* * * * * It was dark in the hospital, and from every window a light was shining, when Morris carried rather than led a quivering figure up the stairs and through the hall, where, in a corner, Marian Hazelton's white face looked out upon him, her hands clasped over her heart, and working nervously as she watched Katy going where she must not go--going to the room where the Camerons were, the father standing at the foot of Wilford's bed, and Bell bending over his pillow, administering the stimulants which kept her brother alive. When Katy came in, she moved away, as did her father, while Morris, too, stepped back into the hall, and thus the husband and wife were left alone in this their first meeting since the parting at Yonkers nearly one year ago.
"Katy, precious Katy, you have forgiven me?" he whispered, and the rain of tears and kisses on his face was Katy's answer as she hung over him.
She had forgiven him like a true, faithful wife, and she told him so, when she found voice to talk, wondering to find him so changed from the proud, exacting, self-worshiping man, to the humble, repentant and self-accusing person, who took all blame of the past to himself, and exonerated her from every fault. But when he drew her close to him, and whispered something in her ear, she knew whence came the change, and a reverent "Thank the Good Father," dropped from her lips.
"The way was dark and thorny," Wilford said, making her sit down where he could see her as he talked, "and only for God's goodness I should have lost the path. But he sent one Morris Grant to point the road, and I trust I am in it now. I wanted to see you before I died, to tell you with my own lips how sorry I am for what I have made you suffer; but sorriest of all for sending Baby away. Oh, Katy, you do not know how that rested upon my conscience, or how often in my sleep upon the tented plain or hillside I have felt again the touch of Baby's arms and Baby's cheek against my own as I felt it that day when I came home and took her from you. Forgive me, Katy, that I robbed you of your child."
He was growing very weak, and he looked so white and ghastly that Katy called for Bell, who came at once, as did her father, and the three stood together around the bedside of the dying, Katy with his cold hand in hers, and occasionally bending down to hear his whispered words of love and deep contrition.