Mrs. Barton walked homeward slowly, musing bitterly on her cousin's want of feeling.
"How cold-hearted he is!" she murmured. "He evidently cares nothing for our needs, or the prospect of our hardships. He lives in a fine house, and rears his family in luxury, while Bert and I are likely to want even the necessaries of life."
Perhaps Mrs. Barton was a little too despondent. Perhaps she ought to have had more trust in Providence; but there had been sorrows in her life which had robbed her of her natural hopefulness, and she was no longer as courageous in the face of threatening misfortune as she had once been.
She had nearly reached home when, from out of the darkness, a man's figure advanced from the roadside and laid his hand upon her arm.
"Who are you!" she asked faintly, suppressing a scream.
"Don't be frightened, Mary," was the reply, "I am your husband, Simeon Barton."