First the
letters, a score or two, and then the papers, matters of less account,
but still snatched eagerly by those who could get nothing better. There
was a paper for Mrs. More-house, and Mrs. Stone, and Mrs. Wilson, and
Mrs. Turner, while Mr. Danforth had half a dozen or less, and then Perry
paused a moment over a new name--one which had never before been called
in the parlor at Clifton:
"Richard Markham, Esq."
The name rang out loud and clear, and Ethie grasped the pillar tightly
to keep herself from falling. She did not hear Mr. Danforth explaining
that it was "Governor Markham from Iowa, who came the night before." She
did not know, either, how she left the parlor, for the next thing of
which she was perfectly conscious was the fact that she was hurrying up
the stairs and through the unfinished halls toward her own room, casting
frightened glances around, and almost shrieking with excitement when
through the open door of No. 102 she heard Dr. Hayes speaking to
someone, and in the voice which answered recognized her husband.
He was there, then, next to her, separated by only a thin partition--the
husband whom she had not seen for five long years, whom she had
voluntarily left, resolving never to go back to him again, was there,
where, just by crossing a single threshold, she could fall at his feet
and sue for the forgiveness she had made up her mind to crave should she
ever see him again.
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