“He did go to California,” answered my foolish mother, “and I suppose that Miss Davis went with him; but I blame her more than him: for I’m sure she led him astray, or he would not have gone with her. However, I’ll not say much against her: for I hear she is dead now, poor thing!”
“Knowing that she has deserted you twice, what leads you to think that he will again return to you?”
“Because I know that he loves me! He was always so kind and affectionate. The woman, who led him astray, is no longer alive to misguide him; and I know he will comeback to me.”
“My poor deceived, trusting, foolish mother!”
I only muttered the words—she did not hear them.
“Besides,” continued she, “gold is now being found here in Australia. Many of the miners are coming home again. I’m sure he will be among them. It is true, he is a little wild for his years; but he will not always be so. He will return to his wife; and we shall be once more happy.”
“Mother! Am I to understand that you refuse to accompany me to England?”
“Rowland, my son,” said she, in a reproachful tone, “how can you ask me to go away from here, when I tell you that I am every day expecting my husband to return? Wait awhile, till he comes; and then we will all go together.”
Certainly to have said anything more to her on the subject would have been folly. It would be no use in trying to reason with her, after that proposal. The idea of my going aboard of a ship, on a long voyage, accompanied by Mr Leary—even supposing the man to have been in the land of the living—was too incongruous to be entertained and at the same time preserve tranquillity of spirit.
I was tempted to tell her, that Mr Leary had met the reward of his long career of crime—or, at least, a part of it—but, when I reflected on her extreme delusions concerning the man, I feared that such a communication might be dangerous to her mind.