back to Camden. First, however, he must stop
at Olney; the case was imperative--and so he stepped from the train one
snowy afternoon when the February light shone cold and blue upon the
little town and the farmhouse beyond. His brothers were feeding their
flocks and herds in the rear yard to the east; but they came at once to
greet him, and ask after his welfare. The light snow which had fallen
that day was lying upon the front door-steps undisturbed by any track,
so Richard entered at the side. Mrs. Markham was dipping candles, and
the faint, sickly odor of the hot melted tallow, which filled Richard's
olfactories as he came in, was never forgotten, but remembered as part
and parcel of that terrible day which would have a place in his memory
so long as being lasted. Every little thing was impressed upon his mind,
and came up afterward with vivid distinctness whenever he thought of
that wretched time. There was a bit of oilcloth on the floor near to the
dripping candles, and he saw the spots of tallow which had dropped and
dried upon it--saw, too, his mother's short red gown and blue woolen
stockings, as she got up to meet him, and smelled the cabbage cooking on
the stove, for they were having a late dinner that day--the boys'
favorite, and what Mrs. Markham designated as a "dish of biled vittles."

Richard had seen his mother dip candles before--nay, had sometimes
assisted at the dipping. He had seen her short striped gown and blue
woolen stockings, and smelled the cooking cabbage, but they never struck
him with so great a sense of discomfort as they did to-day when he
stood, hat in hand, wondering why home seemed so cheerless. It was as if
the shadow of the great shock awaiting him had already fallen upon him,
oppressing him with a weight he could not well shake off. He had no
thought that any harm had come to Ethie, and yet his first question was
for her. Had his mother heard from her while he was away, or did she
know if she was well?

Mrs. Markham's under jaw dropped, in the way peculiar to her when at all
irritated, but she did not answer at once; she waited a moment, while
she held the rod poised over the iron kettle, and with her forefinger
deliberately separated any of the eight candles which showed a
disposition to stick together; then depositing them upon the frame and
taking up another rod, she said:

"Miss Plympton was down to Camden three or four days ago, and she said
Ann Merrills, the chambermaid at t