"Before a month was gone I had married him," the low, tired voice went
on. "It was a gay wedding; and my father was very happy, for he thought I
had got the desire of a woman's life--a home of her own. For a time all
went well. Dennis was gay and careless and wilful, but he was easy to
live with, too, except when he came back from the town where he sold his
horses. Then he was different, because of the drink, and he was
quarrelsome with me--and cruel, too.
"At last when he came home with the drink upon him, he would sleep on the
floor and not beside me. This wore upon my heart. I thought that if I
could only put my hand on his shoulder and whisper in his ear, he would
get better of his bad feeling; but he was sulky, and he would not bear
with me. Though I never loved him as I loved my Boy, still I tried to be
a good wife to him, and never turned my eyes to any other man."
Suddenly she stopped as though the pain of speaking was too great. Madame
Bulteel murmured something, but the only word that reached the ears of
the others was the Arabic word 'mafish'. Her pale face was suffused as
she said it.
Two or three times the woman essayed to speak again, but could not. At
last, however, she overcame her emotion and said: "So it was when M'sieu'
Felix Marchand came up from the Sagalac.
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