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I've seed her very often this way before." Mr. Frump's prediction was verified; for his lips had scarcely closed on the words, when Mrs. Frump opened her eyes, and feebly said, "Is it a dream?" "No, Gusty," replied the composed Amos; "it is a husband come back from Californy, with fifty thousand dollars." "It is it is my own 'husband's voice!" cried Mrs.
Frump made her sentences short, to accommodate her breath. As she passed a cool sponge across the patient's brow, she said: "I knew it would be so. He has been here. I saw him round the corner. Looking pale and mad." "You are right, madam. He has been here." Mrs. Frump's pleasant little eyes shone with unnatural anger, and there was a presage of wrathful words in her quivering lips. Mrs.
The old gentleman had considerably revived by this time. "You are right, my dear Gusty," said he, looking fondly at his niece. "You are always right. And you are right, too, sir," he added, turning to Marcus. "Ah, if I had known such a good adviser years ago." Marcus, remembering Mrs. Frump's injunction, made no answer to this remark.
Frump, had fully appreciated the awkwardness of his situation, and had kept a rigid silence since the returned Californian resumed possession of his wife. The minute after Mr. Frump's identity had been established, Matthew could have hugged him with ecstasy. But, having lost the widow, his fickle mind straightway began to discover in her a great many excellencies that he had never seen before.
Frump's friendly suggestion, Matthew had exhausted all his resources of conversation in an effort to interest Miss Trapper. She had listened, and had returned faultlessly proper replies, and had conducted herself so much like all the other young women that Matthew had ever met, that he was puzzled to guess in what respect her singularity consisted.
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