Family Pride Or Purified by Suffering Part 39

Wilford meant to be kind, but he did not try to understand or know how I loved the country with its birds and flowers and springing gra.s.s by the well, where the shadows come and go. I used to wonder where they were going, and one day when I watched them I was waiting for Wilford, and wis.h.i.+ng he would come. Would it have been better if he had never come?"

Wilford's body shook with strong emotion as he bent forward to hear Katy's answer to her question.

"Were there no Genevra," she said, "no verse 'what G.o.d hath joined together let no man put asunder,' I should not think so; but there is such a verse, and now I don't know what I think, only I must go. Come, Morris, we will go together, you and I."

She turned partly toward Morris, who made her no reply. He could not, with those fiery eyes fixed upon him, and he sat erect in his chair, while Katy talked of Silverton, and the days gone by until her voice grew very faint, ceasing at last as she fell into a second sleep, heavier, more death-like, than the first. Something in her face alarmed Morris, and in spite of the eyes watching him he bent every energy to retain the feeble pulse, and the breath which grew shorter with each respiration.

"Do you think her dying?" Wilford asked, and Morris replied: "Not yet; but the look about the mouth and nose is like the look which so often precedes death."

And that was all they said until another hour went by, when Morris' hand was laid upon the forehead and moved up under the golden hair where there were drops of perspiration.

"She is saved, thank G.o.d, Mr. Cameron, Katy is saved," was his joyful exclamation, and burying his head in his hands, he wept for a moment like a child, for Katy was restored again.

On Wilford's face there was no trace of tears. On the contrary, he seemed hardening into stone, and in his heart fierce pa.s.sions were contending for the mastery, and urging him on to an act from which, in his right mind, he would have shrunk. Rising slowly at last, he came around to Morris' side, and grasping his shoulder, said:

"Morris Grant, you love Katy Cameron."

Like the peal of a bell on the frosty air the words rang through the room, starting Morris from his bowed att.i.tude, and for an instant curdling his blood in his veins, for he understood now the meaning of the look which had so puzzled him. In Morris' heart there was a moment's hesitancy to know just what to answer, an ejaculatory prayer for guidance, and then lifting up his head, his calm blue eyes met the eyes of black unflinchingly, as he replied:

"I have loved her always."

A blaze like sheet lightning shot from beneath Wilford's eyelashes, and a taunting sneer curled his lip, as he said:

"You, a saint, confess to this?"

It was quite natural, and in keeping with human nature for Wilford to thrust Morris' religion in his face, forgetting that never on this side the eternal world can man cease wholly to sin, that so long as flesh and blood remain, there will be temptation, error and wrong, even among G.o.d's children. Morris felt the sneer keenly; but the consciousness of peace with his Maker sustained him in the shock and, with the same tone he had at first a.s.sumed, he said:

"Should my being what you call a saint prevent my confessing what I did?"

"No, not the confession, but the fact," Wilford answered, savagely. "How do you reconcile your acknowledged love for Katy with the injunctions of the Bible whose doctrines you indorse?"

"A man cannot always control his feelings, but he can strive to overcome them and put the temptation aside. One does not sin in being tempted, but in listening to the temptation."

"Then according to your own reasoning you have sinned, for you not only have teen tempted, but have yielded to the temptation," Wilford retorted, with a sinister look of exultation in his black eyes.

For a moment Morris was silent, while a struggle of some kind seemed going on in his mind, and then he said:

"I never thought to lay open to you a secret which, after myself, is, I believe, known to only one living being."

"And that one--is--you will not tell me that is Katy?" Wilford exclaimed, his voice hoa.r.s.e with pa.s.sion, and his eyes flas.h.i.+ng with fire.

"No, not Katy. She has no suspicion of the pain which, since I saw her made another's, has eaten into my heart, making me grow old so fast, and blighting my early manhood."

