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 basement.
Now that he was really there, a misgiving as to the propriety of the act
assailed 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 knob. "I'll go
down to the kitchen door, as like enough they've company."
Accordingly Esther, who chanced to be in the basement, 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 basement 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. God 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.