Married people -- Fiction; Mothers-in-law -- Fiction
"I shall be back in six weeks. Good-bye, mother. Give my love to
Christina and Jamie, I will not trouble them now."
"They are full o' their ain to-do at the present. I'll gie them your
message. Good-bye, and see you are home, ere I send after you."
He went hastily downstairs, and could hardly believe he was walking
through Traquair House. Pretty girls in dancing dresses were constantly
passing him, young men were standing about in groups laughing and
talking, and there was the sound of fiddles tuning up in the distance.
It was all so unnatural that it affected him like the phantasmal
background of a dream. And he was suffering as he had never before
suffered in all his life, for jealousy, that brutal, overwhelming
passion, had seized him, and he was in a fire constantly growing
fiercer. Every thought he now had of Theodora fed it, and he hastened to
his club and locked himself in his room. It was clear to him, that he
must reach San Francisco by the swiftest means possible. In his
condition, he felt delay might mean severe illness, if not insanity.
On the third morning after this determination, when he awoke he was out
of sight of land. The wind was high, and the sea rough, but he was not
sick, and the tumult of the elements suited his mood very well. He made
no friends, and his trouble had such a strong personality, that many
divined its reason.
"He looks as if he was after a runaway wife," said one man, and his
companion answered: "I do not envy the fellow who has run away with her,
he will get no mercy from yonder husband, and as for the wife!"
"God help her!"
"It is Campbell of the Campbell Iron Works near Glasgow," said a third.
"I never heard that he had a wife. I shouldn't think he would care for
one. He lives only for those black, blasted furnaces. He is happy enough
among their slag and cinders, and smoke and flame. The country round
them is like Gehenna, but it suits him better than green pastures and
still waters. He isn't such a big man physically, but when he is
marching round among his workers, ordering this, and abusing that, you
would think he was ten feet high, and the men are sure of it. But
Campbell isn't a bad fellow take him by and long; he goes to Kirk
regular, and when he feels like giving, gives with both hands."
"We might ask him to join us in a game of whist."
"Nay, we had better let him alone. I think some American has maybe
stolen one o' his patents, or got ahead o' him in some way or other; and
he is going to have it out with him face to face--that would be like
Robert Campbell. He is in a fighting mood anyway, and he wouldn't help
our pleasure; far from it."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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