Wilford did not tell her that her opinion was not desired, but his manner implied as much, and Helen felt the angry blood prickling through her veins, as she listened to his reply, that it was neither unnatural nor cruel; that many people did it, and his would not be an isolated case.
“Then, if it must be,” Helen said, “pray let it go to Silverton, and I will be its nurse. Katy will not object to that.”
In a very ironical tone Wilford thanked her for her offer, which he begged leave to decline, intimating a preference for settling his own matters according to his own ideas. Helen knew that further argument was useless, and wished herself at home, where there were no wills like this, which, ignoring Katy’s tears and Katy’s pleading face, would not retract one iota, or even stoop to reason with the suffering mother, except to reiterate, “It is only for your good, and every one with common sense will say so.”
Next morning Helen was surprised at Katy’s proposition to drive round to Fourth street, and call on Marian.
“I have a strong presentiment that she can do me good,” Katy said.
“Shall you tell her?” Helen asked, in some surprise; and Katy replied, “Perhaps I may, I’ll see.”
An hour later, and Katy, up in Marian’s room, sat listening intently, while Marian spoke of a letter received a few days since from an old friend who had worked with her at Madam ——‘s, and to whom she had been strongly attached, keeping up a correspondence with her after her marriage and removal to New London, in Connecticut, and whose little child had borne Marian’s name. That child, born two months before Katy’s, was dead, and the mother, finding her home so desolate, had written, beseeching Marian to come to her for the remainder of the winter.
There was an eager look in Katy’s face, and her eyes danced with the new idea which had suddenly taken possession of her. She could not trust baby with Kirby up the river, but she could trust her in New London with Mrs. Hubbell, if Marian was there, and grasping the latter’s arm, she exclaimed, “Is Mrs. Hubbell poor? Would she do something for money, a great deal of money, I mean?”
In a few moments Marian had heard Katy’s trouble, and Katy’s wish that Mrs. Hubbell should take her child in place of the little one dead. “Perhaps she would not harbor the thought for a moment, but she misses her own so much, it made me think she might take mine. Write to her, Marian,—write to-day,—now, before I go,” Katy continued, clasping Marian’s hand, with an expression which, more than aught else, won Marian Hazelton’s consent to a plan which seemed so strange.
“Yes, I will write,” she answered; “I will tell Amelia what you desire.”