Ethelyn's Mistake

Richard had had his chance with Ethelyn and lost it. But he did not know

it, or guess how sorry and disappointed she was when at last she left

him and retired to her sleeping-room. There was a window open in the

parlor, and as the wind was rising with a sound of rain, Richard went to

close it ere following his wife. The window was near to the piano and as

he shut it something rattled at his feet. It was the crumpled letter,

which Ethelyn had accidentally drawn from her dress pocket with the

handkerchief she held in her hand when she sat down by Richard. He knew

it was that letter, and his first thought was to carry it to Ethelyn;

then, as he remembered her offer to read it to him, he said, "Surely

there can be no harm in reading it for myself. A man has a right to know

what is in a letter to his wife."

Thus reasoning, he sat down by the side light as far away from the

bedroom door as possible and commenced Mrs. Dr. Van Buren's letter. They

were stopping at the United States, and there was nothing particular at

first, except her usual remarks of the people and what they wore; but on

the third page Richard's eye caught Frank's name, and skipping all else,

leaped eagerly forward to what the writer was saying of her son. His

conduct evidently did not please his mother; neither did the conduct of

Nettie, who was too insipid for anything, the lady wrote, adding that

she was not half so bright and pretty as when she was first married, but

had the headache and kept her own room most of the time, and was looking

so faded and worn that Frank was really ashamed of her.

"You know how he likes brilliant, sparkling girls," she wrote, "and of

course he has no patience with Nettie's fancied ailments. I can't say

that I altogether sympathize with her myself; and, dear Ethie, I must

acknowledge that it has more than once occurred to me that I did very

wrong to meddle with Frank's first love affair. He would be far happier

now if it had been suffered to go on, for I suspect he has never

entirely gotten over it; but it is too late now for regrets. Nettie is

his wife, and he must make the best of it."

Then followed what seemed the secret of the Van Buren discomfort. The

bank in which most of Nettie's fortune was deposited had failed, leaving

her with only the scanty income of five hundred dollars a year, a sum

not sufficient to buy clothes, Mrs. Van Buren said. But Richard did not

notice this--his mind was only intent upon Frank's first love affair,

which ought to have gone on. He did not ask himself whether, in case it

had gone on, Ethelyn would have been there, so near to him that her soft

breathing came distinctly to his ear. He knew she would not; there had

been something between her and Frank Van Buren, he was convinced beyond

a doubt, and the fiercest pang he had ever known was that which came to

him when he sat with Mrs. Dr. Van Buren's letter in his hand, wondering

why Ethie had withheld the knowledge of it from him, and if she had

outlived the love which her aunt regretted as having come to naught.

Then, as the more generous part of his nature began to seek excuses for

her, he asked himself why she offered to read the letter if she had

really been concerned in Frank's first love affair, and hope whispered

that possibly she was not the heroine of that romance. There was comfort

in that thought: and Richard would have been comforted if jealousy had

not suggested how easy it was for her to skip the part relating to

Nettie and Frank, and thus leave him as much in the dark as ever. Yes,

that was undoubtedly her intention. While seeming to be so open and

honest, she would have deceived him all the more. This was what Richard

decided, and his heart grew very hard against the young wife, who looked

so innocent and pretty in her quiet sleep, when at last he sought his

pillow and lay down by her side.