American fiction -- 19th century; California -- Fiction; Western stories
The rascal had been enjoying with intense satisfaction the return of
the dull glow in Collinson's face, that even seemed to animate the
whole length of his angular frame as it turned eagerly towards him. So
he went on, experiencing a devilish zest in this description of his
mistress to her husband, apart from the pleasure of noting the slow
awakening of this apathetic giant, with a sensation akin to having
warmed him into life. Yet his triumph was of short duration. The fire
dropped suddenly out of Collinson's eyes, the glow from his face, and
the dull look of unwearied patience returned.
"That's all very kind and purty of yer, Mr. Chivers," he said gravely;
"you've got all my wife's pints thar to a dot, and it seems to fit her
jest like a shoe I picked up t'other day. But it wasn't my Sadie, for
ef she's living or had lived, she'd bin just yere!"
The same fear and recognition of some unknown reserve in this trustful
man came over Chivers as before. In his angry resentment of it he
would have liked to blurt out the infidelity of the wife before her
husband, but he knew Collinson would not believe him, and he had
another purpose now. His full lips twisted into a suave smile.
"While I would not give you false hopes, Mr. Collinson," he said, with
a bland smile, "my interest in you compels me to say that you may be
over confident and wrong. There are a thousand things that may have
prevented your wife from coming to you,--illness, possibly the result
of her exposure, poverty, misapprehension of your place of meeting,
and, above all, perhaps some false report of your own death. Has it
ever occurred to you that it is as possible for her to have been
deceived in that way as for you?"
"Wot yer say?" said Collinson, with a vague suspicion.
"What I mean. You think yourself justified in believing your wife
dead, because she did not seek you here; may she not feel herself
equally justified in believing the same of you, because you had not
sought her elsewhere?"
"But it was writ that she was comin' yere, and--I boarded every train
that come in that fall," said Collinson, with a new irritation, unlike
his usual calm.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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