But Wilford was not one to retract when a decision was reached, and so he arranged his business matters as well as his limited time would allow; then, after the brief note to his father, wrote the letter to Katy, and then followed to the Jersey ferry a regiment of soldiers who were going on to Washington that night. Four days more and Lieutenant Wilford Cameron, with no regret as yet for the past, marched away to swell the ranks of men who, led by General McClellan, were pressing on, as they believed, to Richmond and victory. A week of terrible suspense went by, and then there came a letter to Mr. Cameron from his son, requesting him to care for Katy, but asking no forgiveness for himself. There were no apologies, no explanations, no kind words for Katy, whose eyes moved slowly over the short letter, and then were lifted sadly to her father’s face as she said, “I will write to him myself, and on his answer will depend my future course.” This she said referring to the question she had raised as to whether she should remain in New York or go to Silverton, where the family as yet knew nothing except that Wilford had joined the army. And so the days went by, while Katy’s letter was sent to Wilford, together with another from his father, who called his son a “confounded fool,” telling him to throw up his shoulder straps, which only honest men had a right to wear, and come home where he belonged. To this there came an indignant answer, bidding the father attend to his own business, and allow the son to attend to his. To Katy, however, Wilford wrote in a different strain, showing here and there marks of tenderness and relenting, but saying what he had done could not now be helped,—he was in for a soldier’s life for two years, and should abide his choice. This was the purport of Wilford’s letter, and Katy, when she finished reading it, said sorrowfully, “Wilford never loved me, and I cannot stay in _his_ home, knowing that I am not trusted and respected as a wife should be. I will go to Silverton. There is room for me there.” Meanwhile at Silverton there was much anxiety for Katy, and many doubts expressed lest something was wrong. That Wilford should go away so suddenly, when he had never been noted for any very great amount of patriotism, seemed strange, and Uncle Ephraim at last made up his mind to the herculean task of going to New York to see what was the matter. Presuming upon her experience as a traveler, Aunt Betsy had proffered sundry pieces of advice with reference to what it was best for him to do on the road, telling him which side of the car to sit, where to get out, and above all things not to shake hands with the conductor when asked for his ticket. Uncle Ephraim heard her good-humoredly, and stuffing into his pocket the paper of ginger-snaps, fried cakes and cheese, which Aunt Hannah had prepared for his lunch, he started for the cars, and was soon on his way to New York.