102 THE DEAD MAN*S WIFE. 



had just transpired ; but no one took the trouble 

 no one appeared to care. At length she caught 

 sight of me, and, with a playful but meaning wave 

 of her handkerchief, beckoned me towards her. All 

 eyes at once were upon us, so when I approached 

 my first words were to beg she would take my 

 arm, and come into the open air. Without de- 

 murral she did so ; but my courage had fled, and 

 quite fifteen minutes elapsed before I had reco- 

 vered sufficient resolution to impart what I wished 

 to say. The weather, the ship, the passengers, 

 were each touched upon. At length, after sundry 

 stammers, I commenced on the subject that had 

 induced me to bring her out-doors. 



c " You must not be alarmed," I said ; ( but 

 something has happened that you should be in- 

 formed of. No person appears inclined to tell you, 

 so it devolves upon me. It is a very painful 

 duty, but 



' " I cannot imagine what you are driving at ! 

 What a staid, phlegmatic, cold, indifferent man ! 

 Are you going to propose an elopement to miss 

 the ship to return to San Francisco ? Go on, I 

 say ; come to the point ; and do not keep me longer 

 in suspense." 



' With such a warning, what could I do ? At 

 last I did what probably would have been best from 

 the first, viz. telling her in plain words that her 

 husband was dead. 



'With a most determined and stern look one 



