ields to Linwood, talking with Morris as she used
to talk in the days which seemed so long ago. Morris she feared was not
liking her as well as of old, thinking her very frivolous and silly, for
he had only written her one short note in reply to the letter she had
sent, telling him of the opera, the parties she attended, and the gay,
happy life she led, for to him she would not then confess that in her
cup of joy there was a single bitter dreg. All was bright and fair, she
said, and Morris had replied that he was glad. "But do not forget that
death can find you even there amid your splendor, or that after death
the judgment comes, and then what shall it profit you if you gain the
whole world and lose your own soul."

These words had rung in Katy's ears for many a day, following her to
the dance and to the opera, where even the music was drowned by the
echo of the words, "lose your own soul." But the sting grew less and
less, till Katy no longer felt it, and now was only anxious to talk with
Morris and convince him that she was not as thoughtless as he might
suppose, that she still remembered his teachings, remembered the Sunday
school and the little church in the valley, preferring it to the
handsome, aristocratic house where she went with the Camerons once on
every Sunday, and would willingly go twice if Wilford would go with her.
But the Camerons were merely fashionable churchgoers, and so their
afternoons were spent at home, Katy enjoying them vastly because she
usually had Wilford all to herself in her own room, a thing which did
not often occur during the weekdays.

There was a kind of peace to be made with Helen, too, Katy feared; for
Helen had sent back the diamond ring, saying it was not suitable for
her, but never hinting that she had drawn from Morris the inference that
Wilford was not well pleased at having his wife thus dispose of his
costly presents. Katy had cried when she received the ring, feeling that
something was wrong and longing so much for the time when she could make
it right.

"One more week and then it is April," she said to Wilford one evening
after they had retired to their room, and she was talking of Silverton.
"I guess I had better go about the tenth. Shall you stay as long as I
do?"

Wilford bit his lip, and after a moment replied:

"I have been talking with mother, and we think April is not a good time
for you to be in the country; it is so wet and cold. You had better not
till summ