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 coarse, 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 basement 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?"
Then Katy came to life, and did that at the very thought of which she
shuddered when a few months' experience had taught her the temerity of
the act--she wound her arms impulsively around Mrs. Cameron's neck,
rumpling her point lace collar, and sadly displacing the coiffeur of the
astonished lady, who had seldom received so genuine a greeting as that
which Katy gave her, kissing her lips and whispering softly: "I love you
now, because you are Wilford's mother, but by and by because you are
mine. And you will love me some because I am his wife."
Wilford was horrified, particularly when he saw how startled his mother
looked as she tried to release herself and adjust her tumbled headgear.
It was not what he had hoped, nor what his mother had expected, for she
was unaccustomed to such demonstrations; but under the circumstances
Katy could not have done better. There was a tender spot in Mrs.
Cameron's heart, and Katy touched it, making her feel a throb of
affection for the childish creature suing for her love.
"Yes, darling, I love you now," she said, removing Katy's clinging arms
and taking care that they should not enfold her a second time. "You are
tired and cold," she continued; "you had better go at once to your
rooms. You will find them in order, and I will send Esther up. There is
plenty of time to dress for dinner," and with a wave of her hand she
dismissed Katy up the stairs, noticing as she went the exquisite
softness of her fur cloak; but thinking it too heavy a garment for her
slight figure, and noticing, too, the graceful ankle and foot which the
little high-heeled gaiter showed to good advantage. "I did not see her
face distinctly, but she has a well-turned instep and walks easily," was
the report she carried to her daughters, who in their own room, over
Katy's, were dressing for dinner.
"She will undoubtedly make a good dancer, then, unless like Dr. Grant,
she is too blue for that," Juno said, while Bell shrugged her shoulders,
congratulating herself that she had a mind above such frivolous matters
as dancing and well-turned insteps, and wondering if Katy cared in the
least for books.
"Couldn't you see her face at all, mother?" Juno asked.
"Scarcely; but the glimpse I did get was satisfactory. I think she is
pretty."
And this was all the sisters could ascertain until their toilets were
finished, and they went down into the library, where their brother
waited for them. He had seen his father and Jamie, and now he arose to
meet his sisters, kissing them both affectionately, and complimenting
them on their good looks.
"I wish we could say the same of you," saucy Juno answered, playfully
pulling his mustache; "but, upon my word, Will, you are fast settling
down into an oldish married man, even turning gray," and she ran her
fingers through his dark hair, where there was now and then a thread of
silver. "Disappointed in your domestic relations, eh?" she continued,
looking him archly in the face.
Wilford was rather proud of his good looks, and during his sojourn
abroad, Katy had not helped him any in overcoming this weakness, but, on
the contrary, had fed his vanity by constant flattery. And still he was
himself conscious of not looking quite as well as usual just now, for
the sea voyage had tired him as well as Katy, but he did not care to be
told of it, and Juno's ill-timed remarks aroused him at once,
particularly as they reflected somewhat on Katy.
"I assure you I am not disappointed," he answered, "and the six months
of my married life have been the happiest I ever knew. Katy is more than
I expected her to be."
Juno elevated her eyebrows slightly, but made no direct reply, while
Bell began to ask about Paris and the places he had visited.
Meanwhile Katy had been ushered into her room, which was directly over
the library and separated from Mrs. Cameron's only by a range of closets
and presses, a portion of which were to be appropriated to her own use.
Great pains had been taken to make her rooms attractive, and as the
large bay window in the library below extended to the third story, it
was really the pleasantest chamber in the house. To Katy it was perfect,
and her first exclamation was one of delight.
"Oh, how pleasant, how beautiful," she cried, skipping across the soft
carpet to the warm fire blazing in the grate. "A bay window, too, when I
like them so much, and such handsome curtains and furniture. I shall be
happy here."
But happy as she was, Katy could not help feeling tired, and she sank
into one of the luxurious easy-chairs, wishing she could stay there all
the evening, instead of going down to that formidable dinner with her
new relations. How she dreaded it, especially when she remembered that
Mrs. Cameron had said there would be plenty of time to dress, a thing
which Katy hated, the process was so tiresome, particularly to-night.
Surely, her handsome traveling dress, made in Paris, was good enough,
and she was about settling in her own mind to venture upon wearing it,
when Esther demolished her castle at once.
"Wear your traveling habit!" she exclaimed, "when the young ladies,
especially Miss Juno, are so particular about their dinner costume?
There would be no end to the scolding I should get for suffering it. So
there's no help, you see," and she began good-naturedly to remove her
mistress' collar and pin, while Katy, standing up, sighed as she said;
"I wish I was in Silverton to-night. I could wear anything there. What
must I put on? How I dread it!" and she began to shiver again.
