Suddenly I remembered his
wife, certainly very sick in the house, and the talk that she was
"struck with death"--and he out shooting geese, and now gallivanting
around with a strange girl in the dark.
There must be some mistake--this man with the bold eyes and the warm
and friendly handclasp, with the fascinating manners and the neighborly
ideas, could not possibly be a person who would do such things. But even
as I thought this, and made up my mind that, after all, I would join him
and the queer-behaving doctor in a friendly drink, a woman came flying
out of the house and across the road, calling out, asking if any one
knew where Mr. Gowdy was, that his wife was dying.
He and the girl came to the fire quickly, and as they came into view I
saw a movement of his arm as if he was taking it from around her waist.
"I'm here," said he--and his voice sounded harder, somehow. "What's the
matter?"
"Your wife," said the woman, "--she's taken very bad, Mr. Gowdy."
He started toward the house without a word; but before he went out of
sight he turned and looked for a moment with a sort of half-smile at the
girl. For a while we were all as still as death. Finally Doctor Bliven
remarked that lots of folks were foolish about sick people, and that
more patients were scared to death by those about them than died of
disease. The girl said that that certainly was so. Doctor Bliven then
volunteered the assertion that Mr. Gowdy seemed to be a fine fellow, and
a gentleman if he ever saw one.
Pages:
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143