New York society as his wife, Mrs. Wilford Cameron. It is true that Katy
had not yet said the all-important word, but she was going to say it,
and when late that afternoon they came up from the walk he had asked her
to take, she was his promised wife.

They had sat together on the very rock where Katy sat that day when
Uncle Ephraim told her of the different paths there were through life,
some pleasant and free from care, some thorny and full of grief. Katy
had never forgotten the conversation, and, without knowing why, she had
always avoided that rock beneath the butternut as a place where there
had been revealed to her a glimpse of something sad; and so, when
Wilford proposed resting there, she at first objected, but yielded at
last, and, with his arm around her, listened to the story of his love.
It was what she had expected and thought herself prepared for, but when
it came it was so real, so earnest, that she could only clasp her hands
over her face, which she hid on Wilford's shoulder, weeping passionately
as she thought how strange it was for a man like Wilford Cameron to seek
her for his wife. Katy was no coquette; whatever she felt she expressed,
and when she could command herself she frankly confessed to Wilford her
love for him, telling him how the fear that he had forgotten her had
haunted her all the long, long winter; and then with her clear, truthful
blue eyes looking into his, asking him why he had not sent her some
message if, as he said, he loved her all the time.

For a moment Wilford's lip was compressed and a flush overspread his
face, as, drawing her closer to him, he replied: "My little Katy will
remember that in my first note I spoke of certain circumstances which
had prevented my writing earlier. I do not know that I asked her not to
seek to know those circumstances; but I ask it now. Will Katy trust me
so far as to believe that all is right between us, and never allude to