Fortunately for Katy, Esther had been in the family long enough to know
just what they regarded as proper, as by this means the dress selected,
a delicate pearl-colored silk was sure to please. It was very becoming
to Katy, and having been made in Paris, was not open to criticism.
Esther's taste was perfect, so that Katy was never over-dressed, and she
was very simple and pretty this night, with the rich, soft lace around
her neck and around her white, plump arms, where the golden bands were
shining.
"Very pretty, indeed," was Mrs. Cameron's verdict when at half-past five
she knocked at the door and then came in to see her daughter, kissing
her cheek and stroking her head, wholly unadorned, except by the short,
silken curls which could not be coaxed to grow faster than they chose,
and which had sometimes annoyed Wilford. They made his wife seem so
young beside him. Mrs. Cameron was annoyed, too, for she had no idea
of a head, except as it was connected with a hairdresser, and her
annoyance showed itself as she asked:
"Did you have your hair cut on purpose?"
But when Katy explained, she answered, pleasantly:
"Never mind; it is a fault which will mend every day, only it makes you
look like a child."
"I am eighteen and a half," Katy said, feeling a lump rising in her
throat, for she guessed that her mother-in-law was not quite pleased
with her hair.
For herself, she liked it; it was so easy to brush and fix. She should
go wild if she had to submit to all Esther had told her of hairdressing
and what it involved.
Mrs. Cameron had asked if she would not like to see Mr. Cameron, the
elder, before going down to dinner, and Katy had answered that she
would; so as soon as Esther had smoothed a refractory fold and brought
her handkerchief, she followed to the room where Wilford's father was
sitting. He might not have felt complimented could he have known that
something in his appearance reminded Katy of Uncle Ephraim. He was not
nearly as old or as tall, nor was his hair as white, but the
resemblance, if there were any, lay in the smile with which he greeted
Katy, calling her his youngest child, and drawing her closely to him.
It was remarked of Mr. Cameron that since their babyhood he had never
kissed one of his own children; but when Katy, who looked upon such a
salutation as a matter of course, put up her rosy lips, making the first
advance, he could not resist them, and he kissed her twice. Hearty,
honest kisses they were, for the man was strongly drawn toward the young
girl, who said to him, timidly:
"I am glad to have a father--mine died before I could remember him. May
I call you so?"
"Yes, yes; God bless you, my child," and Mr. Cameron's voice shook as he
said it, for neither Bell nor Juno were wont to address him just as Katy
did--Katy, standing close to him, with her hand upon his shoulder and
her kiss yet fresh upon his lips.
She had already crept a long way into his heart, and he took her hand
from his shoulder and holding it between his own, said to her:
"I did not think you were so small or young. You are my little
daughter, my baby, instead of my son's wife. How do you ever expect
to fulfill the duties of Mrs. Wilford Cameron?"
"It's my short hair, sir. I am not so young," Katy answered, her eyes
filling with tears as she began to wish back the heavy braids which
Helen cut away when the fever was at its height.
"Never mind, child," Mr. Cameron rejoined, playfully. "Youth is no
reproach; there's many a one would give their right hand to be young
like you. Juno, for instance, who is--"
"Hus-band!" came reprovingly from Mrs. Cameron, spoken as only she could
speak it, with a prolonged buzzing sound on the first syllable, and
warning the husband that he was venturing too far.
"It is time to go down if Mrs. Cameron sees the young ladies before
dinner," she said, a little stiffly; whereupon her better half startled
Katy with the exclamation:
"Mrs. Cameron! Thunder and lightning, wife, call her Katy, and don't go
into any nonsense of that kind."
The lady reddened, but said nothing until she reached the hall, when she
whispered to Katy, apologetically:
"Don't mind it. He is rather irritable since his illness, and sometimes
makes use of coarse language."
Katy had been a little frightened at the outburst, but she liked Mr.
Cameron, notwithstanding, and her heart was lighter as she went down to
the library, where Wilford met her at the door, and taking her on his
arm led her in to his sisters, holding her back as he presented her,
lest she should assault them as she had his mother. But Katy felt no
desire to hug the tall, queenly girl whom Wilford introduced as Juno,
and whose large, black eyes seemed to read her through as she offered
her hand and very daintily kissed her forehead, murmuring something
about a welcome to New York. Bell came next, broad-faced,
plainer-looking Bell, who yet had many pretentions to beauty, but whose
manner, if possible, was frostier, cooler, than her sister's. Of the
two, Katy liked Juno best, for there was about her a flash and sparkle
very fascinating to one who had never seen anything of the kind and did
not know that much of this vivacity was the result of patient study and
practice. Katy would have known they were high-bred, as the world
defines high breeding, and something in their manner reminded her of the
ladies she had seen abroad, ladies in whose veins lordly blood was
flowing. She could not help feeling uncomfortable in their presence,
especially as she felt that Juno's black eyes were on her constantly.
