This was Richard's reasoning; and that night he slept soundly, dreaming
that Ethie had returned, and on her knees was suing for his forgiveness,
while her voice was broken with tears and choking sobs. As a man and
husband who had been deserted, it was his duty to remain impassive a few
moments, while Ethie atoned fully for her misdeeds: then he would
forgive her, and so he waited an instant, and while he waited he woke to
find only Andy, with whom he was sleeping, kneeling by the bedside, with
the wintry moonlight falling on his upturned face, as he prayed for the
dear sister Ethie, whose steps had "mewandered" so far away.
"Don't let any harm come to her; don't let anybody look at her for bad,
but keep her--keep her--keep her in safety, and send her back to poor
old Dick and me, and make Dick use her better than I 'most know he has,
for he's got the Markham temper in him, and everybody knows what
that is."
This was Andy's prayer, taken from no book or printed form, but the
outpouring of his simple, honest heart, and Richard heard it, wincing a
little as Andy thus made confession for him of his own sins; but he did
not pray himself, though he was glad of Andy's prayers, and placed great
hopes upon them. God would hear Andy, and if he did not send Ethie back
at once, he would surely keep her from harm.
The next day Richard went back to Camden. Melinda Jones had suggested
that possibly Ethie left a letter, or note, which would explain her
absence, and Richard caught at it eagerly, wondering he had not thought
of it before, and feeling very impatient to be off, even though he
dreaded to meet some of his old friends, and be questioned as to the
whereabouts of his wife. He did not know that the story of his desertion
was already there--Mrs. Amsden having gone to town with her mite, which,
added to the sale of the piano, Ethie's protracted absence, Richard's
return to Olney at midnight, and Harry Clifford's serious and mysterious
manner, were enough to set the town in motion. Various opinions were
expressed, and, what was very strange, so popular were both Richard and
Ethelyn that everybody disliked blaming either, and so but few unkind
remarks had as yet been made, and those by people who had been jealous
or envious of Ethelyn's high position. No one knew a whisper of Frank
Van Buren, for Harry kept his promise well, and no worse motive was
ascribed to Ethie's desertion than want of perfect congeniality with her
husband. Thus they were not foes, but friends, who welcomed Richard back
to Camden, watching him curiously, and wishing so much to ask where Mrs.
Markham was. That she was not with him, was certain, for only Andy
came--Andy, who held his head so high, and looked round so defiantly, as
he kept close to Richard's side on the way to the hotel. It was very
dreary going up the old, familiar staircase into the quiet hall, and
along to the door of the silent room, which seemed drearier than on that
night when he first came back to it and found Ethie gone. There were
ashes now upon the stove-hearth where Hal Clifford had kindled the fire,
and the two chairs they had occupied were standing just where they had
left them. The gas had not been properly turned off, and a dead, sickly
odor filled the room, making Andy heave as he hastened to open the
window, and admit the fresh, pure air.