Something in Morris' tone and manner inspired Wilford with awe, making him relax his grasp upon the arm, and sending him back to his chair while Morris continued:

"Most men would shrink from talking to a husband of the love they bore his wife, and an hour ago I should have shrunk from it, too, but you have forced me to it, and now you must listen while I tell you of my love for Katy. It began longer ago than she can remember--began when she was my baby sister, and I hushed her in my arms to sleep, kneeling by her cradle and watching her with a feeling I have never been able to define. She was in all my thoughts, her face upon the printed page of every book I studied, and her voice in every strain of music I ever heard. Then, when she grew older, I used to watch the frolicsome child by the hour, building castles even then of the future, when she would be a woman and I a man, with a man's right to win her. I know that she s.h.i.+elded me from many a snare into which young men are apt to fall, for when the temptation was greatest, and I was at its verge, a thought of her was sufficient to lead me back to virtue. I carried her in my heart across the sea, and said when I go back I will ask her to be mine. I went back, but at my first meeting with Katy after her return from Canandaigua she told me of you, and I knew then that hope for me was gone, praying for strength to bear my loss and hide my love from her.

G.o.d grant that you nor she may never experience what I experienced on that day which made her your wife, and I saw her go away. It seemed almost as if G.o.d had forgotten me as the night after the bridal I sat alone at home, and met that dark hour of sorrow. In the midst of it Helen came, discovering my secret, and sympathizing with me until the pain at my heart grew less, and I could pray that G.o.d would grant me a feeling for Katy which should not be sinful. And He did at last, so I could think of her without a wish that she was mine. Times there were when the old love would burst forth with fearful power, and then I wished that I might die. These were my moments of temptation which I struggled to overcome. Sometimes a song, a strain of music, or a ray of moonlight on the floor would bring the past to me so vividly that I would stagger beneath the burden, feeling that it was greater than I could bear. But G.o.d was very merciful and sent me work which took up all my time, leaving little leisure for regrets, and driving me away from my own pain to soothe the pain of others. When Katy came to us last summer there was an hour of trial, when faith in G.o.d grew weak, and I was tempted to question the justice of His dealing with me. But that, too, pa.s.sed, and in my love for your child I forgot the mother in part, looking upon her as a sister rather than the Katy I had loved so well. I would have given my life to have saved that child for her, even though it was a bar between us, a something which separated her from me more than the words she spoke at the altar. Though dead, that baby is still a bar, and Katy is not the same to me she was before that little life came into being. It is not wrong to love her as I do now. I feel no pang of conscience save when something unexpected carries me back to the old ground where I have fought so many battles."

Morris paused a moment, thinking of the time when Katy came to him with her story of Genevra, and wondering if it were best to repeat the incidents of that night. It was not, he finally concluded. It would be better for Katy to tell it herself, and so he added at last: "What I have borne has told upon me terribly. My people say I work too hard, but they look only on the surface--they have never seen that inner chamber of my heart, where only you have been fully admitted. Even Helen knows not half what's there, but I felt that it was due to you, and so have told you all, asking that no shadow of censure shall fall on Katy, who would be greatly shocked to know what you know now."

Morris' manner was that of a man who spoke with perfect sincerity, and it carried conviction to Wilford's heart, disarming him for a time of the fierce anger and resentment he had felt while listening to Morris'

story. Acting upon the good impulse of the moment, he arose, and offering his hand to Morris, he said:

"You have done n.o.bly, Dr. Grant, I believe in your religion now. Forgive me that I ever doubted it. I exonerate you from blame."

And thus they pledged their faith, Wilford meaning then all he said, and feeling only respect for the man who had confessed his love for Katy.

After what had pa.s.sed, Morris felt that it would be pleasanter for Wilford if he were gone, and after a time he suggested returning to Silverton at once, inasmuch as the crisis was past and Katy out of danger. There was a struggle in Wilford's mind as to the answer he should make to this suggestion. It would not be pleasant to see Morris there now, for though he had said he forgave him, there was a feeling of disquiet at his heart, and he at last signified his willingness for him to leave when he thought best.

It was broad day when Katy awoke, so weak as to be unable to turn her head upon the pillow, but in her eyes the light of reason was s.h.i.+ning, and she glanced wonderingly, first at Helen, at her mother, and then at Wilford, as if trying to comprehend what had happened.

"Have I been sick?" she asked in a whisper, and Wilford, bending over her, replied: "Yes, darling, very sick for nearly two whole weeks--ever since I left home that morning, you know."

"Yes," and Katy s.h.i.+vered a little. "Yes, I know. But where is Morris? He was here the last I can remember."