Not that she could ever meet them looking at her, for they darted away
the instant hers were raised, but she knew just when they returned to
her again, and how closely they were scanning her.
"Your wife looks tired, Will. Let her sit down," Bell said, herself
wheeling the easy-chair nearer to the fire, while Wilford placed Katy in
it; then, thinking she would get on better if he were not there, he left
the room, and Katy was alone with her new sisters.
Juno had examined her dress and found no fault with it, simply because
it was Parisian make; while Bell had examined her head, deciding that
there might be something in it, though she doubted it, but that, at all
events, short hair was very becoming to it, showing all its fine
proportions, and half deciding to have her own locks cut away. Juno had
a similar thought, wondering if it were the Paris fashion, and if she
would look as young in proportion as Katy did were her hair worn on her
neck.
With their brother's departure, the tongues of both the girls were
loosened, and standing near to Katy, they began to question her of what
she had seen, Juno asking if she did not hate to leave Italy, and did
not wish herself back again. Wholly truthful, Katy answered: "Oh, yes,
I was very sorry, I would rather be there than here."
"Complimentary to us, very," Bell murmured audibly in French, blushing
as Katy's eyes were lifted quickly to hers, and she knew she was
understood.
If there was anything which Katy liked more than another in the way of
study, it was French. She had excelled in it at Canandaigua, and while
abroad had taken great pains to acquire a pure pronunciation, so that
she spoke it with a good deal of fluency, and readily comprehended Bell.
"I did not mean to be rude," she said, earnestly. "I liked Italy so
much, and we expected to stay longer; but that does not hinder my liking
to be here. I hope I did not offend you."
"Certainly not; you are an honest little puss," Bell replied, placing
her hand caressingly upon the curly head laying back so wearily on the
chair. "Here in New York we have a bad way of not telling the whole
truth, but you will soon be used to it."
"Used to not telling the truth! Oh, I hope not!" and this time the blue
eyes lifted so wonderingly to Bell's face had in them a startled look.
"Simpleton," was Juno's comment, while Bell's was: "I rather like the
child," as she continued to smooth the golden curls and wound them
around her finger, wondering if Katy had a taste for metaphysics, that
being the last branch of science which she had taken up.
"I suppose you will find Will a pattern husband," Juno said, after a
moment's pause, and Katy replied: "There never could be a better, I am
sure, and I have been very happy."
"Has he never said one cross word to you in all these six months?" was
Juno's next question, to which Katy answered, truthfully: "Never."
"And lets you do as you please?"
"Yes, just as I please," Katy replied, while Juno continued: "He must
have changed greatly, then, from what he used to be; but marriage has
probably improved him. He tells you all his secrets, too, I presume?"
Anxious that Wilford should appear well in every light, Katy replied at
random: "Yes, if he has any."
"Well, then," and in Juno's black eyes there was a wicked look, "perhaps
you will tell me who was or is the original of that picture he guards so
carefully?"
"What picture?" and Katy looked up inquiringly, while Juno, with a
little sarcastic laugh, continued: "Oh, he has not told you, then. I
thought he would not, he seemed so angry and annoyed when he saw me with
it once three or four years ago. I found it in his room, where he had
accidentally left it, and was looking at it when he came in. It was the
picture of a young girl, who must have been very beautiful, and I did
not blame Will for loving her, if he ever did, but he need not have been
so indignant at me for wishing to know who it was. I never saw him so
angry or so much disturbed. I hope you will ferret the secret out and
tell me, for I have a great deal of curiosity, fancying that picture
had something to do with his remaining so long a bachelor. I do not mean
that he does not love you," she added, as she saw how white Katy grew.
"It is not to be expected that a man can live to be thirty without
loving more than one. There was Sybil Grey, a famous belle, whom I
thought at one time he would marry; but when Judge Grandon offered she
accepted, and Will was left in the lurch. I do not really believe he
cared, though, for Sybil was too much of a flirt to suit his jealous
lordship, and I will do him the justice to say that, however many
fancies he may have had, he likes you best of all," and this Juno felt
constrained to say because of the look in Katy's face, a look which
warned her that in her thoughtlessness she had gone too far and pierced
the young wife's heart with a pang as cruel as it was unnecessary.
