ne, 18--, Wilford Cameron stood in
his father's parlor, surrounded by the entire family, who, after their
usually early breakfast, had assembled to bid him good-by, for Wilford
was going for his bride, and it would be months, if not a year, ere he
returned to them again. They had given him up to his idol, asking only
that none of the idol's family should be permitted to cross their
threshold, and also that the idol should not often be allowed the
privilege of returning to the place from whence she came. These
restrictions had emanated from the female portion of the Cameron family,
the mother, Juno and Bell. The father, on the contrary, had sworn
roundly as he would sometimes swear at what he called the contemptible
pride of his wife and daughters. Katy was sure of a place in his heart
just because of the pride which was building up so high a wall between
her and her friends, and when at parting he held his son's hand in his,
he said:

"I charge you, Will, be kind to that young girl, and don't, for Heaven's
sake, go to cramming her with airs and nonsense which she does not
understand. Tell her I'll be a father to her; her own, you say, is dead,
and give her this as my bridal present."

He held out a small-sized box containing a most exquisite set of pearls,
such as he fancied would be becoming to the soft, girlish beauty Wilford
had described. Something in his father's manner touched Wilford closely,
making him resolve anew that if Kitty were not happy as Mrs. Cameron it
should not be his fault. His mother had said all she wished to say,
while his sisters had been gracious enough to send their love to the
bride, Bell hoping she would look as well in the poplin and little plaid
as she had done. Either was suitable for the wedding day, Mrs. Cameron
said, and she might take her choice, only Wilford must see that she did
not wear with the poplin the gloves and belt intended for the silk;
country people had so little taste, and she did want Katy to look well,
even if she were not there to see her. And with his brain a confused
medley of poplins and plaids, belts and gloves, pearls and Katy, Wilford
finally tore himself away, and at three o'clock that afternoon drove
through Silverton village, past the little church which the Silverton
maidens were decorating with flowers, pausing a moment in their work to
look at him as he went by. Among them was Marian Hazelton, but she did
not look up, she only bent lower over her work, th