cold white face upon her weary bosom. The thin red
hands went up to her eyes here, and for a few moments she sat still. The
wind tore round the house and made a frantic rush at the front door,
and from his couch of skins in the inner room--Ingomar, the barbarian,
snored peacefully.

"Of course she always found a protector from insult and outrage in the
great courage and strength of her husband?"

"O yes; when Ingomar was with her she feared nothing. But she was
nervous and had been frightened once!"

"How?"

"They had just arrived in California. They kept house then, and had
to sell liquor to traders. Ingomar was hospitable, and drank with
everybody, for the sake of popularity and business, and Ingomar got to
like liquor, and was easily affected by it. And how one night there was
a boisterous crowd in the bar-room; she went in and tried to get him
away, but only succeeded in awakening the coarse gallantry of the
half-crazed revellers. And how, when she had at last got him in the room
with her frightened children, he sank down on the bed in a stupor, which
made her think the liquor was drugged. And how she sat beside him all
night, and near morning heard a step in the passage, and, looking toward
the door, saw the latch slowly moving up and down, as if somebody were
trying it. And how she shook her husband, and tried to waken him, but
without effect. And how at last the door yielded slowly at the top (it
was bolted below), as if by a gradual pressure without; and how a hand
protruded through the opening. And how as quick as lightning she nailed
that hand to the wall with her scissors (her only weapon), but the point
broke, and somebody got away with a fearful oath. How she never told her
husband of it, for fear he would kill that somebody; but how on one day
a stranger called here, and as she was handing him his coffee, she saw a
queer triangular scar on the back of his hand."

She was still talking, and the wind was still blowing, and Ingomar was
still snoring from his couch of skins, when there was a shout high
up the straggling street, and a clattering of hoofs, and rattling of
wheels. The mail had arrived. Parthenia ran with the faded baby to
awaken Ingomar, and almost simultaneously the gallant expressman stood
again before me addressing me by my Christian name, and inviting me
to drink out of a mysterious black bottle. The horses were speedily
watered, and the business of the gallant expressman concluded, and,