He had tried its pleasures, drinking the cup of freedom and happiness to its very dregs, and though he thought he liked it, he often found himself dissatisfied and reaching after something which should make life more real, more worth the living for. He had traveled all over Europe twice, had visited every spot worth visiting in his own country, had been a frequenter of every fashionable resort in New York, from the skating-pond to the theatres, had been admitted as a lawyer, had opened an office on Broadway, acquiring some reputation in his profession, had looked at more than twenty girls with the view of making them his wife, and found them, as he believed, alike fickle, selfish, artificial and hollow-hearted. In short, while thinking far more of family, and accomplishments, and style, than he ought, he was yet heartily tired of the butterflies who flitted so constantly around him, offering to be caught if he would but stretch out his hand to catch them. This he would not do, and disgusted with the world as he saw it in New York, he had gone to the Far West, roaming awhile amid the solitude of the broad prairies, and finding there much that was soothing to him, but not discovering the fulfillment of the great want he was craving until coming back to Canandaigua, he met with Katy Lennox. He had smiled wearily when asked by Mrs. Woodhull to go with her to the examination then in progress at the Seminary. There was nothing there to interest him, he thought, as Euclid and Algebra, French and Rhetoric were bygone things, while young school-misses, in braided hair and pantalettes, were shockingly insipid. Still, to be polite to Mrs. Woodhull, a childless, fashionable woman, who patronized Canandaigua generally and Katy Lennox in particular, he consented, and soon found himself in the crowded room, the cynosure of many eyes as the whisper ran round that the fine-looking man with Mrs. Woodhull was Wilford Cameron, from New York, brother to the proud, dashing Juno Cameron, who once spent a few weeks in town. Wilford knew they were talking about him, but he did not care, and assuming as easy an attitude as possible, he leaned back in his chair, yawning indolently until the class in Algebra was called, and Katy Lennox came tripping on the stage, a pale blue ribbon in her golden hair, and her simple dress of white relieved by no ornament except the cluster of wild flowers fastened in her belt and at her throat. But Katy needed no ornaments to make her more beautiful than she was at the moment when, with glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes, she first burst upon Wilford’s vision, a creature of rare, bewitching beauty, such as he had never dreamed about. Wilford had met his destiny, and he felt it in every throb of blood which went rushing through his veins. “Who is she?” he asked of Mrs. Woodhull, and that lady knew at once whom he meant, even though he had not designated her.