e
fell a little when Richard explained the nature of the letter. Ethie was
not found; she was only proved innocent of the terrible thing Richard
had feared for her, and in being proven innocent, she was for a moment
almost wholly restored to his favor. She would come back some time. She
could not mean to leave him forever. She was only doing it for a scare,
and to punish him for what he did that night. He deserved punishment,
too, he thought, for he was pretty hard on her, and as he surely had
been punished in all he had suffered during the last forty-eight hours,
he would, when she came back, call everything even between them, and
begin anew.

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 m