Lennox.  He had smiled wearily when asked by Mrs. Woodhull to go with her to the examination then in progress at the seminary.  There was nothing there to interest him, he thought, as Euclid and algebra, French and rhetoric were bygone things, while young school misses in braided hair and pantalets were shockingly insipid.  Still, to be polite to Mrs. Woodhull, a childless, fashionable woman, who patronized Canandaigua generally, and Katy Lennox in particular, he consented to go, and soon found himself in the crowded room, the cynosure of many eyes as the whisper ran around that the fine-looking man with Mrs. Woodhull was the Wilford Cameron from New York, and brother to the proud, dashing Juno Cameron, who once spent a few weeks in town, Wilford knew they were talking about him, but he did not care, and assuming as easy an attitude as possible, he leaned hack in his chair, yawning indolently, and wishing the time away, until the class in algebra was called and Katy Lennox came tripping on to the stage, a pale blue ribbon in her golden hair and her simple dress of white relieved by no ornament except the cluster of wild flowers fastened in her belt and at her graceful throat.  But Katy needed no ornaments to make her more beautiful than she was at the moment when, with glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes, modestly cast down for a moment as she took her place, and then as modestly uplifted to her teacher’s face, she first burst upon Wilford’s vision, a creature of rare, bewitching beauty, such as he had never dreamed about.

Wilford had met his destiny, and he felt it in every throb of blood which went rushing through his veins.

“Who is she?” he asked of Mrs. Woodhull, and that lady knew at once whom he meant, even though he had not designated her.

An old acquaintance of Mrs. Lennox when she lived in East Bloomfield, Mrs. Woodhull had petted Katy from the first day of her arrival in Canandaigua with a letter of introduction to herself from the ambitious mother, and being rather inclined to match-making, she had had Katy in her mind when she urged Wilford to accompany her to the seminary.  Accordingly, she answered him at once:  “That is Katy Lennox, daughter of Judge Lennox, who died in East Bloomfield a few years ago.”

Lennox was a good name, while the title of judge increased its value.  Wilford would not have acknowledged that, perhaps, but it was nevertheless the truth, and Mrs. Woodhull, who understood exactly the claim which Mr. Lennox had to the title, knew it was true, and that was why she spoke as she did.  It was time Wilford Cameron was settled in life, and with the exception of wealth and family position, he could not find a better wife than Katy Lennox, and she would do what she could to bring the marriage about.

“Pretty, is she not?” was her question put to Wilford after answering his inquiry, but Wilford did not hear, having neither eye nor ear for anything save Kitty, acquitting herself with a good deal of credit as she worked out a rather difficult problem, her dimpled white hand showing to good advantage against the deep black of the board; and then her voice, soft-toned and silvery as a lady’s voice should be, thrilled Wilford’s ear, awaking a strange feeling of disquiet, as if the world would never again be quite the same to him that it was before he met that fair young girl now passing from the room.