her face, and making her even dare
to meet Morris alone and speak to him naturally. Ever since her return
to Silverton she had studiously avoided him, and a stranger might have
said they were wholly indifferent to each other; but that stranger would
not have known of Morris' daily self-discipline or of the one little
spot in Katy's heart kept warm and sunny by the knowing that Morris
Grant had loved her, even if the love had died, as she hoped it had. It
would be better for them all, and so, lest by word or deed she should
keep the germ alive, she seldom addressed him directly, and never went
to Linwood unless some one was with her to prevent her being left with
him alone. A life like this could not be pleasant for Morris, and as
there seemed to be a lack of competent physicians in the army, he, after
prayerful deliberation, accepted a situation offered him as surgeon in a
Georgetown hospital, and early in June left Silverton for his new field
of labor.

True to her promise, Bell came at the last of July to Silverton,
proving herself a dreadful romp as she climbed over the rocks in Aunt
Betsy's famous sheep pasture, or raked the hay in the meadow, and
proving herself, too, a genuine woman, as with blanced cheek and anxious
heart she waited for tidings from the battles before Richmond, where the
tide of success seemed to turn, and the North, hitherto so jubilant and
hopeful, wore weeds of mourning from Maine to Oregon. Lieutenant Bob was
there, and Wilford, too; and so was Captain Ray, digging in the marshy
swamps, where death floated up in poisonous exhalations--plodding on the
weary march, and fighting all through the seven days, where the sun
poured down its burning heat and the night brought little rest. No
wonder, then, that the three faces at the farmhouse grew white with
anxiety, or that three pairs of eyes grew dim with watching the daily
papers. But the names of neither Wilford, Mark, nor Bob were ever found
among the wounded, dead, or missing, and with the fall of the first
autumn leaf Bell returned to the city, more puzzled, more perplexed than
ever with regard to Helen Lennox's real feelings toward Captain Ray.

Rapidly autumn went by, bringing at last the week before Christmas, when
Mark came home for a few days, looking ruddy and bronzed from exposure
and hardship, but wearing the disappointed, listless look which Bell was
quick to detect, connecting it in some way with Helen Lennox. Only once
did he call