and out there,-old and young, bridal parties and funeral cortéges; but it would hold one picture forever in her mind: the stillness of a summer night, the lowering clouds shutting out the stars, a handsome face bent close to hers, a dusky figure moving slowly over the way. Ah! she thought she had forgotten. She rose up quickly from sitting listlessly in her own. room at Josie's, and began hurriedly to dress. They were going to visit a collection of pictures, and even now Josie ran up the stairs and tapped at her door. "What! not dressed! and I am late, too. O Katey, you are an idle girl," she added playfully, "you have done nothing all the morning, while I-do you know Jack thinks I am a wonderful housekeeper?" "I don't doubt it." Katey was tying her bonnet-strings under her chin, and searching for her gloves. "I agree with him heartily." How sweet you are in all that pink," said Josie, when they were entering the picture-gallery. "But you are so tall and "But you are so tall and grand that I am quite insignificant beside. you." And she made an abortive attempt to draw her diminutive figure to a fuller height. "You always will look like a princess in disguise. I believe if you were to walk down the street in a print gown, and with a handkerchief tied over your head, half the town would turn and stare after you." "It would be strange if they did not," laughed Katey. "Do laugh;" and Josie turned her eyes upon her with the wistful gaze Katey had marked many times before, but would not appear to notice; "you are so very quiet and grave of late." "Am I? I have been ill, you know, and that can never be amusing; and I have had many things to think of, some of which have troubled me not a little." She said it quietly, moved to no purpose when she began. Dacre's name had never been mentioned between them in all these months which they had spent together. But now she would speak. They were almost alone. An old man with a mottled beard and a hooked nose,—a dealer, perhaps, was moving from one picture to another, eying them with a cold, critical air. A younger man, shabbily dressed,-possibly an artist, stood near by, sighting a landscape through his half-closed hand. They were early; there were no others in the room. 323 Josie caught her sleeve. Do you really mean it? Oh, I am so glad! You cannot think how anxious I have been, and yet, I would not try to force your confidence. And you are convinced at last, that he is utterly worthless?" "No;" Katey said stoutly. "There is much that is good in him.' "O Katey! How can you think so? I dare not trust you then. I am afraid you will go back to him." "Because I will not turn against him? You need not be afraid," she added, "I can never go back to him." "But you are not going to pine away?" One never knew what Katey might take upon herself to do. "Do I look like it?" and she turned upon Josie the face that had lost something of its bloom and freshness, but was still round in its outline, and sweeter than ever in its grave, thoughtful expression.. "No," responded Josie, doubtfully. "And you are sure you are not making yourself unhappy over it?" "Quite sure," Katey replied. Then the room began to fill rapidly, an acquaintance accosted them, and they said no more. CHAPTER XXII. THE PICNIC. THE changes to which Professor Dyce referred in his note to Katey were greater than she imagined. President Humphrey had been called to an institution in the far West, leaving Professor Dyce in charge at La Fayette until the trustees should decide upon some one to take his place. Miss Severance had been summoned to her home, and finally resigned her position in the school on account of domestic troubles; and at least half of the pupils had left, many from the South, with the forethought -or foreknowledge-of prophecy, having never returned after the Christmas holidays. Others failed to appear at the beginning of the spring term, when the fall of Sumter warned the nation of the dreadful future. A summer of excitement and confusion, never to be forgotten, followed, There was less of discipline now in the school than there had been once. With the exception of Professor Dyce, who held them all with a strong, firm hand, the teachers relaxed something of their former vigilance. The recitations were naturally shortened since the classes were so small, and the hours of recreation were increased. In place of the processional walk about town, which had once comprised the daily exercise, Professor Dyce led the girls often in these pleasant September days quite be For the evening study-hour the girls gathered now in the music-room. It was less dreary than the great, half-empty schoolhall. Many and bitter were the discussions waged here in the half hour of twilight recreation after tea. Be-jewelled, befurbelowed though the girls were, they had found a depth at last beneath these things. The whole air of the house was changed; it had no longer the appearance of a quiet, well-regulated school; but of some chance abiding-place, where people, jealous, distrustful of each other, waited during a little time with feverish impatience for what, no one knew. Among these warring elements Professor Dyce moved silently, outwardly calm, self-possessed, and assured. It