It was later than he supposed, and the clock pointed to almost eleven when he at last said good-night to his mother and went, with a half-guilty feeling, to his room.  But there were no chidings in store for him; for, wearied with her journey and soothed by the music, Ethelyn had forgotten all her cares and lay quietly sleeping, with one hand beneath her cheek and the other resting outside the white counterpane.  Ethie was very pretty in her sleep, and the proud, restless look about her mouth was gone, leaving an expression more like a child’s than like a girl of twenty.  And Richard, looking at her, felt supremely happy that she was his, forgetting all of the past which had been unpleasant, and thinking only that he was blessed above his fellow mortals that he could call the beautiful girl before him his Ethelyn—­his wife.

CHAPTER X

FIRST DAYS IN OLNEY

There were a great many vacant seats in the Methodist church the morning following Ethelyn’s arrival, while Mr. Townsend was surprised at the size of his congregation.  It was generally known that Mrs. Judge Markham was an Episcopalian, and as she would of course patronize the Village Hall, the young people of Olney were there en masse, eager to see the new bride.  But their curiosity was not gratified.  Ethelyn was too tired to go out, Andy said, when questioned on the subject, while Eunice Plympton, who was also of Andy’s faith, and an attendant of the Village Hall, added the very valuable piece of information that “Miss Markham’s breakfast had been taken to her, and that when she [Eunice] came away she was still in bed, or at all events had not yet made her appearance below.”  This, together with Eunice’s assertion that she was handsome, and Tim Jones’ testimony that she was “mighty stuck-up, but awful neat,” was all the disappointed Olneyites knew of Mrs. Richard Markham, who, as Eunice reported, had breakfasted in bed, and was still lying there when the one bell in Olney rang out its summons for church.  She did not pretend to be sick—­only tired and languid, and indisposed for any exertion; and then it was much nicer taking her breakfast from the little tray covered with the snowy towel which Richard brought her, than it was to go down stairs and encounter “all those dreadful people,” as she mentally styled Richard’s family; so she begged for indulgence this once, and Richard could not refuse her request, and so excused her to his mother, who said nothing, but whose face wore an expression which Richard did not like.

Always strong and healthy herself, Mrs. Markham had but little charity for nervous, delicate people, and she devoutly hoped that Richard’s wife would not prove to be one of that sort.  When the dishes were washed, and the floor swept, and the broom hung up in its place, and the sleeves of the brown, dotted calico rolled down, she went herself to see Ethelyn, her quick eye noticing the elaborate night-gown, with