"You said I could go home until I got well."
"Yes, I know," I answered, controlling my excitement. "But to leave home in such weather is foolhardy."
It had been snowing all day and was slippery and cold outside.
"And, besides," I argued, "you should never have left home until I returned. Didn't you get my letter?" I inquired, looking at her with a puzzled expression.
"No," she replied, appearing bewildered. "But I saw Ollie hand something to papa."
I then recalled that I had addressed the letter to him.
"But," I went on, "I wrote you a letter last week that you should have received not later than Saturday."
"I— I— I never received it," she answered, and seemed frightened.
I could not understand what had taken place. I had left my wife two weeks before, feeling that I held her affections, and had thought only of the time we'd be settled at last, with her well again.
The Reverend had said so much about her going home that I had consented, but had stipulated that I would wait until she was better and would then see whether we could afford it or not.
Suddenly a horrible suspicion struck me with such force as almost to stagger me, but calming myself, I decided to talk to the elder. He came in about that time and looked very peculiar when he saw me.
The town was full of people that night and he had
