Gracey made shift to tell me she was so proud to hear I was doing well;that Aileen's eyes had been twice as bright lately; that mother looked better than she'd seen her this years; and if I could get away to any other country she'd meet me in Melbourne, and would be, as she'd always been, `your own Gracey' -- that's the way it was signed.
When I read this I felt a different man.I stood up and took an oath -- solemn, mind you, and I intended to keep it -- that if I got clear away I'd pay her for her love and true heart with my life, what was left of it, and I'd never do another crooked thing as long as I lived.
Then I began to count the days to Christmas.
I wasn't married like Jim, and it not being very lively in the tent at night, Arizona Bill and I mostly used to stroll up to the Prospectors' Arms.
We'd got used to sitting at the little table, drinking our beer or what not, smoking our pipes and listening to all the fun that was going on.
Not that we always sat in the big hall.There was a snug little parlour beside the bar that we found more comfortable, and Kate used to run in herself when business was slack enough to leave the barmaid; then she'd sit down and have a good solid yarn with us.
She made a regular old friend of me, and, as she was a handsome woman, always well dressed, with lots to say and plenty of admirers, I wasn't above being singled out and made much of.It was partly policy, of course.She knew our secret, and it wouldn't have done to have let her let it out or be bad friends, so that we should be always going in dread of it.So Jim and I were always mighty civil to her, and I really thought she'd improved a lot lately and turned out a much nicer woman than I thought she could be.
We used to talk away about old times, regular confidential, and though she'd great spirits generally, she used to change quite sudden sometimes and say she was a miserable woman, and wished she hadn't been in such a hurry and married as she had.
Then she'd crack up Jeanie, and say how true and constant she'd been, and how she was rewarded for it by marrying the only man she ever loved.
She used to blame her temper; she'd always had it, she said, and couldn't get rid of it; but she really believed, if things had turned out different, she'd have been a different woman, and any man she really loved would never have had no call to complain.
Of course I knew what all this meant, but thought I could steer clear of coming to grief over it.
That was where I made the mistake.But I didn't think so then, or how much hung upon careless words and looks.
Well, somehow or other she wormed it out of me that we were off somewhere at Christmas.Then she never rested till she'd found out that we were going to Melbourne.After that she seemed as if she'd changed right away into somebody else.She was that fair and soft-speaking and humble-minded that Jeanie couldn't have been more gentle in her ways;and she used to look at me from time to time as if her heart was breaking.
I didn't believe that, for I didn't think she'd any heart to break.
One night, after we'd left about twelve o'clock, just as the house shut up, Arizona Bill says to me --`Say, pard, have yer fixed it up to take that young woman along when you pull up stakes?'
`No,' I said; `isn't she a married woman? and, besides, I haven't such a fancy for her as all that comes to.'