Family Pride

Carefully Katy repeated every word Wilford had said, and with a gasping cry Marian wound her arms around her neck, exclaiming: "And you will love me, not because he did once, but because I have suffered so much? You will let me call you Katy when we are alone? It brings you nearer to me."

Marian was now the weaker of the two, and it was Katy's task to comfort her, as, sinking back in her chair, she sobbed: "He did love me once. He acknowledged it at the last, before them all, his wife, his father and his sister. Do they know?" she suddenly asked, and when assured that they did, she relapsed into a silent mood, while Katy stole quietly out and left her there alone.

Half an hour later a female form passed hurriedly through the hall and across the threshold into the chamber where the dead man lay. There was no one with him now, and Marian was free to weep out the pent-up sorrow of her life, which she did with choking sobs and passionate words poured into the ear deaf now to every human sound. A step upon the floor startled her, and turning around she stood face to face with Wilford's father, who was regarding her with a look which she mistook for one of reproof and displeasure that she should be there thus.

"Forgive me," she said, wringing her hands together. "I know how you despise me, but he was my husband once, and surely now that he is dead you will not begrudge me a few last moments with him for the sake of the days when he loved me."

There were many tender chords in the heart of Father Cameron, and offering Marian his hand, he said: "Far be it from me to refuse you this privilege. I pity you, Genevra, for I believe he dealt unjustly by you--but I will not censure him now that he is gone. He was my only boy. Oh, Wilford, Wilford. You have left me very lonely."

He released her hand, and Marian fled away, meeting next with Bell, who felt that she must speak to her, but was puzzled what to say. Bell could not define her feelings toward Marian, or why she shrank from approaching her. It was not pride, but rather a feeling of prejudice, as if Marian were in some way to blame for all the trouble which had come to them, while her peculiar position as the divorced wife of her brother made it the more embarrassing. But she could not resist the mute pleading of the eyes lifted so tearfully to her, as if asking for a nod of recognition, and stopping before her she said, softly: "Genevra."