Ethelyn's Mistake

They were very pleasant to Ethelyn, for with Aunt Barbara anticipating

every want, and talking of Chicopee; she could not be very weary. It was

pleasant, too, having Richard home again, and Ethie was very soft and

kind and amiable toward him; but she did not tell him of the letter she

had commenced, or hint at the confession he longed to hear. It would

have been comparatively easy to write it, but with him there where she

could look into his face and watch the dark expression which was sure to

come into his eyes, it was hard to tell him that Frank Van Buren had

held the first place in her affections, if indeed he did not hold it

now. She was not certain yet, though she hoped and tried to believe that

Frank was nothing more than cousin now. He surely ought not to be, with

Nettie calling him her husband, while she too was a wife. But so subtle

was the poison which that unfortunate attachment had infused into her

veins that she could not tell whether her nature was cleared of it or

not, and so, though she asked forgiveness for having so literally kept

her vow, and said that she did commence a letter to him, she kept back

the most important part of all. It was better to wait, she thought,

until she could truly say, "I loved Frank Van Buren once, but now I love

you far better than ever I did him."

Had she guessed how much Richard knew, and how the knowledge was

rankling in his bosom, she might have done differently. But she took the

course she thought the best, and the perfect understanding Richard had

so ardently hoped for was not then arrived at. For a time, however,

there seemed to be perfect peace between them, and could Richard have

forgotten Frank Van Buren's words or even those of Ethie herself when

her fever was on, he would have been supremely happy. But to forget was

impossible, and he often found himself wondering how much of Frank's

assertion was true, and if Ethelyn would ever be as open and honest

with him as he had tried to be with her. She did not get well very fast,

and the color came slowly back into her lips and cheeks. She was far

happier than she had been before since she first came to Olney. She

could not say that she loved her husband as a true wife ought to love a

man like Richard Markham, but she found a pleasure in his society which

she had never experienced before, while Aunt Barbara's presence was a

constant source of joy. That good woman had prolonged her stay far

beyond what she had thought it possible when she left Chicopee. She

could not tear herself away, when Ethie pleaded so earnestly for her to

remain a little longer, and so, wholly impervious to the hints which

Mrs. Markham occasionally threw out, that her services were no longer

needed as nurse to Ethelyn, she stayed on week after week, seeing far

more than she seemed to see, and making up her mind pretty accurately

with regard to the prospect of Ethie's happiness, if she remained an

inmate of her husband's family.