No one knew a whisper of Frank
Van Buren, for Harry kept his promise well, and no worse motive was
ascribed to Ethie's desertion than want of perfect congeniality with her
husband. Thus they were not foes, but friends, who welcomed Richard back
to Camden, watching him curiously, and wishing so much to ask where Mrs.
Markham was. That she was not with him, was certain, for only Andy
came--Andy, who held his head so high, and looked round so defiantly, as
he kept close to Richard's side on the way to the hotel. It was very
dreary going up the old, familiar staircase into the quiet hall, and
along to the door of the silent room, which seemed drearier than on that
night when he first came back to it and found Ethie gone. There were
ashes now upon the stove-hearth where Hal Clifford had kindled the fire,
and the two chairs they had occupied were standing just where they had
left them. The gas had not been properly turned off, and a dead, sickly
odor filled the room, making Andy heave as he hastened to open the
window, and admit the fresh, pure air.
"Seems as it did the day Daisy died," Andy said, his eyes filling with
tears.
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