Edith returned to her home to attend to necessary duties, which she had neglected during the month past. During that time, she had watched almost constantly by her mother's bedside.
It was a cold dreary day when Edith, fatigued with her day's work, sought her pillow for a short sleep.
"Just an hour," she said to herself, "and then I will dress and go to mother's."
But she could not rest. Evidently she was overtired. She lay upon her couch, gazing dreamily through the window at the heavy snow-drifts without. It was March, The wind blew the fluffy white specks in all directions, and made a cold, dreary scene. Edith's heart was strangely heavy. She ought to be joyous at her mother's change for the better, but somehow her heart held a chill forboding, and she began to weep softly. She felt very much alone today. Her husband had been away for one week—a combination of business and pleasure had taken him. He was compelled to go, but he might have returned two days sooner, if he had not accepted an invitation to a week-end.
Of course she could no go, but that was no reason why he should not.
Edith agreed to this. She was always with her mother anyway. She could not wish him to stay at home for her, yet, today she wished he had—she was so lonely! "I never could have enjoyed it without Howard," she thought restlessly.
"O, but men are different," she assured herself. "I guess I am growing selfish. He will surely come tomorrow,—" and she aroused herself from her despondency and began to dress.
Near the completion of her toilet, the maid entered with a card.
She took it absently, then started when she read,—Dr. Cadman.
"Wishes to see me?" she asked the maid, wonderingly.