"
"Until we know the solemn, certain truth about him I'm for no other man,"
she told him; and her words seemed to give Will a notion.
"'The truth about him': that's an idea," he said.
"It is now a year since he went to fish and vanished off the earth," went
on Jenny. "I've sometimes thought that the people didn't search half so
carefully for the dear chap as what they might."
"I did, I'll swear. I hunted like an otter for the man."
"You never loved my husband," she said, shaking her head, and he granted
it.
"Certainly I never did. Weren't likely I could love the man who was your
husband. But I tried to find Spider, and I'll try again--yes, faith! I'll
try again harder than ever. He's in the river somewheres--what be left of
him. The rames[1] of the man must be in the water round about where he was
fishing."
[1] Rames = Skeleton.
"What's the use of talking cruel things like that?"
"Every use. Why, if I was to find enough to swear by, you could give him
Christian burial," said Will, who knew how to touch her--the cunning
blade. "Think of that--a proper funeral for him and a proper gravestone in
the churchyard. What would you give me if I was to fetch him ashore after
all?"
Jenny White felt exceedingly safe with her promises now. She'd got a
woman's conviction, which be stronger than a man's reason every time, that
Spider was alive and kicking, and had run away for some fantastic jealousy
or other foolishness.
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