talking about the "scandle" for some time. And I sat and thought of the
beech being searched for my Body, a thought which filled my Eyes with
tears of pity for what might have been, I still hoped Mrs. Beecher would
go to bed, but she did not. Through the key hole I could see her with a
Book, reading, and not caring at all that Mr. Beecher's body, and mine
to, might be washing about in the cruel Sea, or have eloped to New York.

I lothed her.

At last I must have slept, for a bell rang, and there I was still in the
closet, and she was ansering it.

"Arrested?" she said, "Well, I should think he'd better be, If what you
say about clothing is true.... Well, then--what's he arrested for?...
Oh, kidnaping! Well, if I'm any judge, they ought to arrest the
Archibald girl for kidnaping HIM. No, don't bother me with it tonight.
I'll try to read myself to sleep."

So this was Marriage! Did she flee to her unjustly acused husband's side
and comfort him? Not she. She went to bed.

At daylight, being about smotherd, I opened the closet door and drew a
breath of fresh air. Also I looked at her, and she was asleep, with her
hair in patent wavers. Ye gods!

The wife of Reginald Beecher thus to distort her looks at night! I could
not bare it.

I averted my eyes, and on my tiptoes made for the Window.