every nerve
of Harry's throbbed in sympathy as he sat watching the deserted husband
walking up and down the room, now holding his cold fingers to the fire
and now saying to himself: "She has only gone to Mrs. Amsden's. She will
be back to-morrow."

At last the clock struck eleven, and then Richard roused from his
lethargy and said: "The next train for Olney passes at twelve. I am
going there, Harry--going after Ethie. You'll see her coming back
to-morrow."

Richard hardly knew why he was going back to Olney, unless it were from
a wish to be near his own kith and kin in this hour of sorrow. He knew
that Ethie had gone, and the Mrs. Amsden ruse was thrown out for the
benefit of Harry, who, frightened at the expression of Richard's face,
did not dare to leave him alone until he saw him safely on board the
train, which an hour later dropped him upon the slippery platform in
Olney, and then went speeding on in the same direction Ethie once
had gone.

* * * * *

Mrs. Markham's candles were finished, and in straight even rows were
laid away in the candle-box, the good woman finding to her great
satisfaction that there were just ten dozen besides the slim little
thing she had burned during the evening, and which, with a long, crisp
snuff, like the steeple of a church, was now standing on the chair by
her bed. The hash was chopped ready for breakfast, the coffee was
prepared, and the kindlings were lying near the stove, where, too, were
hanging to dry Andy's stockings, which he had that day wet through. They
had sat up later than usual at the farmhouse that night, for Melinda and
her mother had been over there, and the boys had made molasses candy,
and "stuck up" every dish and spoon, as Mrs. Markham said. Tim had come
after his mother and sister, and as he had a good deal to say, the clock
struck eleven before the guests departed, and Andy buttoned the door of
the woodshed and put the nail over the window by the sink. Mrs. Markham
had no suspicion of the trial in store for her, but for some cause she
felt restless and nervous, and even scary, as she expressed it herself.
"Worked too hard, I guess," she thought, as she tied on her
high-crowned, broad-frilled nightcap, and then as a last chore, wound
the clock before stepping into bed.

It was nearly midnight, and for some little time she lay awake listening
to the wind as it swept past the house, or screamed through the key-hole
of the door.