it, and feeling doubly mortified with Katy, whom he found waiting for
him, when at a late hour he left the society of Sybil Grandon and
repaired to his home.

To Katy the time of his absence had seemed an age, for her thoughts had
been busy with the past, gathering up every incident connected with her
married life since she came to New York, and deducing from them the
conclusion that "Wilford's folks" were ashamed of her, and that Wilford
himself might perhaps become so, if he were not already. That would be
worse than death itself, and the darkest hours she had ever known were
those she spent alone that night, sobbing so violently as to bring on a
racking headache, which showed itself upon her face and touched Wilford
at once.

Sybil Grandon was forgotten in those moments of contrition, when he
ministered so tenderly to his suffering wife, whom he felt that he had
wronged. But somehow he could not tell her so then. It was not natural
for him to confess his errors. There had already been a struggle between
his duty and his pride when he had done so, and now the latter
conquered, especially as Katy, grown more calm, began to take the
censure to herself, lamenting her shortcomings, and promising to do
better, even to the imitating of Sybil Grandon, if that would make him
forget the past and love her as before.

Wilford could accord forgiveness far more graciously than he could ask
it, and so peace was restored again, and Katy's face next day looked
bright and happy when seen in her new carriage, which took her down
Broadway to Stewart's, where she encountered Sybil Grandon, and with her
Juno Cameron.

From the latter Katy instinctively shrank, but she could not resist the
former, who greeted her so familiarly that Katy readily forgave her the
pain of which she had been the cause, and could even speak of her to
Wilford without a pang when he next came home to dinner. Still she could
not overcome her dread of meeting her, and she grew more and more averse
to mingling in society, where she might do many things to mortify her
husband or his family, and thus provoke a scene she hoped never again to
pass through.

"Oh, if Helen were only here," she thought, as she began to experience a
sensation of loneliness she had never felt before.

But Helen was not there, nor yet coming there at present. One word from
Wilford had settled that, convincing Katy that it was better to wait
until the autumn, inasmuch as they were goin