single point she was sure, but she should not fail; she would swear Katy was innocent of everything, if necessary, while Juno and Bell should swear too. 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 followed Wilford's disappearance not a word was breathed against Katy, whose cause the family espoused so warmly. Bell and the father because they really loved and pitied her, and Mrs. Cameron and Juno because it saved them from the disgrace which would have fallen on Wilford had the fashionable world known then of Genevra.

The sudden disappearance of a man like Wilford Cameron could not fail even in New York to cause some excitement, especially in his own immediate circle of acquaintances, and for several days the matter was discussed in all its phases, and every possible opinion and conjecture offered as to the cause of his strange conduct. Insanity! how many sins it is made to cover, and how often is it pleaded for an excuse when no other 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 suggestion was seized and handed from one to another, some remembering little things which tended to confirm the belief, others slyly shrugging their shoulders as they responded: "Very probable," but all tacitly allowing the understanding to prevail that insanity had made Wilford Cameron a voluntary wanderer from home. They could not believe in domestic troubles when they saw how his family clung to and defended Katy from the least approach of censure, Juno taking up her abode with her "afflicted sister" until such time as Wilford could be heard from or more definite arrangements be made; Mrs. Cameron driving around each day to see her; Bell always speaking of her with genuine affection, while the father clung to her like a hero, the quartet forming a barrier across which the shafts of scandal could not reach.

CHAPTER XLIII.

WHAT FOLLOWED.

And where the while was Wilford? Fortunate, indeed, is it for the disappointed, desperate men of the present day that when their horizon is blackest and life seems not worth preserving, they can leave the past behind and find a refuge in the army. To Wilford it presented itself at once as the place of all others. Anything which could divert his mind was welcome, and ere the close of that first day of Katy's return from Yonkers, his name was enrolled in the service of his country. He had gone directly to Washington, stumbling accidentally upon an old college acquaintance who was getting up a company, and whose first lieutenant had disappointed him. Learning Wilford's wishes he offered him the post, which was readily accepted, and ere four days were gone Lieutenant Wilford Cameron, with no regret as yet for the past, marched away to swell the ranks of men who, led by General McClellan, were pressing on, as they believed, to Richmond and victory. A week of terrible suspense went 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, but I am not sorry for the step I've taken. When I am I shall probably come back, 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, moved slowly over the short letter, weighing every word, and then were lifted sadly to her father's face as she said: "I will write and tell him all the truth, and on his answer will depend my future course."

This she said referring to the question she had raised as to whether in case Wilford did not come back she should remain in New York or go to Silverton, where as yet they were ignorant of her affliction, for Uncle Ephraim had not told of the telegram, and Katy would not alarm them until 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 had protested of her innocence and ended by calling his son a "confounded fool" and telling him to throw up his shoulder straps, which "only honest men had a right to wear, and come home where he belonged."

To this there came an angry, indignant answer, bidding the father attend to his own business, and allow the son to attend to his. To Katy, however, Wilford wrote in a different strain, showing here and there marks of tenderness and relenting, but saying what he had done could not now be helped--he was in for a soldier's life of two years, and should abide his choice. At the idea of Genevra's being alive he scoffed; he knew better than that, and even if she were why need Katy have gone with it to Morris. Surely she should have had the discretion to keep something to herself.

This was the purport of Wilford's letter to Katy, who when she had finished reading said, sorrowfully:

"Wilford never loved me. It was a mere fancy, a great mistake, and I cannot stay in his home, knowing that I am not trusted and respected as a wife should be. I will go to Silverton. There is room for me there. I shall write to Helen to-day."

Meanwhile at Silverton, Uncle Ephraim, still keeping the telegram a secret, grew more and more anxious as there came no news of Katy. What did the silence mean? Uncle Ephraim pondered the matter all day long, holding conversations with himself upon the subject, and finally making up his mind to the herculean task of going to New York to see what was the 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 going to see.

No one ever thought of opposing Uncle Ephraim, and the following day found him ready for the journey Aunt Betsy had taken before him.

Presuming upon her experience as a traveler, that good dame had proffered sundry pieces of advice with reference to what it was best for him to do on the road, telling him which side of the car to sit, where to get out, and above all things not to shake hands with the conductor when asked for his ticket.

Uncle Ephraim heard her good-humoredly, and stuffing into his pocket the paper of ginger-snaps, fried cakes and cheese, which Aunt Hannah had prepared for his lunch, he started for the cars, and was soon on his way to New York.

In his case there was no Bob Reynolds to offer aid and comfort, and the old man was nearly torn in pieces by the burly hackman, who, the moment he appeared to view, pounced upon him as lawful prey, each claiming the honor of taking him wherever he wished to go, and raising such a din about his ears that he finally turned away thoroughly disgusted, telling them:

"He had feet and legs, and common sense, and he guessed he could find his 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 in finding the number without difficulty.

"This is it," he said, stopping in front of the tall building, and examining it closely from the roof to the bas.e.m.e.nt.

Now that he was really there, a misgiving as to the propriety of the act a.s.sailed 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 k.n.o.b. "I'll go down to the kitchen door, as like enough they've company."

