Perhaps he did not mean it, but he seemed to take delight in teasing her, and Katy sometimes felt she should be happier without his letters than with them. He never said he was sorry he had left her so suddenly—indeed he seldom referred to the past in any way; or if he did, it was in a manner which showed that he thought himself the injured party, if either. Katy did not often go to Linwood, and seldom saw Morris alone. After what had passed she thought it better to avoid him as much as possible, and was glad when early in June he accepted a situation offered him as surgeon in a Georgetown hospital, and left Silverton for his new field of labor. True to her promise, Bell came the last of July to Silverton, proving herself a dreadful romp, as she climbed over the rocks in Aunt Betsy’s famous sheep-pasture, or raked the hay in the meadow, and proving herself, too, a genuine woman, as with blanched cheek and anxious heart she waited for tidings from the battles before Richmond, where the tide of success seemed to turn, and the North, hitherto so jubilant and hopeful, wore weeds of mourning from Maine to Oregon. Lieut. Bob was there, and Wilford, too; and so was Captain Ray, digging in the marshy swamps, where death floated up in poisonous exhalations—plodding on the weary march, and fighting all through the seven days, where the sun poured down its burning heat and the night brought little rest. No wonder, then, that three faces at the farm-house grew white with anxiety, or that three pairs of eyes grew dim with watching the daily papers. But the names of neither Wilford, Mark, nor Bob were ever found among the wounded, dead, or missing, and with the fall of the first autumn leaf Bell returned to the city more puzzled, more perplexed than ever with regard to Helen Lennox’s real feelings toward Captain Ray. The week before Christmas, Mark came home for a few days, looking ruddy and bronzed from exposure and hardship, but wearing a disappointed, listless look which Bell was quick to detect, connecting it in some way with Helen Lennox. Only once did he call at Mr. Cameron’s and then as Juno was out Bell had him to herself, talking of Silverton, of Helen and Katy, in the latter of whom he seemed far more interested than her sister. Many questions he asked concerning Katy, expressing his regret that Wilford had left her, and saying he believed Wilford was sorry, too. He was in the hospital now, with a severe cold and a touch of the rheumatism, he said; but as Bell knew this already she did not dwell long upon that subject, choosing rather to talk of Helen, who, she said, was “as much interested in the soldiers, as if she had a brother or a lover in the army,” and her bright eyes glanced meaningly at Mark, who answered carelessly, “_Dr. Grant_ is there, and that may account for her interest.”