"I'm awfully sorry, Fred," she whispered, after the lapse of a few moments. "Let's begin again and do better. I do love you, so. Put your arms around me and tell me you'll forgive and forget."
Convinced that it was easier to humor his wife's soft mood than to risk the strain of repulsing her, Frederick slipped his arms around her and held her close.
"There's nothing to forgive, Madie," he muttered. "I've been awful selfish and I'm paying the penalty, that's all. You better let me go and forget me."
Supposing he referred to his approaching death, Madelene cried out sharply, in protest.
"No, no, Fred, you mustn't say such things. You make me feel like a murderess."
She wound her arms tightly around him and kissed him stormily.
"I love you and you love me," she continued. "That's all there is to it. We'll be happy, yet!"
For a few moments, she rested in his embrace, happier than she'd been in many a long day. Then, she disengaged herself and stood up.
"Come, dear," she smiled, "your supper is ready."
After he was seated at the table, she told him of the quarrel between her brother and his wife, of the loss of Elsie and the search then going on.
"Helen's most crazy," she concluded. "She's lying down, now. I gave her a powder and I think she's sleeping."
Frederick toyed with the food before him. He made occasional monosyllabic comments that kept the running fire of his wife's chatter going. Unable to pretend to eat more, he leaned back in his chair.
"I'm not much of an eater," he smiled, "but I've enjoyed your lunch very much."
The sound of steps on the stairs interrupted him.
"Hark, Fred!" his wife exclaimed. "That's Helen, now."
Together they left the dining room and went to the library, where Mrs. Waldstricker had preceded them.
Helen's distraught manner prevented anything like a conventional welcome to her brother-in-law. After Frederick had expressed his sympathy for her anxiety about Elsie and tried to quiet her fears, Madelene carried him off to his room. When she had seen to the details for his comfort, she returned to the library to share Mrs. Waldstricker's vigil.
Frederick found, when he was left alone, that he was in no mood for bed. He was too tired to sleep, too nervous to be quiet anywhere. It seemed to him as though there were some unusual quality in the air, some mysterious whispering to his inner consciousness. He felt vaguely excited. He tried to read but the words conveyed to him no meaning. To an extent never before experienced, possibly because he was again in the Storm Country, he wanted Tess. After a time, he heard the banging of the front door downstairs and confused cries in the hall, but paid little attention to them. In the silence that succeeded, the narrow walls of the bedroom became unbearably close. He'd go downstairs to the library. It might be he'd be able to rest in a chair before the log fire.