“It hurts,” she said, turning her head from side to side; “I am lying on Genevra.”
With a sudden start, Mrs. Cameron drew nearer, but when she remembered the little grave at Silverton, she said, “It’s the baby she’s talking about.”
Morris knew better, and as Katy still continued to move her head as if something were really hurting her, he passed his hand under her pillow and drew out the picture she must have kept near her as long as her consciousness remained. He knew it was Genevra’s picture, and was about to lay it away, when the cover dropped into his hand, and his eye fell upon a face which was not new to him, while an involuntary exclamation of surprise escaped him, as Katy’s assertion that Genevra was living was thus fully confirmed. Marian had not changed past recognition since her early girlhood, and Morris knew the likeness at once, pitying Katy more than he had pitied her yet, as he remembered how closely Marian Hazelton had been interwoven with her married life, and the life of the little child which had borne her name.
“What is that?” Mrs. Cameron asked, and Morris passed the case to her, saying, “A picture which was under Katy’s pillow.”
Morris did not look at Mrs. Cameron, but tried to busy himself with the medicines upon the stand, while she too recognized Genevra Lambert, wondering how it came in Katy’s possession and how much she knew of Wilford’s secret.
“She must have been rummaging,” she thought, and then as she remembered what Esther had said about her mistress appearing sick and unhappy, when her husband left home, she repaired to the parlor and summoning Esther to her presence, asked her again, “When she first observed traces of indisposition in Mrs. Cameron.”
“When she came home from that dinner at your house. She was just as pale as death, and her teeth fairly chattered as I took off her things.”
“Dinner? What dinner?” Mrs. Cameron asked, and Esther replied, “Why, the night Mr. Wilford went away or was to go. She changed her mind about meeting him at your house, and said she meant to surprise him. But she came home before Mr. Cameron, looking like a ghost, and saying she was sick. It’s my opinion something she ate at dinner hurt her.”
“Very likely, yes. You can go now,” Mrs. Cameron said, and Esther departed, never dreaming how much light she had inadvertently thrown upon the mystery.
“She must have been in the library and heard all we said,” Mrs. Cameron thought, as she nervously twisted the fringe of her breakfast shawl. “I remember we talked of Genevra, and that we both heard a strange sound from some quarter, but thought it came from the kitchen. That was Katy. She was there all the time and let herself quietly out of the house. I wonder does Wilford know,” and then there came over her an intense desire for Wilford to come home—a desire which was not lessened when she returned to Katy’s room and heard her talking of Genevra and the grave at St. Mary’s “where nobody was buried.”