aps Bell will do it without my asking,"
she thought, and this hope did much toward keeping her spirits up on
that last day of Katy's stay at home, for she was going back in the
morning. Wilford would not leave her, though she begged to stay. He did
not like the sad expression of her face, and he must take her where she
would have more excitement, hoping thus to win her from her grief, and
perhaps induce her to lay aside her black, which would be so serious a
hindrance to his enjoyment. But Katy clung to that as to a strict,
religious duty, saying to Helen, as in the twilight they sat together
up in their old room, talking of the ensuing winter, which would be so
different from the last:

"If anything besides the feeling that she is so much happier, could
reconcile me to baby's loss, it is the knowing that my mourning will
keep me from the society in which I could not mingle so soon," and her
tears dropped upon the somber robes, which had transformed her so
suddenly from the gay, airy creature of fashion into the sober, quiet
woman who seemed older, soberer than even Helen herself.

They did not see Marian Hazelton again, and Katy wondered at it,
deciding that in some things Marian was very peculiar, while Wilford and
Bell were slightly disappointed, as both had a desire to meet and
converse with one who had been so like a second mother to the little
dead Genevra. Wilford spoke of his child now as Genevra, but to Katy it
was baby still; and, with choking sobs and passionate tears, she bade
good-by to the little mound underneath which it was lying, and then went
back to her city home.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE FIRST WIFE.

Softly and swiftly the hazy September days glided into dun October, who
shook down leafy showers of crimson and of gold upon the withered grass,
and then gave place to the dark November rains, which made the city seem
doubly desolate to Katy, who, like the ghost of her former self, moved
listlessly about her handsome home, starting quickly as a fancied baby
cry fell on her ear, and then weeping bitterly as she remembered the sad
past and thought of the still sadder present. Katy was very unhappy, and
the world, as she looked upon it, seemed utterly cheerless. For much of
this unhappiness Wilford was himself to blame. After the first few days,
during which he was all kindness and devotion, he did not try to comfort
her, but seemed irritated that she should mourn so deeply for the child
which, bu