‘You say they quarrelled frequently,’ he said. ‘Were their disputes of a violent character?’
‘I have heard her violent, but never him. She was very fond of him, poor thing; though she wasn’t a woman to give way or to be guided by a husband. She was fonder of drink than she ought to be, and he tried to keep her from it—leastways, when they first came to my house. Later he seemed to have give her up, as you may say, and let her go her own way.’
‘Did he seem attached to her?’
‘Not to my fancy. I thought the love was all on her side.’
‘Was he a man of violent temper?’
‘No; he was one that took things very quiet. I used to think there was something underhand in his character. I can call to mind her saying to me once, after they had been quarrelling, “Mrs. Evitt, that man hates me too much to strike me. If he was once to give way to his temper he’d be the death of me.” Those words of hers made an impression upon me at the time——’
‘Come, come,’ interrupted the Coroner, ‘we can’t hear anything about your impressions. This isn’t evidence!’ but Mrs. Evitt’s slow speech flowed onward like a tranquil stream meandering through a valley.
‘“I’d rather have a low brute that beat me black and blue,” she said to me another time, poor dear thing, “if he was sorry for it afterwards, than a cold-hearted gentleman that can sting me to death with a word.”’
‘I want to hear facts, not assertions,’ said the Coroner, impatiently. ‘Did you ever know the husband of the deceased to be guilty of any act of violence, either towards his wife or any one else?’
‘Never.’