The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 18, No. 105, July 1866: A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and PoliticsVarious
General
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 18, No. 105, July 1866: A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
And this time it was the woman who menaced the man. She rose to six
feet high, and advanced on him with her great gray eyes flashing flames
at him. "O that I were a man!" she cried: "this insult should be the
last. I'd lay you dead at her feet and mine."
Griffith actually drew back a step; for the wrath of such a woman was
terrible,--more terrible perhaps to a brave man than to a coward.
Then he put his hands in his pockets with a dogged air, and said,
grinding his teeth, "But--as you are not a man, and I'm not a woman, we
can't settle it that way. So I give you the last word, and good day. I'm
sore in want of money; but I find I can't pay the price it is like to
cost me. Farewell."
"Begone!" said Mrs. Gaunt: "and, this time, forever. Ruffian, and fool,
I loathe the sight of you."
Rose ran weeping to her. "O mamma, don't quarrel with papa": then back
to Griffith, "O papa, don't quarrel with mamma,--for my sake."
Griffith hung his head, and said, in a broken voice: "No, my lamb, we
twain must not quarrel before thee. We will part in silence, as becomes
those that once were dear, and have thee to show for 't. Madam, I wish
you all health and happiness. Adieu."
He turned on his heel; and Mrs. Gaunt took Rose to her knees, and bent
and wept over her. Niobe over her last was not more graceful, nor more
sad.
As for Ryder, she stole quietly after her retiring master. She found him
peering about, and asked him demurely what he was looking for.
"My good black horse, girl, to take me from this cursed place. Did I not
tie him to yon gate?"
"The black horse? Why I sent him for Father Francis. Nay, listen to me,
master; you know I was always your friend, and hard upon _her_. Well,
since you went, things have come to pass that make me doubt. I do begin
to fear you were too hasty."
"Do you tell me this now, woman?" cried Griffith, furiously.
"How could I tell you before? Why did you break your tryst with me? If
you had come according to your letter, I'd have told you months ago what
I tell you now; but, as I was saying, the priest never came near her
after you left; and she never stirred abroad to meet him. More than
that, he has left England."
"Remorse! Too late."
"Perhaps it may, sir. I couldn't say; but there is one coming that knows
the very truth."
"Who is that?"
"Father Francis. The moment you came, sir, I took it on me to send for
him. You know the man: he won't tell a lie to please our dame. And he
knows all; for Leonard has confessed to him. I listened, and heard him
say as much. Then, master, be advised, and get the truth from Father
Francis."
Griffith trembled. "Francis is an honest man," said he; "I'll wait till
he comes. But O, my lass, I find money may be bought too dear."
"Your chamber is ready, sir, and your clothes put out. Supper is
ordered. Let me show you your room. We are all so happy now."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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