Irish -- United States -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Runaway wives -- Fiction
Again the priest sat silent. He did not attempt to defend his
theory--some better way of calming his visitor must be found. He merely
said, as if entirely convinced by O'Day's denial: “Oh, well, we will let
that go, perhaps you know best”; and then added, his voice softening,
“and now one word more, before we go into the details of our search,
so that no complications may arise in the future. You, of course, are
hunting for Lady Barbara to reinstate her as your wife if--”
O'Day sprang from his chair and stood over the priest. The suggestion
had come as a blow.
“I will take her back!”
The priest looked up in astonishment. “Yes, is it not so?”
The answer came between closed teeth. “I did not expect that of
you, Father Cruse, I thought you were bigger--MUCH bigger. Can't you
understand how a man may want to stand by a woman for herself alone
without dragging in his own selfishness and--No, I forgot--you cannot
understand--you never held a woman in your arms--you do not realize her
many weaknesses, her childishness, her whims, her helplessness. But take
her back? NEVER! That chapter in my life is dosed. My hunt for her all
these months has been to save her from herself and from the scoundrel
who has ruined her. When that is done I shall pick up my life as best I
can, but not with her.”
For some seconds the priest did not speak. Then he said gently, again
avoiding any disagreement. “Let us hope that so happy an ending to
all your sufferings is not far off, my dear Mr. O'Day. And now another
question before we part for the night, one I perhaps ought to have asked
you before. Are you quite positive that Kitty's visitor was your wife?”
He had reserved this hopeful suggestion--one he himself believed in--for
the last. It would help lift the dead weight of bitter anxiety which was
sure to overwhelm his visitor in the wakeful hours of the night.
Felix moved impatiently, like one combating a physician's cheering
words. “It must have been she, who else could have dropped the
sleeve-link?”
“Several people. Excuse me if I talk along different lines, but I have
had a good deal of experience in tracing out just such things as this,
and I have always found it safest to be sure of my facts before deducing
theories. It is not all clear to me that Kitty's woman dropped the
links. And even if she did, the fact is no proof that the woman is your
wife.”
“But the links are mine. There is no question of it--my initials and
arms are cut into them.” The impatience was gone and a certain curiosity
was manifesting itself.
“Quite true, and yet you once thought the links were stolen. So let us
presume for the present that they were stolen and that this woman either
bought them, or was given them, or found them.”
Felix began pacing the floor, a gleam of hope illumining the dark
corners of his heart. The interview, too, had calmed him--as do all
confessions.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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