was a relief to Katey to feel that his eyes were no longer upon her; that the foolish suspicions which she had awakened at first had died out, or been forgotten in other and more important affairs. She took up her diminished classes with fresh zeal. The stirring events of each day in the outside world, with the duties close by her hands, banished all morbid regrets, and brought her mind to a healthier tone. She wondered still about Dacre, but without pain. The little formula of prayer to which her lips had become accustomed so long ago, she still kept up. It could do her no harm, nor him. And something like faith enlarged her vision at times, and made her to feel that it would not be in vain. Still she heard nothing of him. Even Minna Hauser, for some reason, had ceased to write. One day, a month perhaps after the beginning of the term, he announced at morning prayers that the school would spend the afternoon in the country. He would leave Miss Wormley, through whose knowledge of the suburbs he had perfected the plan, to give its details; and with this he left the desk and the school-room, followed by some such daring expressions of delight as a soft clapping of hands from the younger girls. Miss Wormley explained that immediately after dinner omnibuses would be in attendance at the door, to convey the young ladies to a point some four or five miles from town, within easy walking distance of a grove, where they would take an early tea, and return to the city before dark. Professor Paine excused himself from the party, and Miss Hersey decided that it would be necessary for her also to remain at home. Miss Wormley, busily collecting the lunch-baskets which the housekeeper had prepared, smiled a peculiar and not altogether pleasant smile when this announcement was made to her. "The care of the young ladies will devolve upon you and me, then," she said to Katey, in an unusually gracious tone. "Yes; and upon Professor Dyce. is going, of course?" He Professor Dyce? O, of course." And again the watery blue eyes half closed in an odd smile. They set off at last, a gay party, filling a couple of omnibuses, merry, happy, and forgetful for the time of their differences. The road was smooth and hard, and they bowled along at a fine pace when the paved streets of the town were once left behind. The country was fresh and greener than in midsummer; the air mild, yet not too warm; the day perfect. What more could they desire ? Upon the outskirts of a suburban village they descended from the omnibuses, and went on, a straggling company, led by Miss Wormley, up the pleasant country road to the picnic ground, a half mile away. "Is it much farther?" Katey ventured to ask at last. The afternoon sun was fiercely hot; no shadow from welcome wayside trees fell upon the dusty road. The shawl and basket upon her arm were growing heavier each moment. "No; we turn in at that gate. There is the grove," Miss Wormley replied. A bend in the road had long since hidden their starting-point. They had left every trace of human habitation behind. Rough, hillocky fields, broken into knolls, and even mountains in the distance, met their eyes on every hand. Across these, in irregular, devious wanderings, straggled a narrow belt of woods, disappearing only where the horizon shut down upon it at last. The Professor stepped forward and opened the gate as Miss Wormley paused before it. He waited until the last had passed through. Katey had lagged behind. He took the basket from her hand and walked on beside her without speaking. The grass was cool and soft to the feet; a faint breeze rose and came to meet them as they reached the edge of the woods, stirring the branches of the trees; a startled bird fluttered away, uttering a shrill, piping call to its mate. It was a pleasant summer scene, suggestive of peace. 66 One might almost forget the war," Katey said, letting her eyes wander after her thoughts to the distant hazy hills. "Is it then so easily forgotten? Oh, not for me," the Professor replied, in a deep, suppressed voice, a fire burning in his eyes. "The drum, the drum, it calls so loud,' he said, half to himself. And would he go? Jack had written the week before that he expected his commission daily. Oh, how near this was coming to each one! How real this terrible dream might yet be! She, too, had enlisted heart and soul. That was all a woman could do. Her busy hands, to do their possible, meek office, followed, as a matter of course, needing no fresh consecration. But often her desires soared beyond this. "Dear Jack," she had written, feeling only this uplifting of the soul beyond all dreadful forebodings. Then she laid her face upon the paper, no other words came with the rush of strong emotion. When she was calmer, she took up the pen again. "It must be sweet to die for one's country," she added, with that holy enthusiasm which only women and martyrs know. They walked on silently for a moment; then Katey spoke again softly. "But the school! How could you leave the school?" "It has never been any but a temporary affair with me," he replied. "I should give it up at once if there was only some one to take my place. I have to wait a little longer for my degree, that is all. Nothing else