But to whom should she go? To Father Cameron? No, nor to his mother. They might counsel wrong for the sake of secrecy. Would Mark Ray or Mrs. Banker know? Perhaps; but they were strangers;—her trouble must not be told to them, and then with a great bound her heart turned at last to _Morris_. He knew everything. He would not sanction a wrong. He would tell her just what was right, and she could trust him fully in everything. There was no other person whom she could believe just as she could him. Uncle Ephraim was equally as good and conscientious, but he did not know as much as Morris—he did not understand everything. Morris was her refuge, and to him she would go that very day, leaving a note for Wilford in case she never came back, as possibly she might not. Had Marian been in the city she would have gone to her at once, but Marian was where long rows of cots were ranged against the hospital walls, each holding a maimed and suffering soldier, to whom she ministered so tenderly, the brightness of her smile and the beauty of her face deluding the delirious ones into the belief that the journey of life for them was ended and heaven reached at last, where an angel in woman’s garb attended upon them. Marian was impossible, and Dr. Grant was the only alternative left. But when she attempted to prepare for the journey to Silverton, she found herself wholly inadequate to the exertion. The terrible excitement through which she had passed had exhausted her strength, and every nerve was quivering, while spasms of pain darted through her head, warning her that Silverton was impossible. “I can telegraph and Morris will come,” she whispered, and without pausing to think what the act might involve, she wrote upon a slip of paper, “Cousin Morris, come to me in the next train. I am in great trouble, Katy.” She would not add the Cameron. She had no right to that name, she feared, and folding the paper, she rang for Esther, bidding her give the telegram to the boy Phil, with instructions to take it at once to the office and see that it went immediately. CHAPTER XXXV. THE INTERVIEW.