The bell in the tower of St. John's pealed forth its summons to the
house of prayer, and one by one, singly or in groups, the worshipers
went up to keep this first solemn day of Lent--true, sincere worshipers,
many of them, who came to weep, and pray, and acknowledge their past
misdeeds; while others came from habit, and because it was the fashion,
their pale, haggard faces and heavy eyes telling plainly of the last
night's dissipation, which had continued till the first hour of the
morning. Mrs. Howard was there, and Mrs. Miller, too, both glancing
inquiringly at Judge Markham's pew and then wonderingly at each other.
Ethelyn was not there. She had breakfast in her room after Richard left,
and when that was over had gone mechanically to her closet and drawers
and commenced sorting her clothes--hanging away the gayest, most
expensive dresses, and laying across chairs and upon the bed the more
serviceable ones, such as might properly be worn on ordinary occasions.
Why she did this she had not yet clearly defined, and when, after her
wardrobe was divided, and she brought out the heavy traveling trunk,
made for her in Boston, she was not quite certain what she meant to do.
She had been sorely wounded, and, as she thought, without just cause.
She knew she was to blame for not having told Richard of Frank before
she became his wife, but of the things with which he had so severely
charged her she was guiltless, and every nerve quivered and throbbed
with passion and resentment as she recalled the scene of the previous
night, going over again with the cruel words Richard had uttered in his
jealous anger, and then burning with shame and indignation as she
thought of being locked in her room, and kept from attending the
masquerade, where her absence must have excited so much wonder.
"What did they say, and what can I tell them when we meet?" she thought,
just as Mrs. Howard's voice was heard in the upper hall.
Church was out, and several of the more intimate of Ethie's friends had
stopped at the Stafford House to inquire into so strange a proceeding.
"Come to see if you were sick, or what, that you disappointed me so. I
was vexed enough, I assure you," Mrs. Miller said, looking curiously
enough at Ethelyn, whose face was white as ashes, save where a crimson
spot burned on her cheeks, and whose lips were firmly pressed together.
She did not know what to say, and when pressed to give a reason
stammered out: "Judge Markham wished me to stay with him, and as an obedient wife I
stayed."
With ready tact the ladies saw that something was wrong, and kindly
forbore further remarks, except to tell what a grand affair it was, and
how much she was missed. But Ethie detected in their manner an unspoken
sympathy or pity, which exasperated and humiliated her more than open
words would have done. Heretofore she had been the envy of the entire
set, and it wounded her deeply to fall from that pedestal to the level
of ordinary people. She was no longer the young wife, whose husband
petted and humored her so much, but the wife whose husband was jealous
and tyrannical, and even abusive, where language was concerned, and she
could not rid herself of the suspicion that her lady friends knew more
than they professed to know, and was heartily glad when they took their
departure and left her again alone.