“He is alive; he will come back,” Katy always said, and from her perfect faith, Helen, too, caught a glimpse of hope.

Could they have forgotten Mark they would have been happy at the farmhouse now, for with the budding spring and blossoming summer, Katy’s spirits had returned, and her old, musical laugh rang often through the house just as it used to do in the happy days of girlhood, while the same silvery voice which led the chair in the brick church, and sang with the little children their Sunday hymns, often broke forth into snatches of songs, which made even the robins listen, as they built their nests in the trees; while Uncle Ephraim, far from condemning this lightness of spirits, thanked God, who had brought his darling safely through the cloud to where the sun was shining.

If Katy thought of Morris she never spoke of him when she could help it.  It was a morbid fancy to which she clung; that duty to Wilford’s memory required her to forget, or, at least, avoid the man who had so innocently come between them; and when she heard he was coming home she felt more pain than sorrow.  She liked going up to Linwood, as she often did.  Its quiet seclusion, and the beauty of its grounds suited her taste, and she often passed hours in the pleasant summer house, or on the broad piazza, dreaming sometimes of the past, and sometimes, it must be confessed, dreaming of a future, and wondering what it would bring her when Mark came back, as come he would, and Helen was gone for good.  She would be very lonely with people so much older than herself, and who did not understand the different tastes and ways of thinking which she had acquired.  She was very happy at the farmhouse, it is true, and loved its inmates with a deep, unselfish love, but Helen’s frequent absences from home showed her that even the farmhouse could be dreary with no congenial spirit to sympathize with her as Helen did.

Matters were in this state when news came of Morris’ intended return, and Katy, sitting on the piazza step, and gazing dreamily into the crimson clouds piled against the western sky, seemed not to hear what her sister was saying.  She did hear, however, and the blood leaped more swiftly through her veins for a moment, as she thought of Morris at Linwood just as he used to be.  But when she remembered Wilford’s words, “He confessed to me that he loved you,” she felt only a nervous dread of Morris’ coming, and forthwith set to work to fortify herself at every point with a stricture of reserve which she was far from feeling.

The day of his return was balmy and beautiful as the days of June are apt to be, and at an early hour Helen went over to Linwood to see that everything was in order for his arrival.

“Mrs. Hull will have dinner waiting for him, and I shall stay,” she said to Katy, adding:  “I wish you would come over, too.  Morris will feel grateful, I know.”