need keep me here. But, indeed, six months hence there will be no school. You think me a prophet of evil ?" For Katey turned her face upon him full of surprise and doubt. "The result is inevitable, and not far in the future either. Ah! carefully;" as one of the little girls, running back to meet them, stumbled and would have fallen had he not caught her. 66 Please, Miss Wormley wants to know if we are to make a fire?" "To be sure;" and he hastened on with the child to where the others had gathered under the trees, close to a noisy little brook clattering down over the stones. The girls were tired and heated, and somewhat inclined to be cross after the dusty walk upon which they had not calculated; but his presence soon put them in good humor. Notwithstanding the grave air he always wore, and the authority which he could exercise upon occasions, a certain gentle deference, a courtly manner, which years of society, perhaps, had imparted to him, and which was never forgotten in his intercourse with the smallest and most insignificant of the sex, flattered and won upon the girls imperceptibly. They might rail at him in secret for his political principles; but each one was ready to do his bidding, and proud if a word of commendation fell to her from his lips. There was a flutter of ribbons about him now when Miss Wormley announced that it was time to think about tea, each one hoping to be drawn into his service. The younger children ran to gather wood to feed the fire he had lit in a dry hollow, the older ones prepared to spread the cloth, and set out the contents of the baskets, while Katey and Clary Luckiwinner set about making the coffee under his direction. They chattered and laughed over their rural repast as only school-girls can and will. They told stories, and even sang songs at its conclusion, grouped about in picturesque attitudes upon the moss-grown แ ingly. Then, rocks and stumps of fallen trees. Then, when the cloth had been cleared, and while the baskets were repacked and gathered together again, they wandered away as they chose. Not too far," cautioned the Professor, we must be moving towards town in an hour; it would not be wise to let the twilight catch us scattered among these woods and hills." 66 Miss Wormley and Katey had been collecting the baskets; even Clary had been tempted away by the others. Closing the last one with an exclamation of satisfaction, Miss Wormley strolled off after the girls. Katey was tired; she had served them all without sparing her strength. She had dismissed the last who volunteered to assist in clearing away the remains of the tea, sent them off towards the fields where their eyes had followed the others wistfully, and assumed the task herself. She sat down now to rest. The Professor, at a little distance, had thrown himself upon the ground, his back against the trunk of a tree, and had lit a cigar, too busy with the reverie called up by the silence, or the smoke slowly curling about his head, to notice her. She rested comfortably, having no fear now of what he might say, though his glance should discover her. In what a childish fear and dread she had avoided him all the past year! And how all these imaginary terrors had fled in the presence of the real. Then her thoughts flew, as they did so often now, to Jack. Ah! what should we do but for the blessed care for others which takes us out of our own narrow selves? Dear old Jack! He was, perhaps, already on his way to Washington, where Josie would follow him. Jack in the blue, with a sword at his side! Jack's handsome eyes looking out from under a visor! But Jack was always a hero to her, and he would live to come home again. There is a conviction stronger than hope, different even from faith, a kind of foreknowledge, and this Katey possessed now. She might have her terrors when others quaked. She might see her dark days when the clouds hung low, but he would come home. She said it to herself with a smile on her lips, though something wet fell upon the hands lying in her lap. Then she looked up hastily, and met Prof. Dyce's eyes. He must have been regarding her for a long time, certainly there was no surprise in his face at seeing here there. "You are quite well?" he said inquir ingly. There was something like anxiety in his tone. "Oh, yes." "And happy?" It was an odd question, uttered so quietly, without the suggestion of a smile. "Oh, yes," Katey said again. That was all. He rose, throwing away his cigar. Did he take care of her? Did he watch over her? A little quick throb stirred her heart. There had been a moment of desolation thinking of Jack, and of Delphine so far away. What if anything should happen here at the school? There was no one to whom she could turn. She had not thought of Professor Dyce. The faintest shadow of approaching night had already fallen. Miss Wormley approached now in evident haste. Prof. Dyce watched her drawing near. "We rest upon a volcano in La Fayette," he went on to Katey. "It is only a question of time. The end must come. For myself, I have succeeded in the undertaking which brought me here. I have transferred my interests elsewhere. Six weeks -a month-I could leave to-day without loss, though I should like my degree; but