"Miss Lennox is not much like her sister."
"Not much, no; but Helen is a splendid girl--more strength of character, perhaps, than Katy, who is younger than her years even. She has always been petted from babyhood; it will take time or some great sorrow to show what she really is."
This was Morris' reply, and the two then proceeded on in silence until they reached the boundary line between Morris' farm and Uncle Ephraim's, where they found the deacon mending a bit of broken fence, his coat lying on a pile of stones, and his wide, blue cotton trousers hanging loosely around him. When told who Mark was and that he brought news of Katy, he greeted him cordially, and sitting down upon his fence listened to all Mark had to say. Between the old and young man there seemed at once a mutual liking, the former saying to himself as Mark went on, and he resumed his work:
"I most wish it was this chap with Katy on the sea. I like his looks the best," while Mark's thoughts were:
"Will need not be ashamed of that man, though I don't suppose I should really want him coming suddenly in among a drawing-room full of guests."
Morris did not feel much like entertaining Mark, but Mark was fully competent to entertain himself, and thought the hour spent at Linwood a very pleasant one, half wishing for some excuse to tarry longer; but there was none, and so at the appointed time he bade Morris good-by and went on his way to New York.
If Katy's letters, written, one on board the steamer and another from London, were to be trusted, she was as nearly perfectly happy as a young bride well can be, and the people at the farmhouse felt themselves more and more kindly disposed toward Wilford Cameron with each letter received. They were going soon into the northern part of England, and from thence into Scotland, Katy wrote from London, and two weeks after found them comfortably settled at the inn at Alnwick, near to Alnwick Castle. Wilford had seemed very anxious to get there, leaving London before Katy was quite ready to leave, and hurrying across the country until Alnwick was reached. He had been there before, years ago, he said, but no one seemed to recognize him, though all paid due respect to the distinguished-looking American and his beautiful young wife. An entrance into Alnwick Castle was easily obtained, and Katy felt that all her girlish dreams of grandeur and magnificence were more than realized here in this home of the Percys, where ancient and modern styles of architecture and furnishing were so blended together. She would never tire of that place, she thought, but Wilford's taste led him elsewhere, and he took more delight, it would appear, in wandering around St. Mary's Church, which stood upon a hill commanding a view of the castle and of the surrounding country for miles away. Here Katy also came, rambling with him through the village graveyard where slept the dust of centuries, the gray, mossy tombstones bearing date backward for more than a hundred years, their quaint inscriptions both puzzling and amusing Katy, who studied them by the hour.