“I wish it were not wrong to hate him,” she exclaimed passionately; “it would be such a relief; but if he is only kind to Katy, I do not care how much he despises us,” and bathing her face, Helen sat down by her window, wondering, if Mr. Cameron took her sister, when it would probably be. “Not this year or more,” she said, “for Katy is so young;” but on this point she was soon set right by Katy herself, who, leaving her lover alone with her mother, stole up to tell her sister the good news. “Yes, I know; I guessed as much when you came back from the meadows,” and Helen’s voice was very unsteady in its tone as she smoothed the soft rings clustering around her sister’s brow. “Crying, Helen! oh, don’t. I shall love you just the same, and you are coming to live with us,” Katy said, forgetting Wilford’s instructions in her desire to comfort Helen, who broke down again, while Katy’s tears were mingled with her own. It was the first time Katy had thought what it would be to leave forever the good, patient sister, who had been so kind, treating her like a petted kitten and standing between her and every hardship. “Don’t cry, Nellie,” she said, “New York is not far away, and I shall come so often, that is, after we return from Europe. Did I tell you we are going there first, and Wilford will not wait, but says we must be married the 10th of June?—that’s his birthday—thirty—and he is telling mother now.” “So soon—oh Katy! and you so young!” was all Helen could say, as with quivering lip she kissed her sister’s hand raised to wipe her tears away. “Yes, it is soon, and I am young: but Wilford is in such a hurry; he don’t care,” Katy replied, trying to comfort Helen, and begging of her not to cry so hard.