t, the little
priest, who was a courageous man, even hinted to Francezka that she
should wear mourning. This went to her heart like a knife. To put on
the garments of widowhood would be the last abandonment of hope, and
to this she would not consent. She adopted, however, the Spanish
costume, which is black, but not mourning, and no one could accuse her
of unseemliness in her attire.

She found her house swept and garnished, for Francezka's administrative
qualities were of that order which make affairs apparently go on of
themselves. The dog Bold was overjoyed to see her and became, as
formerly, her inseparable companion. The harvests had been good, her
flocks and herds had prospered; all belonging to Francezka seemed to
bask in the sunlight of good fortune, except Francezka herself.

As soon as her return was known she was overrun with visitors, mostly
impelled by curiosity, who pestered her with questions. Francezka met
these with the spirit and courage which were a part of her. Being
naturally and incurably humorous, she often smiled, and even laughed,
though her heart was near to breaking, at the air of surprise and even
chagrin with which her calm announcement was received that she did not
yet admit her husband to be dead, and should ever hope for his return.
But these idle persons inflicted upon her pride a burning smart; she
continually felt that she was reckoned foolish and visionary--she, the
most practical, the most resourceful, the most entirely sensible of
women.

She had greater courage, a more powerful imagination than most people,
and so the commonplace of the earth had ever been eager to deny her
common sense. She had proved herself possessed of the most sublime
common sense in the management of her life and her affairs. Beautiful
and alone, she had escaped slander; with a great fortune and perfect
liberty, she had avoided the ever present snare of being married for
her fortune, and had chosen a man who loved her for herself alone, and
would have married her in her smock. She had proved herself capable in
every emergency, and had commanded love and admiration, a thing not
easily forgiven. Now, the small-minded, the carpers and the critics,
had their opportunity, and they fell upon her in full cry like a pack
of wolves.

She could sustain herself against them. They might whisper and
backbite--they might point with unctuous hypocrisy at the terrible
results of a marriage made solely to please herself,