"As kindly, I think, as he could wish."
"I am glad to hear it, for his sake. You and I are the friends of both parties: we can rejoice with each other."
He drew his chair much nearer hers, and took her hand. One moment the widow resisted, but it was a magnetic touch, the rosy palm lay quietly in his, and the dark beard bent so low that it nearly touched her shoulder. It did not matter much. Was he not Samuel's dear friend? If he was not the rose, had he not dwelt very near it, for a long, long time?
"It was a foolish quarrel that parted them," said the stranger, softly.
"Did he tell you about it?"
"Yes, on board the whaler."
"Did he blame her much?"
"Not so much as himself. He said that his jealousy and ill-temper drove her to break off the match; but he thought sometimes if he had only gone back and spoken kindly to her, she would have married him after all."
"I am sure she would," said the widow piteously. "She has owned it to me more than a thousand times."
"She was not happy, then, with another."