and woven and wrought with finest
needlework in bands and bosoms, for a parting gift to him, because he
was the nearest of all her brothers, though she must not say so. "The
others have shirts enough," said she; "I have seen to that, for I
have meant to do my duty to you all, but none of the others have
bosoms and wristbands stitched like these, and the linen is extra
fine."

That night Richard would not go to his chamber, which he shared with
his brother Louis, lest he wake and spy his face flushed with tears,
but crept stealthily back down-stairs, and, all unbeknown to any one,
lay all night on the settle in the living-room. He slept little, and
often waked and wept in the darkness like a child rather than one of
the fiery Hautville brothers.

When wrath with a beloved one is stilled in the human heart and love
takes its place, it is with a threefold increase, a great rending of
spirit, and a cruel turning of weapons against one's self. Richard
was one who would always deal with entireties, being capable of no
divisions nor subtleties of praise or blame. Whereas his anger had
been fierce against his sister that she should love and marry the man
who had flouted her, now it was turned wholly against himself for his
injustice and ill-treatment of her. He racked himself with the memory
of his surly words and looks; and those six shirts of fine linen,
with the cunning needlework in band and bosom, seemed the veritable
scriptural coals of fire on his head. Also good and simple reasons
for his sister's course came to him as he lay there and influenced
him still more. "She had it in her mind to kill him, though 'twas the
other she struck," he said to himself; "'tis only fit that she should
make amends to him for that and keep his house for him, and bake and
brew and spin and weave for him." Richard in the darkness nodded his
head in agreement with his own argument, and yet he hated Burr as
well as ever, and the next morning when he saw him stand beside his
sister before Parson Fair, he clenched his slender brown hands until
the sinews stood out, and his black eyes still flashed hostility at
him. Yet when he looked at Madelon's face his own softened, and he
set his mouth hard to keep back the quiver in it. Madelon wore not
the silk of green and gold in which she had planned to be wedded to
Lot; that she could not bring her mind to do, since the old wretched
dreams and imaginations seemed to cling to the garment and desecrat