Bell had tried to stop her, but she had rattled on until now it was too
late, and she could not recall her words, however much she might wish to
do so. "Don't tell Will," she was about to say, when Will himself
appeared, to take Katy out to dinner. Very beautiful and sad were the
blue eyes which looked up at him so wistfully, and nothing but the
remembrance of Juno's words, "He likes you best of all," kept Katy from
crying outright, when he took her hand, passing it between his own and
asking if she was tired.
"Let us try what dinner will do for you," he said, and in silence Katy
went with him to the pleasant dining-room, where the glare and the
ceremony bewildered her, bringing a homesick feeling as she thought of
Silverton, contrasting the elegance around her with the plain tea table,
graced with the mulberry set instead of the costly china before her.
Never had Katy felt so embarrassed in her life as she did this night,
when seated for the first time at dinner in her husband's home, with all
those criticising eyes upon her, as she knew they were. She had been
very hungry, but her appetite was gone, and she almost loathed the rich
food offered her, feeling so glad when the dinner was ended, and Wilford
asked if she would go then to Jamie's room. He was sitting in his
wheel-chair when they went in, and his eyes turned eagerly toward them,
lighting up with pleasure when Wilford said: "This is your Aunt Katy.
You will love each other, I am sure."
That they would love each other was very apparent from the kisses Katy
pressed upon his lips, and the way in which his arms clung around her
neck as he said: "I am glad you have come, Aunt Katy, and you will tell
me of the good doctor. He is your cousin, Uncle Wilford says."
With Jamie Katy was perfectly at her ease. There was some affinity
between him and herself, and she was glad when Wilford left them alone,
as he wisely did, going back to where his mother and sisters were freely
discussing his bride, his mother calling her a mere child, who would
improve, and Juno saying she had neither manner nor style, while Bell
offered no opinion, except that she was pretty. A part of these
criticisms Wilford heard, and they made his blood tingle, for he had
great faith in their opinions, even though he sometimes savagely
combated them, and into his heart there crept a slight feeling of
dissatisfaction toward Katy, now kneeling on the floor by Jamie's side,
and with her head almost in his lap, talking to him of Morris Grant,
whose very name had a strange power to soothe her.
"You don't seem like an aunt," Jamie said at last, smoothing her short
hair; "you look so like a girl. I wonder, must I call you so? I guess
I must, though, for Uncle Will told me to, and we all mind him, grandma
and all! Do you?" and the child looked curiously at her.
Had Jamie's question been put to her two weeks ago, she would have
hesitated in her answer, and even now she had not waked to the fact that
in all essential points her husband's wish was the law she could not
help obey, but she replied, laughingly: "Yes, I mind him," while Jamie
continued: "I love him so much, and he loves us and you. I heard him
tell grandma so, and by his voice I knew he was in earnest. He never
loved any one half so well before, he said, not even--somebody--I forget
who--a funny name it was."
Katy felt almost as if she were doing wrong, but remembering what Juno
had said of Sybil Grey, she faintly asked:
"Was Sybil the name?"
Jamie hardly thought it was. It seemed more like some town; still, it
might have been, he said, and Katy's heart grew lighter, for Juno's idle
words had troubled her, and Sybil Grey most of all; but if her husband
now loved her best, she did not care so much; and when Wilford came for
her to join them in the parlor, he found her like herself both in looks
and spirits. Mark Ray had been obliged to decline Mr. Cameron's
invitation to dinner, but he was now in the library, Wilford said, and
Katy was glad, for she remembered how he had helped her during that week
of gayety in Boston, when society was so new to her. As he had been
then, so he was now, and his friendly, respectful manner put Katy as
much at her ease as it was possible for her to be in the presence of
Wilford's mother and sisters, who watched her so narrowly.
"I suppose you have not seen your Sister Helen? You know I called there,
of course?" Mark said to Katy; but before she could reply, a pair of
black eyes shot a keen glance at the luckless Mark, and Juno's sharp
voice said, quickly: "Called on her! When, pray? I did not know you had
the honor of Miss Lennox's acquaintance."
Mark was in a dilemma. He had kept his call at Silverton to himself, as
he did not care to be questioned about Katy's family; and now, when it
accidentally came out, he tried to make some evasive reply, pretending
that he had spoken of it, and Juno had forgotten. But Juno knew better,
and from that night dated a strong feeling of dislike, almost hatred,
for Helen Lennox, whom she affected to despise, even though she could be
jealous of her. Wisely changing the conversation, Mark asked Katy next
to play, and as she seldom refused, she went at once to the piano,
astonishing both Mrs. Cameron and her daughters with the brilliancy of
her performance. Even Juno complimented her, saying she must have taken
lessons very young.
