“I guess she couldn’t stand the bondage of marriage,” said Mary Winkle. “When she first came she was all for being absorbed in her husband, she would be Mrs. Weston forsooth, she wanted to sink her individuality. She has naturally found out her mistake. I respect her and sympathize with her in her efforts to shake off the trammels of custom and make a dash for freedom. I dare say we shall soon have her coming back again, having resumed her own name, and perhaps ready to lecture on the absurdity of women giving up their names on marriage, as if they ceased to exist. Marriage under these circumstances becomes a sort of death to a woman. It is extinction.” “’Tain’t no such thing, Sister Mary,” said Uncle David. “It is an honourable distinction our forefathers have used, findin’ the same handy and convenient. I don’t believe little Ollie has gone a-lecterin’, she ain’t that sort o’ gal. I guess she’s jes’ tired an’ lonesome feelin’, an’ thought she’d ride out an’ meet Ezry comin’ home.” “She hasn’t done that, Uncle, for I’ve seen a man from over Jacksonville way, and he told me she had been seen the other side of Big Cotton Wood Creek, and that she was asking for news of Cotterell,” said Brother Wright. “Then she has gone to him,” said Madame with decision. “She hain’t neither,” contradicted Uncle David, “you hain’t got no business to tell wicked stories like that.” “She has been carrying on a secret acquaintance with him all the summer. I know that, for I surprised them together at the spring some weeks ago.” “She didn’t do nothin’ that was dishonest an’ secret,” said Uncle David anxiously. “I ain’t agoin’ ter believe anything ’gin little Ollie. She’s a good little gal.” He wiped his forehead nervously with his large bony hand, and then took out his red handkerchief and passed it several times across his face. “The power of love is strong,” said Madame, looking at him with compassion. “Yes, yes,” he replied quickly, “jes’ what I say, an’ she did love her husban’, an’ hain’t done nothin’ wrong.” “She didn’t love him,” burst out Madame with excitement. “It often filled me with anger to see how she took all his love and made no return. Everyone saw it.” “I guess the rest of us didn’t pay so much attention to them and their affairs. We had our own,” said Mary Winkle, at which Madame winced. “You don’t know what her feelin’s was. She loved Ezry, else she wouldn’t ha’ married him an’ followed him way out here on this lonesome prairie. I ain’t never goin’ to believe wrong o’ little Ollie.” Uncle David’s big chest heaved with a sob that would burst out. Madame placed her hand gently upon his. “The falling of one’s idol has always been a grievous sorrow, and has bruised many a loving heart.”