“How dare you suggest such a thing to me?” exclaimed Olive, with an amount of angry energy surprising in one so weak.
“Well, we had it from the people who saw you go away with him, and who heard you say you were going. I don’t see how we could possibly have thought other than we did.”
“You must be a wicked woman to think such a thing,” said Olive. Her chin began to quiver piteously.
“I am not going to condemn you,” replied Sister Winkle, in a philosophic vein. “If you found you preferred him to Ezra I don’t think you would have been wrong in showing your preference in an unmistakable manner. Marriage is a partnership which either side should be free to dissolve. Mistakes are sometimes made in it as in other affairs. Our marriage is not a mistake, because Wright and I don’t make mistakes, but other people are different, and I don’t see why they should be punished for an honest mistake. Marriage should be free. Perfection City was founded on freedom. We thought that you had used your right of choice, and since you liked Cotterell best had gone with him. We thought that Madame would soon marry Ezra, since he was now free, and she had always wanted to.”
Olive sprang from her chair and steadied herself with her trembling hands by clutching the back of it.
“Mary Winkle, I hate you,” she said, in a voice choking with emotion. “Perfection City is a sinful, wicked place. I wish I had never seen it. If I live, and Ezra loves me, I hope he will take me away so I may never hear its name again.”
She stamped bravely out of the house under the influence of her anger, but her strength did not carry her far, and she sank down upon the wood-pile weeping bitterly, unable to walk another step. Sister Mary, somewhat disgusted at the way in which her philosophy had been received, resolved to let her cool off a little before going out to offer Olive an arm to conduct her back into the house. Thus it came about that Olive was still sitting weeping on the wood-pile when Uncle David came hurrying up, having just heard of her arrival, and close behind him came Ezra running like a mad-man. When Olive saw him she started towards her husband with outstretched arms, but her weakness overcame her, and she would have fallen to the ground only that he was just in time to catch her in his arms, where she fell laughing and crying in the most incoherent manner imaginable.
“Oh, Ezra, you didn’t believe that wicked story? And you do love me, don’t you? And you won’t marry her, and you aren’t dead, are you? Tell Mary Winkle you hate her too. And why didn’t you come to me when I sent for you?”
Ezra could only kiss her, and pet her, and soothe her in every way while Olive kept saying hysterically, “You won’t, will you?” and “You will, won’t you?” All of which Ezra promised faithfully to perform. She absolutely refused to re-enter Sister Mary Winkle’s house, whereupon the latter, somewhat conscience-stricken, offered to send in food for their supper at their own house, provided Olive was not told who had sent it. The secret was kept, and Olive partook heartily of what otherwise would undoubtedly have choked her.
Uncle David hovered over her with anxious love and remorse. “Bless her heart, o’ course he didn’t b’lieve nothin’ ’bout her goin’ off. Yer bet he didn’t, he knowed it was all right, on’y she was so long a-com-in’ home he sorter kinder got oneasy, an’ that’s why they went out to fin’ her, an’ dear, dear, had she been an’ gone an’ got that plaguey ague, an’ he not there to see a’ter her, an’ there wasn’t nothin’ like Ayre’s Ague Cure for that, an’ he would go right ’long home this minute an’ get her some right away.”