"When I was ten," Katy answered. "Cousin Morris gave me my first
exercises himself. He plays sometimes."
"Yes, I knew that," Juno replied. "Does your sister play as well as
you?"
Katy knew that Helen did not, and she answered frankly: "Morris thinks
she does not. She is not as fond of it as I am." Then feeling that she
must in some way make amends for Helen, she added: "But she knows a
great deal more than I do about books. Helen is very smart."
There was a smile on every lip at this ingenuous remark, but only Mark
and Bell liked Katy the better for it. Wilford did not care to have her
talking of her friends, and he kept her at the piano until she said her
fingers were tired, and begged leave to stop.
It was late ere Mark bade them good-night; so late that Katy began to
wonder if he would never go, yawning once so perceptibly that Wilford
gave her a reproving glance, which sent the hot blood to her face and
drove from her every feeling of drowsiness. Even after he had gone the
family were in no haste to retire, but sat chatting with Wilford until
the city clock struck twelve and Katy was actually nodding in her chair.
"Poor child, she is very tired," Wilford said, apologetically, gently
waking Katy, who, really mortified, begged them to excuse her, and
followed her husband to her room, where she was free to ask him what she
must ask before she could ever be quite as happy as she had been before.
Notwithstanding what Jamie had said, Juno's words kept recurring to her
mind, and going up to the chair where Wilford was sitting before the
fire, and standing partly behind him, she said, timidly: "Will you
answer me one thing truly?"
Alone with Katy, Wilford felt all his old tenderness returning, and
drawing her into his lap, he asked her what it was she wished to know.
"Did you love anybody three or four years ago, or ever--that is, love
them well enough to wish to make them your wife?"
Katy could feel how Wilford started, as he said: "What put that idea
into your head? Who has been talking to you?"
"Juno," Katy answered. "She told me she believed that it was some other
love which kept you a bachelor so long. Was it, Wilford?" and Katy's
lips quivered in a grieved kind of way as she put the question.
"Juno be--"
Wilford did not say what, for he seldom swore, and never in a lady's
presence, even if the lady were his wife. So he said, instead:
"It was very unkind in Juno to distress you thus with matters about
which she knew nothing."
"But did you?" Katy asked again. "Was there not a Sybil Grey, or some
one of that name?"
At mention of Sybil Grey, Wilford looked relieved, and answered her at
once:
"Yes, there was a Sybil Grey, Mrs. Judge Grandon now, and a dashing
widow. Don't sigh so wearily," he continued, as Katy drew a gasping
breath. "Knowing she was a widow, I chose you, thus showing which I
preferred. Few men live to be thirty without more or less fancies, which
under some circumstances might ripen into something stronger, and I am
not an exception. I never loved Sybil Grey, nor wished to make her my
wife. I admired her very much. I admire her yet, and among all my
acquaintances there is not one upon whom I would care to have you make
so good an impression as upon her, nor one whose manner you could better
imitate."
"Oh, will she call? Shall I see her?" Katy asked, beginning to feel
alarmed at the very thought of Sybil Grey, with all her polish and
manner.
"She is spending the winter in New Orleans with her late husband's
relatives. She will not return till spring," Wilford replied. "But do
not look so distressed, for I tell you solemnly that I never loved
another as I love you, my wife. Do you believe me?"
"Yes," and Katy's head drooped upon his shoulder.
She was satisfied with regard to Sybil Grandon, only hoping she would
not have to meet her when she came home. But the picture. Whose was
that? Not Sybil's certainly, else Juno would have known. The picture
troubled her, but she dared not speak of it, Wilford had seemed so angry
at Juno. Still, she would probe him a little further, and so she
continued:
"I do believe you, and if I ever see this Sybil I will try to imitate
her; but tell me, if, after her, there was among your friends one better
than the rest, one almost as dear as I am, one whom you sometimes
remember even now--is she living, or is she dead?"
Wilford thought of that humble grave far off in St. Mary's churchyard,
the grave whose headstone bore the inscription: "Genevra Lambert, aged
22," and he answered quickly:
"If there ever was such a one, she certainly is not living. Are you
satisfied?"
Katy answered that she was, but perfect confidence in her husband's
affection had been terribly shaken by Juno's avowal and his partial
admission of an earlier love, and Katy's heart was too full to sleep,
even after she had retired. Visions of Sybil Grey, blended with visions
of another whom she called the "dead fancy," flitted before her mind, as
she lay awake, while hour after hour went by, until tired nature could
endure no longer, and just as the great city was waking up and the
rattle of wheels was beginning to be heard upon the distant pavements,
she fell away to sleep.