“Probably, but in pinning it to the cushion, it was the obituary notice that chanced to come uppermost. Oh, why should I not have remembered this till now! Can you understand my forgetting a matter of so much importance?”
“Yes,” I allowed, after a momentary consideration of her ingenuous countenance. “The words you read in the morning were so startling that they disconnected themselves from those you had carelessly glanced at the night before.”
“That is it,” she replied; “and since then I have had eyes for the one side only. How could I think of the other? But who could have printed this thing and who was the man who put it into my hand? He looked like a beggar but—Oh!” she suddenly exclaimed, her cheeks flushing scarlet and her eyes flashing with a feverish, almost alarming, glitter.
“What is it now?” I asked. “Another recollection?”
“Yes.” She spoke so low I could hardly hear her. “He coughed and——”
“And what?” I encouragingly suggested, seeing that she was under some new and overwhelming emotion.
“That cough had a familiar sound, now that I think of it. It was like that of a friend who—But no, no; I will not wrong him by any false surmises. He would stoop to much, but not to that; yet——”
The flush on her cheeks had died away, but the two vivid spots which remained showed the depth of her excitement.
“Do you think,” she suddenly asked, “that a man out of revenge might plan to frighten me by a false notice of my husband’s death, and that God to punish him, made the notice a prophecy?”
“I think a man influenced by the spirit of revenge might do almost anything,” I answered, purposely ignoring the latter part of her question.