you-it is different with a woman. your position becomes dangerous-if I, who can see so much better than you to what all this may lead, having means of knowing what you can but be ignorant of, -if I tell you some day that the time has come for you to leave, will you trust me, and go?" Katey gave one look into his eyes. If "Yes," she said, unhesitatingly, "I will." Then, even as she uttered the last words, Miss Wormley joined them. "It is time we started for home;" and the Professor consulted his watch. "There is no haste, it is early yet," said Miss Wormley. It struck Katey as odd. The night was close at hand. Or was it her manner which was strange? There was a kind of suppressed excitement about the woman. She panted as though she had been running. The Professor, standing upon a rock above them, searched the woods on either side. The girls were nowhere in sight. "I have called them," Miss Wormley said quickly. "They will be here directly. Of course you have seen the view from the knoll?" she added to Katey, motioning with her head in the opposite direction from that by which they had entered the woods. ་ "No," Katey replied. "I was tired, and have been resting; and, indeed, I knew nothing about it." way lengthened before them; the deceitful knoll,-if this were really the one they sought, seemed to move back coquettish"Is it possible? Why, that is the aimly at their approach. Already the horizon and object of every picnic party here. It had disappeared, and heavy shadows were would be a shame not to see it. Professor creeping towards them. Dyce!" He turned at her voice. "I will wait here for the girls, who are on their way back now from the knoll, if you will take Miss Earle there for a moment. It is a pity that she should miss the view, which she says she has not seen." "Nor have I," replied the Professor. "I must confess my ignorance as to the situation of this knoll even. I trust it is not far," he added, with unconscious ungallantry. "It is later than I thought." "O no; but a short distance. I can easily direct you there, and she proceeded to point out the way, which seemed to Katey both complicated and long in its various turnings. "It must be too far for us to think of going now," she said. "Not at all. You will soon see," Miss Wormley replied. "And you will be well paid for the slight exertion. But don't linger there," she called after them, shall have to go home without you." CHAPTER XXIII. KATEY'S CONFESSION. 66 or we KATEY followed the Professor, who led the way with some haste and without replying to this playful remark. As they came out into the open fields the daylight seemed to flare into unexpected brightness. It was the shadows among the trees, perhaps, which had brought the twilight so soon. "Where are the girls?" and Katey looked about her in surprise, for no one was in sight. "They have probably crossed to the other side," the Professor replied. "Miss Wormley has called them together. If you are anxious, we will turn back. Still, I think this must be the knoll. Are you equal to a run to the top of it? Give me your hand. This cannot be the spot," he said, when they had gained the summit only to find another hill rising at a little distance to a greater height, shutting out the view from before them. Katey was already half-way down upon the other side. She was filled with misgivings. "Let us go as fast as we can," she said. But the How foolish!" exclaimed Katey, at last Professor Dyce, where are we going, and for what?" "I don't know." 66 Nor I." They stared at each other. Then they laughed. "We must return as quickly as possible," said the Professor, beginning to retrace his steps "It will be dark before we reach La Fayette. I am sorry to disappoint you "It is no disappointment," Katey hastened to say. "I did not care to come, but Miss Wormley insisted upon it." The way seemed much longer than when they first passed over it, and the shadows gained upon them with alarming speed. "Are you quite sure?" Katey ventured presently. "I think we should bend more to the left. I don't remember this clump of firs; do you?" "We might not have noticed it. But I believe we should enter the woods at that turn." Katey's heart fell in sudden fright. But she followed, without speaking. She was by no means sure; perhaps he was right. They gained the woods. The day bade them adieu as they plunged into the shadows and pushed on in silence. They reached the brook, which sang noisily on its way. The surroundings were strange. Their companions were nowhere in sight. "Hark!" But it was only the cry of a distant hawk. "We are too far down," said the Professor, in the kind, hopeful tone people use with children to allay their fears. It alarmed Katey. "If we follow the brook we shall soon reach them." And again he led the way. It was an ill-trained, willful little stream, that had heeded the beckoning of its own fancy; it led them a devious way. Often they jumped its narrow width, when their progress was stopped by a fallen tree or a great boulder which the spring freshets had brought down. The darkness was falling fast now. At a little distance it was difficult to distinguish the trees, or guard against the snares and pitfalls in which Katey's tired feet were con |