They were very pleasant to Ethelyn, for with Aunt Barbara anticipating
every want, and talking of Chicopee; she could not be very weary. It was
pleasant, too, having Richard home again, and Ethie was very soft and
kind and amiable toward him; but she did not tell him of the letter she
had commenced, or hint at the confession he longed to hear. It would
have been comparatively easy to write it, but with him there where she
could look into his face and watch the dark expression which was sure to
come into his eyes, it was hard to tell him that Frank Van Buren had
held the first place in her affections, if indeed he did not hold it
now. She was not certain yet, though she hoped and tried to believe that
Frank was nothing more than cousin now. He surely ought not to be, with
Nettie calling him her husband, while she too was a wife. But so subtle
was the poison which that unfortunate attachment had infused into her
veins that she could not tell whether her nature was cleared of it or
not, and so, though she asked forgiveness for having so literally kept
her vow, and said that she did commence a letter to him, she kept back
the most important part of all. It was better to wait, she thought,
until she could truly say, "I loved Frank Van Buren once, but now I love
you far better than ever I did him."
Had she guessed how much Richard knew, and how the knowledge was
rankling in his bosom, she might have done differently. But she took the
course she thought the best, and the perfect understanding Richard had
so ardently hoped for was not then arrived at. For a time, however,
there seemed to be perfect peace between them, and could Richard have
forgotten Frank Van Buren's words or even those of Ethie herself when
her fever was on, he would have been supremely happy. But to forget was
impossible, and he often found himself wondering how much of Frank's
assertion was true, and if Ethelyn would ever be as open and honest
with him as he had tried to be with her. She did not get well very fast,
and the color came slowly back into her lips and cheeks. She was far
happier than she had been before since she first came to Olney. She
could not say that she loved her husband as a true wife ought to love a
man like Richard Markham, but she found a pleasure in his society which
she had never experienced before, while Aunt Barbara's presence was a
constant source of joy. That good woman had prolonged her stay far
beyond what she had thought it possible when she left Chicopee. She
could not tear herself away, when Ethie pleaded so earnestly for her to
remain a little longer, and so, wholly impervious to the hints which
Mrs. Markham occasionally threw out, that her services were no longer
needed as nurse to Ethelyn, she stayed on week after week, seeing far
more than she seemed to see, and making up her mind pretty accurately
with regard to the prospect of Ethie's happiness, if she remained an
inmate of her husband's family.