en news came of Morris' intended return,
and Katy, sitting on the piazza step, and gazing dreamily into the
crimson clouds piled against the western sky, seemed not to hear what
her sister was saying. She did hear, however, and the blood leaped more
swiftly through her veins for a moment, as she thought of Morris at
Linwood just as he used to be. But when she remembered Wilford's words,
"He confessed to me that he loved you," she felt only a nervous dread of
Morris' coming, and forthwith set to work to fortify herself at every
point with a stricture of reserve which she was far from feeling.

The day of his return was balmy and beautiful as the days of June are
apt to be, and at an early hour Helen went over to Linwood to see that
everything was in order for his arrival.

"Mrs. Hull will have dinner waiting for him, and I shall stay," she
said to Katy, adding: "I wish you would come over, too. Morris will feel
grateful, I know."

Katy did not reply, but struck softly the chords of the piano and
thought how foolish she was to feel as she did. Suppose Morris had loved
her once, he probably did not now, and even if he did, it could do no
good, for she was the same as dead to all that kind of thing. She had
tried matrimony, and found it--she did not say what. She never allowed
herself to think an unkind thing of Wilford if she could help it, but a
tear dropped upon the piano keys as she unconsciously hummed a part of
the song commencing "I would not, no, I would not, recall the past
again, for mingled with the pleasure was too much grief and pain."

Katy's tears were falling fast by the time the song was ended, but she
dashed them away and sprang from the stool, exclaiming:

"Crying because Morris is coming home, poor, worn-out, half-blind
Morris, who has done so much for the soldiers, I will go up and welcome
him. I will not be so silly as to imagine he still retains a fancy for
an old woman of twenty-three, even if he had one for the girl of
seventeen."

Katy felt very old just then, and walking to the glass, was almost vexed
at the smooth, round face which met her view.

"I ought to look older at twenty-three," she said. "Morris will think
I have not mourned a bit, nor cared for Wilford," and another tear
glistened on her eyelashes as she thought of being accused of
forgetfulness of the dead.

Katy did look very young for twenty-three. Her health was perfect now,
and save as the change in her character showed it