Wilford's face grew dark at once, and stepping back as Morris came in, he said: "She asks for you." Then with a rising feeling of resentment he watched them, while Morris spoke to Katy, telling her she was better, but must keep very quiet, and not allow herself in any way to be excited.

"Have I been crazy? Have I talked much?" she asked, and when Morris replied in the affirmative there came a startled look into her eye, as she said: "Of what or whom have I talked most?"

"Of Genevra," was the answer, and Katy continued: "Did I mention no one else?"

Morris guessed of whom she was thinking, and answered, indifferently: "You spoke of Miss Hazelton in connection with baby, but that was all."

Katy was satisfied, and closing her eyes fell away to sleep again, while Morris made his preparations for leaving. It hardly seemed right for him to go just then, but the only one who could have kept him maintained a frigid silence with regard to a longer stay, and so the first train which left New York for Springfield carried Dr. Grant, and Katy was without a physician.

Wilford had hoped that Mrs. Lennox, too, would see the propriety of accompanying Morris; but she would not leave Katy, and Wilford was fain to submit to what he could not help. No explanation whatever had he given to Mrs. Lennox or Helen with regard to Genevra. He was too proud for that, but his mother had deemed it wise to smooth the matter over as much as possible, enjoining upon them both the necessity of secrecy.

"When I tell you that neither my husband or daughters know it, you will understand that I am greatly in earnest in wis.h.i.+ng it kept," she said.

"It was a most unfortunate affair, and though the divorce is, of course, to be lamented, it is better that she died. We never could have received her as our equal."

"Was anything the matter, except that she was poor?" Mrs. Lennox asked, with as much dignity as was in her nature to a.s.sume.

"Well, no. She had a good education, I believe, and was very pretty; but it makes trouble always where there is a great inequality between a husband's family and that of his wife."

Poor Mrs. Lennox understood this perfectly, but she was too much afraid of the great lady to venture a reply, and a tear rolled down her burning cheek as she wet the napkin for Katy's head, wis.h.i.+ng that she had back again the daughter, whose family she knew the Camerons despised. The atmosphere of Madison Square did not suit Mrs. Lennox, especially when, as the days went by and Katy began to mend, troops of gay ladies called, mistaking her for the nurse, and all staring a little curiously when told that she was Mrs. Cameron's mother. Of course, Wilford chafed and fretted at what he could not help, seldom addressing his mother-in-law on any subject, and making himself so generally disagreeable that Helen at last suggested returning home, inasmuch as Katy was so much better.

There was then a faint remonstrance on his part, but Helen did not waver in her decision, though she pitied Katy, who, when the day of her departure came and they were for a few moments alone, took her hand between her own and kissing it fondly, said: "You don't know how I dread your going or how wretched I shall be without you. Everything which once made me happy has been removed or changed. Baby is dead, and Wilford--oh, Helen, I sometimes wish I had not heard of Genevra, for I am afraid it can never be with us as it was once; that is, I have not quite the same trust in him, and he seems so changed. Have you noticed how silent and moody he has grown?"

Helen had noticed it, but she would not say so, and she tried to comfort her sister, telling her she would be very happy yet; "but, Katy darling," she continued, "you have a duty to perform as well as Wilford.

Your heart is very sore now because of the deception, but you must not let that soreness appear in your manner. You must be to Wilford just what you always were, unless you wish to wean him from you. He, too, has had a terrible shock; his pride and self-love have been wounded, and men like him do not like being humbled as he has been. You must soothe him, Katy, and smooth his ruffled feathers, proving to him that you can and do forgive the past. And, Katy, remember you have a Friend always near to whom you can carry your burdens, sure that He will listen and heal the smarting pain. Go to Him often and make Him yours indeed. He has come very near to you within the last year, and such visitations have a meaning in them. Listen, then, lest He should come again and visit you with greater sufferings."

"Purified by Suffering." The words came floating back to Katy, just as Uncle Ephraim had spoken them in the pleasant meadowland, and just as they had sometimes haunted her since, but never having so deep a meaning as now, when Helen's words suggested them again. She was suffering, oh, so terribly, but was she purifying, too? She feared not, and after the sad parting with her mother and sister was over she turned her face to her pillow, trying so hard to pray that G.o.d would make her His own, and by the suffering He sent purify her for heaven.

CHAPTER XLI.

DOMESTIC TROUBLES.