of the whole letter:

"I think your wife misses you very much, Davie, she looks sort of peeked
and sad. It is hard on her being separated from you so long this first
year. Men don't think of those things, but it is lonely for a young thing
like her here with three old women, and you know Hortense and Amelia never
try to make it lively for anybody. I have been watching her, and I think
if I were you I would let the business finish itself up as soon as
possible and hurry back to put a bit of cheer into that child. She's
whiter than she ought to be."

David read it over three times in astonishment with growing, mingled
feelings which he could not quite analyze.

Poor Aunt Clarinda! Of course she did not understand the situation, and
equally of course she was mistaken. Marcia was not sighing for him, though
it might be dull for her at the old house. He ought to have thought of
that; and a great burden suddenly settled down upon him. He was not doing
right by Marcia. It could not be himself of course that Marcia was
missing, if indeed Aunt Clarinda was right and she was worried about
anything. Perhaps something had occurred to trouble her. Could that snake
of a Temple have turned up again? No, he felt reasonably sure he would
have heard of that, besides he saw him not long ago on the street at a
distance. Could it be some boy-lover at home whose memory came to trouble
her? Or had she discovered what a sacrifice she had made of her young
life? Whatever it was, it was careless and cruel in him to have left her
alone with his aunts all this time. He was a selfish man, he told himself,
to have accepted her quiet little sacrifice of all for him. He read the
letter over again, and suddenly there came to him a wish that Marcia _was_
missing him. It seemed a pleasant thought to have her care. He had been
trying to train himself to the fact that no one would ever care for him
again, but now it seemed dear and desirable that his sweet young companion
should like to have him back. He had a vision of home as it had been, so
pleasant and restful, always the food that he liked, always the thought
for his wishes, and he felt condemned. He had not noticed or cared. Had
she thought him ungrateful?

He read the letter over again, noting every mention of his wife in the
account of the daily living at home. He was searching for some clue that
would give him more information about her. And when he reached the last
paragraph about missing him,