Yes, maybe she was somewhere, but so long as Richard did not know where, it was poor comfort for him.  One thing, however, he could do—­he could save her good name until the matter was further investigated; and pulling Harry after him into his room, he sat down by the cold, dark stove, over which he crouched shiveringly, while he said, “Ethie has gone to visit a friend, most likely—­a Mrs. Amsden, who lives in the direction of Olney.  So please, for her sake, do not say either now or ever who went on the train with her.”

“You have my word as a gentleman that I will not,” Harry replied; “and as no one but myself ever knew that they were cousins and acquaintances, their names need not be mentioned together, even if she never returns.”

“But she will—­she will come back, Ethie will.  She has only gone to Mrs. Amsden’s,” Richard replied, his teeth chattering and his voice betraying all the fear and anguish he tried so hard to hide.

Harry saw how cold he seemed, and with his own hands built a quick wood fire, and then asked: 

“Shall I leave you alone, or would you prefer me to stay?”

“Yes, stay.  I do not like being here alone, though Ethie will come back.  She’s only gone to visit Mrs. Amsden,” and Richard whispered the words, “gone to visit Mrs. Amsden.”

It is pitiful to see a strong man cut down so suddenly, and every nerve of Harry’s throbbed in sympathy as he sat watching the deserted husband walking up and down the room, now holding his cold fingers to the fire and now saying to himself:  “She has only gone to Mrs. Amsden’s.  She will be back to-morrow.”

At last the clock struck eleven, and then Richard roused from his lethargy and said:  “The next train for Olney passes at twelve.  I am going there, Harry—­going after Ethie.  You’ll see her coming back to-morrow.”

Richard hardly knew why he was going back to Olney, unless it were from a wish to be near his own kith and kin in this hour of sorrow.  He knew that Ethie had gone, and the Mrs. Amsden ruse was thrown out for the benefit of Harry, who, frightened at the expression of Richard’s face, did not dare to leave him alone until he saw him safely on board the train, which an hour later dropped him upon the slippery platform in Olney, and then went speeding on in the same direction Ethie once had gone.

* * * * *

Mrs. Markham’s candles were finished, and in straight even rows were laid away in the candle-box, the good woman finding to her great satisfaction that there were just ten dozen besides the slim little thing she had burned during the evening, and which, with a long, crisp snuff, like the steeple of a church, was now standing on the chair by her bed.  The hash was chopped ready for breakfast, the coffee was prepared, and the kindlings were lying near the stove, where, too, were hanging to dry Andy’s stockings, which he had that day wet through.  They had sat