t in some way atone for his awkward speech regarding Aunt
Betsy, he sought out Helen, still standing like a statue and watching
the feathery line of smoke rising above the distant trees. Her bonnet
had partially fallen from her head, revealing her bands of rich brown
hair and the smooth, broad forehead, while her hands were locked
together, and a tear trembled on her dark eyelashes. Taken as a whole
she made a striking picture standing apart from the rest and totally
oblivious to them all, and Mark gazed at her a moment curiously; then as
her attitude changed and she drew her hat back to its place he advanced
toward her, and making some pleasant remark about the morning and the
appearance of the country generally. He knew he could not openly
apologize, but he made what amends he could by talking to her so
familiarly that Helen almost forgot how she hated him and all others who
like him lived in New York and resembled Wilford Cameron. It was Mark
who led her to the carriage which Morris said was waiting, Mark who
handed her in, smoothing down carefully the folds of her dress, and then
stood leaning against the door, chatting with Morris, who thought once
of asking him to enter and go back to Linwood. But when he remembered
how unequal he was to entertaining any one that day, he hesitated,
saying merely:

"On your way from Boston call and see me. I shall be glad of your
company then."

"Which means that you do not wish it now," Mark laughingly rejoined, as,
offering his hand to both Morris and Helen, he again touched his hat
politely and walked away.

CHAPTER XI.

AFTER THE MARRIAGE.

"Why did you invite him to Linwood?" Helen began. "I am sure we have
had city guests enough. Oh, if Wilford Cameron had only never come, we
should have had Katy now," and the sister-love overcame every other
feeling, making Helen cry bitterly as they drove back to the farmhouse.

Morris could not comfort her then, for he needed it the most, and so in
silence he left her and went on his way to Linwood, which seemed as if a
funeral train had left it, bearing away all Morris' life and love, and
leaving only a cheerless blank. It was well for him that there were many
sick ones on his list, for in attending to them he forgot himself in
part so that the day with him passed faster than at the farmhouse, where
life and its interests seemed suddenly to have stopped. Nothing had
power to rouse Helen, who never realized how much she love