Ethie’s headache spent itself at last, and she awoke at the close of the third day, free from pain, but very weak and languid, and wholly unequal to the task of entertaining Mrs. Peter Pry, who had been so distressed on her account, and was so delighted with a chance to see and talk with her again.  Ethie knew she meant to be kind, and believed she was sincere in her professions of friendship.  At another time she might have been glad to see her; but now, when she guessed what the theme of conversation would be, she felt a thrill of terror as the good woman came in, knitting in hand, and announced her intention of sitting through the chapel exercises.  She was not going to prayer meeting that night, she said, for Dr. Foster was absent, and they were always stupid when he was away.  She could not understand all Mr.——­ said, his words were so learned, while the man who talked so long, and never came to the point, was insufferable in hot weather, so she remained away, and came to see her friend, who, she supposed, knew that she had a governor for next-door neighbor—­Governor Markham from Iowa—­and a widower, too, as Dr. Hayes had said, when she asked why his wife was not there with him.

“A widower!” and Ethie looked up so inquiringly that Mrs. Pry, mistaking the nature of her sudden interest, went on more flippantly.  “Yes, and a splendid looking man, too, if he wasn’t sick.  I saw him in the chapel this morning—­the only time he has been there—­and sat where I had a good view of his face.  They say he is very rich, and has one of the handsomest places in Davenport.”

“Does he live in Davenport?” Ethie asked, in some surprise, and Mrs. Pry replied: 

“Yes; and that Miss Owens, from New York, is setting her cap for him already.  She met him in Washington, a few years ago, and the minute chapel exercises were over, she and her mother made up to him at once.  I’m glad there’s somebody good enough for them to notice.  If there’s a person I dislike it’s that Susan Owens and her mother.  I do hope she’ll find a husband.  It’s what she’s here for, everybody says.”

Mrs. Peter had dropped a stitch while animadverting against Miss Susan Owens, from New York, and stopped a moment while she picked it up.  It would be difficult to describe Ethelyn’s emotions as she heard her own husband talked of as something marketable, which others than Susan Owens might covet.  He was evidently the lion of the season.  It was something to have a governor of Richard’s reputation in the house, and the guests made the most of it, wishing he would join them in the parlor or on the piazza, and regretting that he stayed so constantly in his room.  Many attempts were made to draw him out, Mrs. and Miss Owens, on the strength of their acquaintance in Washington, venturing to call upon him, and advising him to take more exercise.  Miss Owens’ voice was loud and clear, and Ethie heard it distinctly as the young lady talked and laughed with Richard,