Accordingly Esther, who chanced to be in the bas.e.m.e.nt, was startled by a heavy knock, and was startled still more at the tall, white-haired man who addressed her as "Sis," and asked if "Miss Cameron was to hum."

"A man in the kitchen asking for me!" Katy exclaimed, when Esther reported the message, and with her mind full of possible news from Wilford, she ran hastily down the bas.e.m.e.nt stairs, and with a loud scream of joy threw herself into Uncle Ephraim's arms, an act which so astonished Phillips that she dropped the dish of soup she was preparing for the dinner table, the greasy liquid bespattering Katy's dress, and bringing her to a sense of where she was, and that she should not be there.

"Come upstairs," she said, holding Uncle Ephraim's hand, and leading him to the parlor, while the first tears she had shed since she knew she was deserted rained in torrents over her face.

"What is it, Katy-did? I mistrusted something was wrong. What has happened?" Uncle Ephraim asked, and with his arm thrown protectingly around her, Katy told him what had happened, and then asking what she should do.

"Do?" the old man repeated. "Go home with me to your own folks until he comes 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 has misused you the wust way. You need not deny it, for it's writ all over your face," he continued, as Katy tried to stop him, for sore as was her heart with the great injustice done her, she would not have Wilford blamed.

He was her husband still, and she had loved him so fondly that, whether worthy 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 was announced.

Leading him to the table, she presented him to Juno, whose cold nod and haughty stare were lost on the old man presiding with so much patriarchal dignity at the table, and bowing his white head so reverently as he asked the first blessing which had ever been said at that table, except as Helen or Morris had breathed a prayer of thanks for the bounty provided.

It had not been a house of prayer--no altar had been erected for the morning and evening sacrifice. G.o.d had almost been forgotten, and now He was pouring His wrath upon the handsome dwelling, making it so distasteful that Katy was anxious to leave it, and expressed her willingness to accompany Uncle Ephraim to Silverton as soon as the necessary 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 he will, she must come, of course. But she grows poor here in the city. It don't agree with her like the scent of the clover and the breeze from the hills. So, shet up the house for a spell, and let the child come with me."

Mr. Cameron knew that Katy would be happier at Silverton, and though he disliked to part with her, he finally consented to her going, and placed at her disposal a sum which seemed to the deacon a little fortune in itself.

In the kitchen there were sad faces when the servants heard of the arrangement which was to deprive them not only of a pleasant home, but of a mistress whom they both respected and loved. Esther pleaded hard to go with Katy, and only the latter's promise that possibly she might come by and by was of any avail to stay the tears which dropped so fast as she put up her mistress' dresses, designed for Silverton, and laid away the gayer, richer ones, which would be so sadly out of place upon her now.

To Mrs. Cameron and Juno it was a relief to have Katy taken from their hands, and though they made a show of opposition, they were easily quieted, and helped her off with alacrity, the mother promising to see that the horse was promptly called for, and Juno offering to send the latest fashion which might be suitable, as soon as it appeared. Bell was heartily sorry to part with the young sister who seemed going from her forever.

"I know you will never come back. Something tells me so," she said as she stood with her arms around Katy's waist, and her lips occasionally touching Katy's forehead. "But I shall see you," she continued; "I am coming to the farmhouse in the summer, to stay ever so long; and you may say to Aunt Betsy that I like her ever so much, and"--here Bell glanced behind her, to see that no one was listening, and then continued--"tell her a certain officer was sick a few days in a hospital last winter, and one of his men brought to him a dish of the most delicious dried peaches he ever ate. That man was from Silverton, and the fruit was sent to him, he said, in a salt bag, by a nice old lady, for whose brother he used to work. Just to think, that the peaches I helped to pare, coloring my hands so that the stain did not come off in a month, should have gone so straight to Bob," and Bell's fine features shone with a light which would have told Bob Reynolds he was beloved, even if the lips did not refuse to confess it.

"I'll tell her," Katy said, and then bidding them all good-by, and putting her hand on Uncle Ephraim's arm she went with him from the home where she had lived but two short years, and those the saddest, most eventful ones of her short life.

CHAPTER XLIV.

MARK AND HELEN.

There was much talk and wonder in Silverton when it was known that Katy had come home to stay until her husband returned from the war, and at first the people were inclined to gossip and hint at some mystery or possible estrangement; but this was brought to an end when the postmaster's wife told of a letter which had come to Mrs. Wilford Cameron from the Army of the Potomac, and of the answer returned within three days to Lieutenant Wilford Cameron, Co., --th Regt., N. Y. V., etc. It must be all right, the gossips said, after that, but they watched Katy curiously as she came among them again, so quiet, so subdued, so unlike the Katy of old that they would hardly have recognized her but for the beauty of her face and the sunny smile she gave to all, but which rested oftenest on the poor and suffering, who blessed her as the angel of their humble homes, praying that G.o.d would remember her for all she was to them. The gold was purified at last, the dross removed, and Katy, in her beautiful consistent life, seemed indeed like some bright angel straying among the haunts of men, rather than the weak and ofttimes sorely tempted mortal, which she knew herself to be.