Wilford would rather have been with her when she first looked upon Genevra, but there was not time for that, and hastily unlocking his private drawer he carried the case to Katy's room, laying it upon the bureau and saying to her: "I would not mind it now, until it is fully light. Try and sleep a while. You need the rest so much."
Katy knew she had the whole day before her in which to investigate the face of one who once had filled her place, and so she nestled down among her pillows, and soon fell into a quiet sleep, from which Esther, who looked in upon her several times, at last awakened her, asking if she should bring her breakfast to her room.
"Yes, do," Katy replied, adjusting her dress and trying to arrange the matted curls, which were finally confined in a net until Esther's more practiced hands were ready to attack them.
And all this while the picture lay upon the bureau—the square, old-fashioned daguerreotype, which Katy shrank from opening.
"I'll wait till after breakfast," she said; then as the thought came over her that if the face proved as beautiful as Wilford had described, she in her present forlorn condition would feel the contrast deeply, she said, "I'll wait till Esther has fixed my hair; then I will look at Genevra."
Breakfasting did not occupy her long, and Esther soon was busy with her toilet, combing out and looping-back her curls, and bringing a plain dress of rich bombazine, with fresh bands of white crape, as had been worn the previous day. Katy's toilet was complete at last, and as Esther closed the door behind her, Katy, with a trembling hand, took from the drawer, where she had hid it from Esther's eyes, the picture of Genevra Lambert.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE EFFECT.
With a shiver Katy held it a moment in her lap, noticing how old and worn it looked—noticing, too, the foreign mark upon it, and that one hinge was broken, wondering if all this wear had come from frequent use. Had Wilford looked often at that picture?—and if so, what were his feelings as he looked? Was he sorry that Genevra died? Did he sometimes wish her there, instead of Katy Lennox, of Barlow origin? Did he contrast their faces one with the other, giving the preference to Genevra, or was Katy's liked the best? All these questions Katy asked herself, while her fingers fluttered about the clasp, which she half dreaded to unfasten.