"I thought the man was pleased because she had commenced the conversation so readily; for he appeared to be in good humor, as though she were saying exactly what he had desired she should to impress me.
"'When they told me he was contented in his new home,' she continued, 'I was satisfied, and I want him to know it. He had life, and vigor, and energy, and no one ever blamed him but Tom and me. This letter says so; I want you to take it to him. When I discovered that he disliked me, and would always neglect me, it was a cruel blow, though he was not to blame for it, for other men have honestly repented of their fancies. I could not think of him as a bad man for no other reason than that he was dissatisfied with me; for all the people were his friends, and he must have deserved their friendship. I suppose a man may form a dislike for his wife as naturally as he forms a dislike for anything else—I have reason to know that they can—and not commit a graver offence than one who happens to dislike any other trifle which displeases him. I would have told him this myself had he not kept out of my way so long; it is all written in this letter, and my name is signed to it. I commission you to give it to him.'
"She took from her bosom and handed me a crumpled piece of paper, on which nothing was written, but I carefully put it in my pocket, to humor her strange whim.
"'I am satisfied now, since I have heard that he is contented, and if Tom is willing we will never refer to the matter again. He is a good man; even Tom says that between his curses, and why not let him alone? Tell him that Alice gave you the letter with her own hands, and that she will not live long to annoy him. Tell him that Alice rejoices to know that he is contented; for Tom has told me all about it, and since my sickness it has been a pleasure for me to think that a worthy man—and he is a worthy man; for no one can say aught against him except that he could not admire me, which does not seem to be a very grave offence, for no one else admires me—has found what his ability and industry entitles him to,—peace. Peace! How he must enjoy it! How long he has sought it! I can understand the relish with which he enjoys it.'
"The Wolf was not pleased with this sort of talk; it was not crazy enough to suit him, and he looked at her with anger and indignation in his ugly face.
"'I never said it before, Tom,' she continued, evidently frightened at his wicked look, 'but I must say it now, for I cannot remember the hate you tried to teach me; I can only remember that a man capable of loving and being loved buried himself with a woman he could not tolerate, all from a sense of duty, and looked out at the merry world only to covet it. I have forgotten the selfishness which occupies every human heart; it was driven out of my nature with hope and ambition, and I am only just when I say that he deserved pity as well as I. He was capable of something better than such a life; and was worthy of it. I might have been worthy; but I was not capable, and was it right to sacrifice him because I crept while he ran? Do we not praise men for remedying their mistakes? You know we do, and I only praise him for it; nothing more. The truth should always be written on a tomb; this house is like a tomb, it is so cold and damp, and I must tell the truth here. I am cold; why don't you build a fire?'
"She put her hand into the flame of the candle she carried, to warm it, but it did not burn, very much to my surprise; and she looked at me with quiet assurance while she warmed her hands in this odd manner. As I watched her I noticed that the wild look which marked her face when she first appeared was returning; her craze came back to her, and she put it on with a shiver.
"'Your feet are resting on a grave,' she said to me again, after staring around the room awhile, and as coolly as she might have called my attention to muddy boots. 'Please take them off. It may be his grave. I have brought flowers to decorate it; an armful. Stand aside, sir.'
"I did as she told me, and, advancing toward where I sat, she pretended to throw something on nothing out of her empty hands.
"'I came across a grave in the lower hall this morning, Tom,' she said to The Wolf, pausing; and she said it with so much indifference that I thought she must have meant a moth. 'Of course they would not be together: I have never expected that. The grave in the hall was shorter than this one, and it was neglected. But this one,—this shows care. And look, Tom! The flowers I threw upon it are gone already!'