when Morris said:

"I dined at Mr. Cameron's, Kitty."

But the brightness gradually faded as Morris described his call and then
repeated Wilford's message.

"And that was all," Katy whispered sorrowfully as she beat the damask
cloth softly with her fingers, shutting her lips tightly together to
keep back her disappointment.

When Morris glanced at her again there was a tear on her long eyelashes,
and it dropped upon her cheek, followed by another and another, but he
did not seem to see it, talking of New York and the fine sights in
Broadway until Katy was herself again, able to take part in the
conversation.

"Please don't tell Helen that you saw Wilford," she said to Morris as he
walked home with her after tea, and that was the only allusion she made
to it, never after that mentioning Wilford's name or giving any token of
the wounded love still so strong within her heart, and waiting only for
some slight token to waken it again to life and vigor.

This was in the winter, and Katy had been very sick since then--so sick
that even to her the thought had sometimes come: "What if I should die?"
but she was too weak, too nearly unconscious, to go further and reflect
upon the terrible reality death would bring if it found her unprepared.
She had only strength and sense enough to wonder if Wilford would care
when he heard that she was dead; and once, as she grew better, she
almost worked herself into a second fever with assisting at her own