He had taken
his trunk with him, and hadn't left any address; but in my travelling-bag
I found a fifty-dollar bill, with a slip of paper on which he had written,
'No use coming after me; I'm married.' We'd been together less than four
months, and I never saw him again.
"At first I couldn't believe it. I stayed on, thinking it was a joke--or
that he'd feel sorry for me and come back. But he never came and never
wrote me a line. Then I began to hate him, and to see what a wicked fool
I'd been to leave Joe. I was so lonesome--I thought I'd go crazy. And I
kept thinking how good and patient Joe had been, and how badly I'd used
him, and how lovely it would be to be back in the little parlor at
Hinksville, even with Mrs. Glenn and the minister talking about free-will
and predestination. So at last I wrote to Joe. I wrote him the humblest
letters you ever read, one after another; but I never got any answer.
"Finally I found I'd spent all my money, so I sold my watch and my rings--
Joe gave me a lovely turquoise ring when we were married--and came to New
York. I felt ashamed to stay alone any longer in Albany; I was afraid that
some of Arthur's friends, who had met me with him on the road, might come
there and recognize me. After I got here I wrote to Susy Price, a great
friend of mine who lives at Hinksville, and she answered at once, and told
me just what I had expected--that Joe was ready to forgive me and crazy to
have me back, but that his mother wouldn't let him stir a step or write me
a line, and that she and the minister were at him all day long, telling
him how bad I was and what a sin it would be to forgive me.
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