joke that when one white-clad woman had returned to her home, wan and
weary, in the small hours of the night, her husband had refused to let
her in, calling to her from an upper window that _his wife_ had gone to
have a fly with the angels, and he did not know who _she_ might be.
Another and coarser version of the same tale was, that he had taken no
notice of her, but had called to his man that the white cow had got
loose and ought to be taken back into the paddock. Both versions were
considered excellent in the telling. Many a worthy Christian, coming out
of his or her place of worship, chuckled over the wit of this amiable
husband, and observed, in the midst of laughter, that his wife, poor
thing, had only got her deserts.

In the earlier hours of that Sunday morning rumour had darted about,
busily telling of the sudden freak the drunkard's violence had taken,
and of Father Cameron's death. Many a version of the story was brought
to the hotel, but through them the truth sifted, and the people there
heard what had really occurred. Eliza heard, for one, and was a good
deal shocked. Still, as the men about the place remarked that it was a
happy release for Father Cameron, who had undoubtedly gone to heaven,
and that it was an advantage, too, to Job's wife, who would now be saved
from further torment at her husband's hands, her mind became
acquiescent. For herself, she had no reason to be sorry the old man was
dead. It was better for him; it was better for her, too. So, without
inward or outward agitation, she directed the morning business of the
house, setting all things in such order that she, the guiding hand of it
all, might that afternoon take holiday.

Some days before she had been invited by Mrs. Rexford to spend this
afternoon with them and take tea. Then, as it was said that Principal
Trenholme, in spite of a sprained ankle, had insisted upon taking the