“But you a’n’t her husband,” replied the carpenter.  “Amos told me that she did show a leetle temper now and then.  However, he allers said she was a pooty good gal in the main.  Well, one day, when her dander was up about somethin’, she told him that she b’lieved he married her for her money, and she’d die before he should have a cent.  Amos was a proud feller, if he was poor; and, when he heerd this, he left the house right off, walked to New York, and shipped as a sailor to San Francisco.  I met him when he fust come to the mines, and, as he was a spry, tough chap, I let him work a claim with me on shares.  We ate and slept together, and many a time, in the dark night, has he spoke to me about his wife, and how much he thought of her; but he said he never should go back till he had money enough to buy out her and her hull family.  We was very unlucky, and Amos got downhearted, and took to drink.  By and by he moved off to another claim, and worked on his own hook.  He did better there; but all the gold he dug out he used to spend in gamblin’ and rum; and at last a drunken quarrel put an end to Amos Frump.”

“Poor fellow!” said Matthew.  “And do you think the widow ever grieved for him?”

“No, I guess not; for Amos allers said that she was not a very lovin’, affectionate woman; though, if he had been as rich as her, or if her family had let her alone, she would have made him a tol’able wife.”

“Not loving!  Not affectionate!” thought Matthew.  “And I am about to marry her!” A cold shudder crept over him.

Hiding his emotions with an effort, he again interrogated the affable carpenter: 

“And do you really think that Mr. Frump would have returned, and lived again with his wife, if he had become rich?”

“To be sure he would.  He couldn’t marry anybody else, yer know, without committin’ bigamy.  He allers said he didn’t care much whether his wife loved him, so long as she treated him civilly.”

“Mr. Frump had practical views of married life,” suggested Matthew.

“Amos was sensible in some things,” said the carpenter.  “But he was a queer feller, too.  He allers had a notion of comin’ home kind o’ disguised, so that his wife shouldn’t know him.  I used to tell him that a few more years in Californy would make him so thin, yaller, and grizzly, that he wouldn’t need no disguise.”

CHAPTER VI.

REVELATIONS OF A LAUGH.

The carpenter here burst out with an extraordinary peal of laughter.  It was so very peculiar, that, once heard, it would always be identified with the person making it.  This singular laugh consisted of a brilliant stacatto passage on a high key, interrupted by occasional snorts, and terminating with a slur which covered the whole descending octave.  It was also very loud and very long.

It had the effect of bringing Mrs. Frump to the door.  She thrust out her head, unseen by either the carpenter or Matthew, and looked at the former with a wondering air.