[CHAPTER XXXII.]
In less time than it takes to tell it, the strained relationship between Eugene Mallard and his bride was whispered through the household. They had laughed at old Black Joe when he had whispered the story of their silence from the railroad station, declaring he was romancing. Later events certainly gave color to the story, however. She was all that was sweet and fair. What could be the trouble?
"If there was ever a bride most wretchedly unhappy, she is that one," said Mrs. Rice, shaking her head.
"Why did he marry her if he did not love her? I can not understand it, I am sure."
Mrs. Rice went to the bride's room the next morning to awaken her. She found her already up and sitting by the window, and there was no indication that she had removed her dress. This was reduced to a certainty when she went into the adjoining apartment and found the couch just as it had been the previous evening.
She went back to where young Mrs. Mallard was sitting, and laid her hand gently upon the girl's arm.
"I hope you will be happy with us here, my dear," she said in her sweet, gentle old voice, "for we will do everything to serve you. I have been here for many years and have witnessed the home-coming of many of the brides of the Mallards. There was never one that I took to more than I did to you, my dear child. I felt like taking you in my arms and pressing you to my heart. But you seem lonely. Tell me, is there anything I can do for you?"
Ida lifted her face.
"You are very, very kind," she said, gratefully, "and I thank you with all my heart."