"Katy," and Wilford grew very earnest in his attempts to defend himself, "do you remember that day we sat under the buttonwood tree and you promised to be mine? Try and recall the incidents of that hour and see if I did not hint at some things past which I wished had been otherwise--did not offer to show you the blackest page of my whole life and you would not see it. Was that so, Katy?"

"Yes," she answered, and he continued: "You said you were satisfied to take me as I was. You would not hear evil against me and so I acquiesced, bidding you not shrink back if ever the time should come when you must read that page. I was to blame, I know, but there were many extenuating circumstances, much to excuse me for withholding what you would not hear."

Wilford did not like to be censured, neither did he like to censure himself, and now that Katy was out of danger and comparatively calm, he began to build about himself a fortress of excuses for having kept from her the secret of his life.

"Would not most any man have done just as I did?" he continued. "Can you mention one who would not?"

"Yes, Cousin Morris," Katy answered; "he would never have deceived me thus."

A little vexed at the mention of Dr. Grant, Wilford replied: "I do not pretend to be a saint, and I believe your cousin does; but I doubt whether even he, with all his goodness, would do very differently from what I have done; but tell me how, where did you hear of Genevra?"

Amid sobs and tears Katy told him how she had repented of her decision not to join him at his mother's, coming to the conclusion that she was doing wrong to seclude herself so much and trying her best to look well again in his eyes.

"I meant to surprise you," she said, "and when I heard your mother was out I went into the library to wait, thinking you would come there, but you did not, and I started to go to you when my feet were stopped, for you were talking of me, Wilford, not bad, perhaps, but as you would not have talked had you known that I was there where I heard the words which burned like coals of fire, so that I could have screamed in my distress."

Katy was not weeping now and her face was like that of some accusing angel as she continued: "I thought my heart was broken when I heard you talk so of me and Silverton, but that was nothing compared with what came next, when your mother spoke of Genevra. I thought it was my baby she meant at first, and the tightness around my heart was giving way, for if you did complain of me to your mother, I could forgive that because you were baby's father; but Genevra Lambert! oh, Wilford, I died a thousand deaths in one when I first heard of her and understood why you objected to the name our baby finally bore. You did not wish to be so constantly reminded of the other wife. I could not sit there longer, the room around me grew so black, so I struggled to my feet and reached the door, going into the street and thinking once I would end my wretched life in the distant river; but something turned my steps toward home and I came, thinking it all over and suffering such agony. Oh, Wilford, why did you keep it from me? What was there about it wrong and where is she buried?"




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