ught
to see Juno. I know she envies me, though she affects the utmost
contempt for matrimony, and reminds me forcibly of the fox and the
grapes. You see, Arthur Grey is a failure, so far as Juno is concerned,
he having withdrawn from the field and laid himself, with his forty-five
years, at the feet of Sybil Grandon, who will be Mrs. Grey, and a bride
at Saratoga the coming summer. Juno, I believe, intends going, too, as
the bridesmaid of the party; but every year her chances lessen, and I
have very little hope that father will ever call other than Bob his son,
always excepting Morris, of course, whom he really has adopted in place
of Wilford. You don't know, Katy, how much father thinks of you,
blessing the day which brought you to us, and saying that if he is ever
saved, he shall in a great measure owe it to your sweet influence and
consistent life after the great trouble came upon you."

There were tears in Katy's eyes as she read this letter from Bell, and
with a mental prayer of thanksgiving that she had been of any use in
guiding even one to the Shepherd's fold, she took next the letter whose
superscription made her tremble for a moment and turn faint, it brought
back so vividly to her mind the daisy-covered grave in Alnwick, whose
headstone bore Genevra Lambert's name. Marian, who was now at Annapolis,
caring for the returned prisoners, did not write often, and her letters
were prized the more by Katy, who read with a heating heart the kind
congratulations upon her recent marriage, sent by Marian Hazelton.

"I knew how it would end, even when you were in Georgetown," she wrote,
"and I am glad that it is so, praying daily that you may be as happy
with Dr. Grant as to remember the sad past only as some dream from which
you have awakened. I thank you for your invitation to visit Linwood, and
when my work is over I may come for a few weeks and rest in your bird's
nest of a home. Thank God the war is ended; but my boys need me yet, and
until the last crutch has left the hospital, and the last worn figure
gone, I shall stay where duty lies. What my life will henceforth be I do
not know, but I have sometimes thought that with the ample funds you so
generously bestowed upon me, I shall open a school for orphan children,
taking charge myself, and so doing some good. Will you be the lady
patroness, and occasionally enliven us with the light of your
countenance? I have left the hospital but once since you were here, and
th