Part 13 (1/2)

”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 wis.h.i.+ng 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 lords.h.i.+p, 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, pa.s.sing 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 embarra.s.sed 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 appet.i.te 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, astonis.h.i.+ng 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.