She was gazing fixedly at Andy, who replied:  “Yes, Dick is here.  He’s glad to have you back.  He’s kissed you more than forty times.  He don’t remember nothing.’’

“And the divorce, Andy—­is the story true, and am I not his wife?”

“I never heard of no divorce, only what you said about one in your tantrums.  Dick would as soon have cut off his head as got such a thing,” Andy replied.

Ethelyn knew she could rely on what Andy said, and a heartfelt “Thank God!  It is more than I deserve!” fell from her lips, just as a step was heard in the hall.

“That’s Dick,—­he’s coming,” Andy whispered, and hastily withdrawing he left the two alone together.

It was more than an hour before even Aunt Barbara ventured into the room, and when she did she knew by the joy written on Richard’s face and the deep peace shining in Ethie’s eyes that the reconciliation had been complete and perfect.  Every error had been confessed, every fault forgiven, and the husband and wife stood ready now to begin the world anew, with perfect love for and confidence in each other.  Ethie had acknowledged all her faults, the greatest of which was the giving her hand to one from whom she withheld her heart.

“But you have that now,” she said.  “I can truly say that I love you far betten than ever frank Van Buren was loved, and I know you to be worthy, too.  I have been so wicked, Richard,—­so wilful and impatient,—­that I wonder you have not learned to hate my very name.  I may be wilful still.  My old hot temper is not all subdued, though I hope I am a better woman than I used to be when I cared for nothing but myself.  God has been so good to me who have forgotten Him so long; but we will serve Him together now.”

As Ethie talked she had nestled closer and closer to her husband, whose arms encircled her form and whose face bent itself down to hers, while a rain of tears fell upon her hair and forehead as the strong man,—­the grave Judge and the honored Governor,—­confessed where he, too, had been in fault, and craving his young wife’s pardon, ascribed also to God the praise for bringing them both to feel their dependence on Him, as well as to see this day, the happiest of their lives.

Gradually, as she could bear it, the family came in one by one to see her, Mrs. Markham, Sen., waiting till the very last, and refusing to go until Ethelyn had expressed a wish to see her.

“I was pretty hard on her, I s’pose, and it would not be strange if she laid it up against me,” she said to Melinda; but Ethie had nothing against her now.

The deep waters through which she had passed had obliterated all traces of bitterness toward anyone, and when her mother-in-law came in she feebly extended her hand and whispered:  “I’m too tired, mother, to talk much, but kiss me once for the sake of what we are going to be to each other.”

Mrs. Markham was not naturally a bad or a hard woman, either.  She was only unfortunate that her ideas had run in one rut so long without any jolt to throw them out.  Circumstances had greatly softened her, and Ethie’s words touched her deeply.