How he had sympathized with her in her bursts of grief for her father,
soothing her with tenderest caresses and assurances of the bliss of the
departed, and reminding her of the blessed hope of reunion in the better
land.
After all this, she surely might have borne a little from him--a trifling
neglect or reproof, a slight exertion of authority, especially as she
could not deny that she was very young and foolish to be left to her own
guidance.
And perhaps he had a right to claim her obedience, for she knew that she
had promised to give it.
She found she loved him with a depth and passion she had not been aware
of. But he had gone away without a good-by to her, in anger, and with Miss
Deane. He would never have done that if there had been a spark of love
left in his heart.
Where and how was he going to spend that week or ten days? At the house of
Miss Deane's parents, sitting beside her, hearing her talk and enjoying
it, though he knew his little wife at home must be breaking her heart
because of his absence?
Was he doing this instead of carrying out his half threat of locking her
up? Did he know that this was a punishment ten times worse?
But if he wasn't going to love her any more, if he was tired of her and
wanted to be rid of her, how could she ever bear to stay and be a burden
and constant annoyance to him?
Elsie, coming up a little later, found her in her boudoir crying very
bitterly.
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