"Yes, as you say wisely, some is flint," says the widow; "but then some is n't!" And she dropped her eyes, and gave his hand a confiding little squeeze. And then she says that, once married, diworce is n't got for the asking,—"you are tied for good and all." And then she says, that brings her to the p'int.
"To be dethroned was bad enough," says she; "and then to see my royal dowery conwerted into whiskey, which it was dewoured by him, the same being took continual; but what was most intolerable of all was that he walked into his sleep! I tried every way to contrawene the wile habit that could be inwented. I coaxed and I scolded, and I got up late, and I give him hot winegar with a little whiskey into it,—he would swaller anything that had a drop of whiskey into it,—and I prewailed on him to sing psalms, and, that failing, I prewailed onto him to inwest into a wiolin and play onto that till late into the midnight, thinking by that means his witality would be exhausted, and he would lie into his bed like any other man; but lo and behold! he inwested into the wiolin a-Monday, and a-Monday night he played till along towards ten o'clock, and I got clean wore out, and, says I, 'Do leave off playing onto that wiolin,' says I, 'for my head aches like all possess'; and with that he up and went to bed, and after a while I hears something fingering the latch, and I riz onto my elbow, and says, in a whisper, 'Dan'l, there 's a man a-trying to break in, as sure as you 're alive!' He did n't answer, and thinks says I, the wiolin has done it, and he is a-sleeping with a wengeance, and then I feels along, and says I, 'Dan'l, Dan'l!' but still no answer; then I felt for the piller, and there was no head onto it, and I scraped a match, and it went out, and I scraped another, and it went out, and I scraped another, and a leetle blue flame just started and flickered, and before I could see what it was a-fumbling at the door, it went out. Thinks says I, I 'll make sure work now; and I took two of the nasty things into my hand and scraped so hard I crushed them all up together, and they flashed out and seared my finger-ends and burnt a hole into my nightgownd-sleeve, and, seeing I was like to burn up, I slapped my arm with all my might, and at last I slapped the flame down, and at last, by persewerance, I slapped it out; and yet I had n't seen a thing, but I could feel the hole into my nightgownd-sleeve, and my arm all burnt into a light blister. 'Dan'l!' says I again; but Dan'l did n't answer, and then I was full sure it was him, and I scraped with a steadier hand, and the match—it was one of them nasty lucifers, may be you know—"
"Yes, I 've heerd tell on 'em," says John.
And the wretched woman went on: "It was one of them nasty lucifers, and it choked me so I could not find the candle; and though I could just see a ghostly object at the door, I could not tell at all whether it was Dan'l or not, for he never looked like himself when he walked into his sleep; and the match—they are nothing but splinters, you know—was burning closer and closer to my fingers, and I just dabs it wiolently into the washbowl, and puts it out. And then says I, 'Dan'l! Dan'l!' again; and this time he answers, and says he, 'You wixen,' says he, 'shut up your mouth!'
"There was no mistaking that, and all in the dark I wentered after him, and grabbed and ketched him by the end of his neck-tie, and hild with all my might; and at that he began to wociferate at the top of his woice, and, thinks says I, better than rouse all the neighbors and have them broke o' their rest, I 'll just let him go and walk into his sleep till he 's satisfied. I took the key out of the door, and then I tried to find my way back, for, thinks says I, I 'll retire and take my rest anyhow, and, if you believe it, I was so turned round I could n't find the piller! So I went feeling here and there, and every minute I come back to him, and every time I touched him he wociferated at the top of his woice; and then I 'd say, 'Dan'l, it was n't woluntary!' and then I 'd feel and feel by the chairs and the wall, and by one thing and another, as a body will when they can't see, and the first thing I 'd know I 'd be right back to him agin. My blistered arm, meantime, was a-burning like fire, but, thinks says I, it 's no use, I can 't find the water-pitcher, I 'm so turned round; and I just sot down where I was, and there I sot till daylight, blowing all my breath away onto my arm, and the minute I could see I made for the pitcher; but, happening to take it by the snout instead of the handle, away it went, and spilt all the water, and broke the pitcher past all mending,—and a fine pitcher, too!—one that my own father give me in cholera times, when his business was at the best."
"I declare," says John Chidlaw, "it 's enough to make a body's blood run cold!" And then he says he does n't wonder she 's agin matrimony!
Now the widow had said nothing of the sort, and stoutly protested that she had not, but that, on the contrary, she thought it an adwantage to any woman to be married, prowided she could find an indiwidual that had a warm heart toward her; to which John replied that she had found such a one; and she answered, "How you do go on!" and resumed her story.
"Well, a-Tuesday night he took to the wiolin again, and played and played and played and played all the old dancing tunes in creation, and I sot by and never said a word till 'leven o'clock come, and then till twelve o'clock come, and then till one o'clock come, and then till two o'clock come, and at last, thinks says I, my brain will go wild, and says I, 'Dan'l, I ain't a bit sleepy, but I do feel some as if I could go to sleep if you 'd just keep on a-playing; I 've got kind o' used to it, and I don't believe I can go to sleep without it.' With this he flung the wiolin into the cradle,—my father had presented me with a cradle that he had made out of some boards that had been used once and rejected on account of knots, but just as good, you know,—and then he flounced into bed, and he never walked into his sleep that night!"
"You cunnin' little thing!" cries John, overcome with her smartness, and hugging her close. "Who but you would ever 'a' thought on 't? Such a sleek deception!"
"Well, a-Wednesday night he would n't touch his wiolin, and that night, or rather along towards morning, he walked into his sleep, and a-Thursday night he would n't play a stroke agin; in wain I put the wiolin into his sight; and that night he just dewoted himself to walking,—making himself wisible to the neighbors, even. So thinks says I, this won't do; and a-Friday night, says I, I says to him, says I, 'I hate the old wiolin,' says I; 'and I 've a good notion to burn it up!'