The Cameron pride; or, purified by suffering

by Mary Jane Holmes

Katy was waiting for him, and he did not hesitate to kiss her more than once as he kept her for a moment in his arms, and then held her off to see if her illness had left any traces upon her. It had not, except it were in the increased delicacy of her complexion and the short hair now growing out in silky rings. She was very pretty in her short hair, but Wilford felt a little impatient as he saw how childish it made her look, and thought how long it would take for it to attain its former length. He was already appropriating her to himself, and devising ways of improving her. In New York, with Morris Grant standing before his jealous gaze, he could see no fault in Katy, and even now, with her beside him, and the ogre jealousy gone, he saw no fault in her; it was only her hair, and that would be remedied in time; otherwise she was perfect, and in his delight at meeting her again he forgot to criticise the farm-house and its occupants, as he had done before.

They were very civil to him—the mother overwhelmingly so, and Wilford could not help detecting her anxiety that all should be settled this time. Helen, on the contrary, was unusually cool, confirming him in his opinion that she was strong-minded and self-willed, and making him resolve to remove Katy as soon as possible from her influence. When talking with his mother he had said that if Katy told him “yes,” he should probably place her at some fashionable school for a year or two; but on the way to Silverton he had changed his mind. He could not wait a year, and if he married Katy at all, it should be immediately. He would then take her to Europe, where she could have the best of teachers, besides the advantage of traveling; and it was a very satisfactory picture he drew of the woman whom he should introduce into New York society as his wife, Mrs. Wilford Cameron. It is true that Katy had not yet said the all-important word, but she was going to say it, and when late that afternoon they came from the walk he had asked her to take, she had listened to his tale of love and was his promised wife. Katy was no coquette; whatever she felt she expressed, and she had frankly confessed to Wilford her love for him, telling him how the fear that he had forgotten her had haunted her all the long winter; and then with her clear, truthful blue eyes looking into his, asking him why he had not sent her some message if as he said, he loved her all the time.

For a moment Wilford’s lip was compressed and a flush overspread his face, as, drawing her closer to him, he replied, “My little Katy will remember that in my first note I spoke of certain circumstances which had prevented my writing earlier. I do not know that I asked her not to seek to know those circumstances; but I ask it now. Will Katy trust me so far as to believe that all is right between us, and never allude to these circumstances?”

He was kissing her fondly, and his voice was so winning that Katy promised, and then came the hardest, the trying to tell her all, as he had said to his mother he would. Twice he essayed to speak, and as often something sealed his lips, until at last he began, “You must not think me perfect, Katy, for I have faults, and perhaps if you knew my past life you would wish to revoke your recent decision and render a different verdict to my suit. Suppose I unfold the blackest leaf for your inspection?”

“No, no, oh no,” and Katy playfully stopped his mouth with her hand. “Of course you have some faults, but I would rather find them out by myself. I could not hear anything against you now. I am satisfied to take you as you are.”

Wilford felt his heart throb wildly with the feeling that he was deceiving the young girl; but if she would not suffer him to tell her, he was not to be censured if she remained in ignorance. And so the golden moment fled, and when he spoke again he said, “If Katy will not now read the leaf I offered to show her, she must not shrink in horror, if ever it does meet her eye.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Kate answered, a vague feeling of fear creeping over her as to what the reading of that mysterious page involved. But this was soon forgotten, as Wilford, remembering his suspicions of Dr. Grant, thought to probe her a little by asking if she had ever loved any one before himself.

“No, never,” she answered. “I never dreamed of such a thing until I saw you, Mr. Cameron;” and Wilford believed the trusting girl, whose loving nature shone in every lineament of her face, upturned to receive the kisses he pressed upon it, resolving within himself to be to her what he ought to be.

“By the way,” he continued, “don’t call me Mr. Cameron again, as you did just now. I would rather be your Wilford. It sounds more familiar;” and then he told her of his projected tour to Europe, and Katy felt her pulses quicken as she thought of London, Paris and Rome, as places which her plain country eyes might yet look upon. But when it came to their marriage, which Wilford said must be within a few weeks—she demurred, for this arrangement was not in accordance with her desires; and she opposed her lover with all her strength, telling him she was so young, not eighteen till July, and she knew so little of housekeeping. He must let her stay at home until she learned at least the art of making bread!

Poor, ignorant Katy! Wilford could not forbear a smile as he thought how different were her views from his, and tried to explain that the art of bread-making, though very desirable in most wives, was not an essential accomplishment for his. Servants would do that; besides he did not intend to have a house of his own at once; he should take her first to live with his mother, where she could learn what was necessary much better than in Silverton.