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The Major also refrained from seeing the widow, having a wholesome dread as to what effect the contemplation of her charms might have upon his plighted word. He met her at last by chance. Mrs. Riddel bowed coldly and would have passed on, but the Major had already stopped, and was making wild and unmerited statements about the weather. "It is seasonable," she said, simply.
Makes me rather particular about my dress just now. Women notice these things. I'm sha'nt get much sympathy from a confirmed old bachelor like you but I'm on my way to put a very momentous question." "The devil you are!" said the other, blankly. "Sir!" said the astonished Major. "Not Mrs. Riddel?" said Halibut. "Certainly, sir," said the Major, stiffly. "Why not?"
"I think," said his companion at last, "that, if you like, you can get back at cribbage what you lost at chess. That is, of course, if you really want to." "He wouldn't play," said the Major, shaking his head. "No, but I will," said Mrs. Riddel, with a smile. "I think I've got a plan." She blushed charmingly, and then, in modest alarm at her boldness, dropped her voice almost to a whisper.
This belief became confirmed, and was indeed rendered probable, when the direful intelligence reached the village that Jotham Riddel, the miner, was found in his hole, nearly dead with suffocation, and burnt to such a degree that no hopes were entertained of his life.
Why, sir, one is Hiram Doolittle; a carpenter by trade, as you know and I need only point to the village to exhibit his merits. Then he is a magistrate, and might shame many a man, in his distribution of justice, who has had better opportunities. Well, he is one, said Marmaduke, with the air of a man that was determined not to dispute the point. Jotham Riddel is another. Who?
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