s Helen declined the latter, feeling that,
circumstanced as she was, with her husband in so much danger, it was
better not to mingle much in gay society. She was very happy with Mrs.
Banker, who petted and caressed and loved her almost as much as if she
had been an own daughter. Mark's letters, too, which came nearly every
day, were bright sun spots in her existence, so full were they of tender
love and kind thoughtfulness for her. He was very happy, he wrote, in
knowing that at home there was a dear little brown-haired wife, waiting
and praying for him, and but for the separation from her was well
content now with a soldier's life. Once when he was stationed for a
longer time than usual at some point Helen thought seriously of going to
him for a week or more, but the project was prevented by the sudden
arrival in New York of Katy, who came one night to Mrs. Banker's, her
face as white as ashes, and a strange, wild expression in her eyes as
she said to Helen:

"I am going to Wilford. He is dying. He has sent for me. I ought to go
on to-night, but cannot, my head aches so," and pressing both her hands
upon her head Katy sank fainting into Helen's arms.

CHAPTER XLVII.

GEORGETOWN HOSPITAL.

"GEORGETOWN, February --, 1862.

"MRS. WILFORD CAMERON:

"Your husband cannot live long. Come immediately.

"M. HAZELTON."

So read the telegram received by Katy one winter morning, when her eyes
were swollen with weeping over Morris' letter, which had come the
previous night, telling her how circumstances which seemed providential
had led him to the hospital where her husband was, and where, too, was
Marian Hazelton.

"I did not think it advisable to visit your husband at first," he wrote,
"while Miss Hazelton, who had recently been transferred to this
hospital, also kept out of the way. Nor was it necessary that either of
us should minister to him there, for he was not thought very ill. 'Only
a slight touch of rheumatism, and a low, nervous fever,' said the
attending physician, of whom I inquired. Latterly, however, the fever
has increased to a fearful extent, seating itself upon the brain, so
that he knows neither myself nor Miss Hazelton, both of whom are with
him. She, because she would be here where she heard of danger, and I
because his case was given into my charge. So I am with him now, writing
by his side, while he lies sleeping quietly, and Miss Hazelton bends
over him, bathing his burning head. He does