he had suffered that day.

"What was the row with you about, anyway?" he inquired with evident
aversion to her presence.

Elizabeth had withered into a quivering semblance of the confident woman
who had run to meet him five minutes ago. Her knees shook under her with
collapse. She sat down on the edge of the bed and stammered her
explanations as if she had been a naughty child caught red-handed in some
act of which she was ashamed.

"It--oh, John! I only went to him to make up about--about other things.
We--we didn't have any fuss exactly. It--it was just the same old thing.
I--I begged ma not to make me go home. I told her what he would--I knew
he'd whip me, but she would have me go."

"Well, he couldn't whip you for nothing," John said, with brutal inquiry.
"What'd you fall out with him for? I never heard of such a thing as a girl
who was a woman grown that fell out with her father till he whipped her."

Exasperated and miserable, John bestowed blame in the only convenient
place he found.

The young wife buried her face in the counterpane and did not attempt to
reply, and after looking dully at her for a moment John Hunter went out
and left her to carry her burden of shame alone. The sound of the closing
door assured her that at least she could be alone in her tears, and the
humbled girl gave herself up to sobbing. Luther and Aunt Susan would never
be quite convinced that she had done her best to avoid trouble; she even
wondered herself if there might not have been some fault in the way she
had approached her father. As usual, Elizabeth was concerned with the
trouble of others. The whole dreadful thing passed before her with the
vividness of actual reproduction. John's mother knew this at any rate.
That was a sore point. They were in the kitchen talking it over now! With
the conviction of absolute certainty, Elizabeth buried her face in the
counterpane of her bridal couch and sobbed in desolate abandon.

After a time John came back again and looked into the room. Seeing her
distress, he went over slowly and lifted her to her feet with a stir of
pity.

"Don't cry," he said gloomily. "It can't be helped. Come on out to the
kitchen and help mother with the supper."

Elizabeth knew that at that moment he did not want to caress her, but her
hungry soul craved comfort beyond her power to control and she dug her
face into his breast and sobbed there unasked.

[Illustration: "THE YOUNG WIFE BURIED HER FACE IN THE C