s of a
reconciliation; that Richard, after reading her note, would move heaven
and earth to find her, and having done so, would thenceforth be her
willing slave; possibly, too, remembering the harsh things he had so
recently said to her, she exulted a little as she saw him coming back to
his deserted home, and finding his domestic altar laid low in the dust.
But if this was so she gave no sign, and though her face was deathly
pale, her nerves were steady and her voice calm, as she gave orders
concerning her baggage, and then when it was time, turned the key upon
her room, and left it with the clerk, to whom she said:

"I shall not be back until my husband returns."

She was going to Olney, of course--going to see his folks, the landlady
said, when she heard Mrs. Markham had gone; and so no wonder was created
among the female boarders, except that Ethelyn had not said good-by to a
single one of them. She was not equal to that. Her great desire was to
escape unseen, and with a veil drawn closely over her face, she sat in
the darkest corner of the ladies' room, waiting impatiently for the
arrival of the train, and glancing furtively at the people around her.
Groups of men were walking up and down upon the platform without, and
among them Frank Van Buren. On his way to the cars he had called again
at the Stafford House, and learned that Mrs. Markham was out.

"I'll see her when I return," he thought, and so went his way to the
train, which would take him to his next point of destination.

Never once dreaming how near he was to her, Ethie drew her veil and furs
more closely around her, and turning her face to the frosty window,
gazed drearily out into the wintry darkness as they sped swiftly on. She
hardly knew where she was going or what she could do when she was there.
She was conscious only of the fact that she was breaking away from
scenes and associations which had been so distasteful to her--that she
was leaving a husband who had been abusive to her, and she verily
believed she had just cause for going. The world might not see it so,
perhaps, but she did not care for the world. She was striking out a path
of her own, and with her heart as sore and full of anger as it then was,
she felt able to cope with any difficulty, so that her freedom was
achieved. They were skirting across the prairie now; and the lights of
Olney were in sight. Perhaps she could see the farmhouse, and rubbing,
with her warm palm, the moisture f