But to the eye of sense, nothing seemed more unlikely, as Richard staggered home late that night in his usual drunken condition, and rose the next morning in the worst of tempers, following her footsteps from place to place, with the evident purpose of provoking her with his cruel taunts, until she should retaliate. Clothed in the armour of God, Margaret, however, withstood all the fiery darts that were flung around her during that eventful day. As the winter afternoon waned, she observed, with uneasiness, that Richard made no attempt to change the working clothes in which he had lounged about all day, for the better suit and the clean shirt, which she had managed by dint of self-denial should never be wanting. "I'm pretty sure he'll make that his excuse for not going to the Hall to-night; but there, the Lord isn't confined to that place, and He can just as well save Richard in his dirty shirt at home, if He thinks best, as up there; and He's going to do it, sure enough; for didn't He tell me the angels should rejoice over him?" she said to herself. She ventured, however, a quiet remonstrance, saying: "Your Sunday things are laid out, Richard, and you'd better get a wash; you'll feel fresher." But the only answer she received was a curt: "Mind your own business, woman." Meanwhile, Richard himself was feeling his own misery more deeply than he would have confessed to a living soul. "I'd like to escape from it all; but I've gone too far; I've had my chances, if ever a man had, and I'd like to know what good'll come of my goin' to the Hall and seein' all those folks again; it'll only make me more miserable than I am. I wish I hadn't promised, and I've half a mind to turn into the 'Blue Boar' instead," muttered the man to himself. "Richard," said his wife as she put on bonnet and shawl, and picked up her Bible and hymn-book, after tea was over; "I'm going up to the chapel, but the sermon will be over in plenty of time for me to get back to the Mission-place. You'll be sure to be dressed and ready waiting for me." "I shan't promise nothin'," growled Richard; but although Margaret heard the words as she went out, she left the house with a light heart. Altogether uncertain of his own intention, Richard strode about the room, his pipe in his mouth, and his hands in his pockets. "Anyhow," he said, "I may as well have a look at the water," and going to the sink he washed himself for the first time that day. And then he sat down, making no further attempt to prepare himself for his wife's return. "She never lets a feller have any peace," he said, inwardly blaming her for his mental unrest. He was sitting in his chair, still smoking, when Margaret returned. "O, Richard, you are not ready, and we shall be late!" she said. "I never told you I was goin'," he answered, scowling at her.