Ethelyn's Mistake

There was something peculiar in the tone of her voice--something almost

beseeching, as if she either wanted sympathy, or encouragement for the

performance of some good act. But Richard did not so understand her. He

was, to tell the truth, a very little cross, as men, and women, too, are

apt to be when tired with sight-seeing and dissipation. He had been away

from his business three whole weeks, traveling with a party for not one

member of which, with the exception of his wife, Melinda, Marcia, and

Ella, did he care a straw.

Hotel life at St. Paul he regarded as a bore, second only to life at

Saratoga. The falls of Minnehaha "was a very pretty little stream," he

thought, but what people could see about it go into such ecstasies as

Ethelyn, and even Melinda did, he could not tell. Perhaps if Harry

Clifford had not formed a part of every scene where Ethelyn was the

prominent figure, he might have judged differently. But Harry had been

greatly in his way, and Richard did not like it any more than he liked

Ethelyn's flirting so much with him, and leaving him, her husband, to

look about for himself. He had shown, too, that he did not like it to

Marcia Fenton and Ella Backus who probably thought him a bear, as

perhaps he was. On the whole, Richard was very uncomfortable in his

mind, and Aunt Van Buren's letter did not tend in the least to improve

his temper; so when Ethelyn asked him of what he was thinking, and

accompanied her question with a stroke of her hand upon his hair, he

answered her, "Nothing much, except that I am tired and sleepy."

The touch upon his hair he had felt to his finger tips, for Ethelyn

seldom caressed him even as much as this; but he was in too moody a

frame of mind to respond as he would once have done. His manner was not

very encouraging, but, as if she had nerved herself to some painful

duty, Ethelyn persisted, and said to him next: "You have not seen Aunt

Van Buren's letter. Shall I read you what she says?"

Every nerve in Richard's body had been quivering with curiosity to see

that letter, but now, when the coveted privilege was within his reach,

he refused it; and, little dreaming of all he was throwing aside,

answered indifferently: "No, I don't know that I care to hear it. I

hardly think it will pay. Where are they now?"

"At Saratoga," Ethelyn replied; but her voice was not the same which had

addressed Richard first; there was a coldness, a constraint in it now,

as if her good resolution had been thrown back upon her and frozen up

the impulse prompting her to the right.