"She was rather pretty," Mary said; "but her face was thin and pale, and

her eyes, she guessed, were black."

It was not Ethie, then--Richard had never believed it was--but he felt

sorry that she was gone, whoever she might be, and Clifton was not so

pleasant to him now as it had been at first. He was much better, and had

been once to the chapel, when up the three flights of stairs Perry came

and along the hall till he stopped at Room No. 102. There was a telegram

for Richard, who took it with trembling hands and read it with a blur

before his eyes and something at his heart like a blow, but which was

born of a sudden hope that, after many days and months and years of

waiting, God had deigned to be merciful. But only for a brief moment did

this hope buoy him up. It could not be, he said; and yet, as he made his

hasty preparations for his journey, he found the possibility constantly

recurring to his mind, while the nearer he came to Davenport the more

probable it seemed, and the more impatient he grew at every little

delay. There were several upon the road, and once, only fifty miles from

home, there was a detention of four hours. But the long train moved at

last, and just as the sun was setting the cars stopped in the Davenport

depot, and as the passengers alighted the loungers whispered to each

other, "Governor Markham has come home."




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