She has brought sunlight into many
wintry homes, and kindled again on hearths long desolate the fires
of loving kindness. There must have been some lack of true
appreciation on the part of her husband, sir. Bitter fountains do
not send forth sweet waters like these. Don't you think so?"
"How should I know?" replied Emerson, a little coldly. The question
was sprung upon him so suddenly that his answer was given in
confusion of thought.
"We all have our opinions, sir," said the man, "and this seems a
plain case. I've heard said that her husband was a hot-headed,
self-willed, ill-regulated young fellow, no more fit to get married
than to be President. That he didn't understand the woman--or,
maybe, I should say child--whom he took for his wife is very
certain, or he never would have treated her in the way he did!"
"How did he treat her?" asked Mr. Emerson.
"As to that," replied his talkative companion, "we don't know
anything certain. But we shall not go far wrong in guessing that it
was neither wise nor considerate. In fact, he must have outraged her
terribly."
"This, I presume, is the common impression about Ivy Cliff?"
"No," said the man; "I've heard him well spoken of.
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