He did not often address Katy directly, but he knew each time she moved, and watched every varying expression of her face, feeling a kind of pity for her, when without appearing to do so intentionally, the family, one by one, stole from the room--Uncle Ephraim and Aunt Hannah without any excuse; Aunt Betsy to raise the cakes for breakfast; Mrs. Lennox to wind the clock, and Helen to find a book for which Morris had asked.
Katy might not have thought strange of their departure were it not that neither one came back again, and after the lapse of ten minutes or more she felt convinced that she had purposely been left alone with Morris.
The weather and the family had conspired against her, but after one throb of fear she resolved to brave the difficulty and meet whatever might happen as became a woman of twenty-three, and a widow, too. She knew Morris was regarding her intently as she fashioned into shape the coarse wool sock, intended for some soldier, and she could almost hear her heart beat in the silence which fell between them ere Morris said to her, in a tone which reassured her at once: "And so you told me a falsehood the other day, and your conscience has troubled you ever since?"
"Yes, Morris," and Katy dropped her stitch as she replied. "Yes; that is, I told you I was sorry that you ever loved me, which was not exactly true, for, after I knew you did, I was happier than before."
Her words implied a knowledge of his love previous to that night at Linwood when he had himself confessed it, and he said to her, inquiringly: "You knew it then before I told you?"
"From Wilford--yes," Katy faltered, a tear dropping on her cheek as she recalled the circumstances of Wilford's telling her.
"I understand now why you have been so shy of me," Morris said. "It was only natural you should be until you knew what my intentions were; but, Katy, must this shyness continue always? Think now, and say if you did not tell more than one falsehood the other night, as you count falsehoods."
Katy looked wonderingly at him, and he continued; "You said you could not be my wife. Was that true? Can't you take it back, and give me a different answer?"
Katy's checks were scarlet, and her hands had ceased to flutter about the knitting which lay upon her lap.
"I meant what I said," she whispered; "for knowing, as I do, how Wilford felt, it would not be right for me to be so happy."