"
And then Katy came, the same Katy, only, as Clover thought, nicer,
brighter, dearer, and certainly better-looking than ever. Sea air had
tanned her a little, but the brown was becoming; and she had gained an
ease and polish of manner which her sisters admired very much. And after
all, it seemed to make little difference at which house they stayed, for
they were in and out of both all day long; and Mrs. Ashe threw her doors
open to the Carrs and wanted some or all of them for every meal, so that
except for the name of the thing, it was almost as satisfactory to have
Katy over the way as occupying her old quarters.
The fortnight sped only too rapidly. Ned departed, and Katy settled
herself in the familiar corner to wait till he should come back again.
Navy wives have to learn the hard lesson of patience in the long
separations entailed by their husbands' profession. Katy missed Ned
sorely, but she was too unselfish to mope, or to let the others know how
hard to bear his loss seemed to her. She never told any one how she lay
awake in stormy nights, or when the wind blew,--and it seemed to blow
oftener than usual that winter,--imagining the frigate in a gale, and
whispering little prayers for Ned's safety. Then her good sense would come
back, and remind her that wind in Burnet did not necessarily mean wind in
Shanghai or Yokohama or wherever the "Natchitoches" might be; and she
would put herself to sleep with the repetition of that lovely verse of
Keble's "Evening Hymn," left out in most of the collections, but which was
particularly dear to her:--
"Thou Ruler of the light and dark,
Guide through the tempest Thine own Ark;
Amid the howling, wintry sea,
We are in port if we have Thee.
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