“I am sorry, and so I am sure is Mr. Ray,” Sybil said, turning lightly to Mark, whose white face froze the gay laugh on her lips and made her try to shield him from observation until he had time to recover himself and appear as usual. How Mark blessed Sybil Grandon for that thoughtful kindness, and how wildly the blood throbbed through his veins as he thought “She would not come. She does not care. I have deceived myself in hoping that she did, and now welcome _war_, welcome anything which shall help me to forget.” Mark was very wretched, and his wretchedness showed itself upon his face, making more than one rally him for what they termed _fear_, while they tried to reassure him by saying that to the Seventh there could be no danger after Baltimore was safely passed. This was more than Mark could bear, and at an early hour he left the house, bidding Katy good-bye in the hall, and telling her he probably should not see her again, as he would not have time to call. “Not call to say good-bye to Helen,” Katy exclaimed. “Helen will not care,” was Mark’s reply, as he hurried away into the darkness of the night, more welcome in his present state of mind than the gay scene he had left. And this was _all_ Katy had to carry Helen, who had expected to see Mark once more, to bless him as a sister might bless a brother, speaking to him words of cheer and bidding him go on to where duty led. But he was not coming, and she only saw him from the carriage window, as with proud step and head erect, he passed with his regiment through the densely crowded streets, where the loud hurrahs of the multitude, which no man could number, told how terribly in earnest the great city was, and how its heart was with that gallant band, their pet, and pride, sent forth on a mission such as it had never had before. But Mark did not see Helen, and only his mother’s face as it looked when it said, “God bless my boy,” was clear before his eyes as he moved on through Broadway, and down Cortlandt street, until the ferry-boat received him, and the crowd began to disperse. Now that Mark was gone, Mrs. Banker turned intuitively to Helen, finding greater comfort in her quiet sympathy than in the more wordy condolence offered her by Juno, who, as she heard nothing from _the letter_, began to lose her fears of detection, and even suffer her friends to rally her upon the absence of Mark Ray, and the anxiety she must feel on his account. Moments there were, however, when thoughts of the stolen letter brought a pang, while Helen’s face was a continual reproach, and she was glad when, towards the first of May, her rival left New York for Silverton, where, as the spring and summer work came on, her services were needed. CHAPTER XXIX. KATY GOES TO SILVERTON.