All this mourning that people have is utter nonsense."
I was amazed at the turn his conversation had taken and sat quite
still, not knowing just what to say or to do.
After awhile, he looked at me steadily, and said, very
deferentially, "Madame, the spirit of my dead wife is looking at
me from out your eyes."
By this time I realized that the man was a maniac, and I had
always heard that one must agree with crazy people, so I nodded,
and that seemed to satisfy him, and bye and bye after some
minutes which seemed like hours to me, he went off to the smoking
room.
The tension was broken and I appealed to a very nice looking
woman who happened to be going to some place in Nevada near which
this Doctor lived, and she said, when I told her his name, "Why,
yes, I heard of him before I left home, he lives in Silver City,
and at the death of his wife, he went hopelessly insane, but,"
she added, "he is harmless, I believe."
This was a nice fix, to be sure, and I staid over in her section
all day, and late that night the Doctor arrived at the junction
where he was to take another train. So I slept in peace, after a
considerable agitation.
There is nothing like experience to teach a young woman how to
travel alone.
In San Francisco I learned that I could now go as far as Los
Angeles by rail, thence by steamer to San Diego, and so on by
stage to Fort Yuma, where my husband was to meet me with an
ambulance and a wagon.
I was enchanted with the idea of avoiding the long sea-trip down
the Pacific coast, but sent my boxes down by the Steamer
"Montana," sister ship of the old "Newbern," and after a few
days' rest in San Francisco, set forth by rail for Los Angeles.
At San Pedro, the port of Los Angeles, we embarked for San Diego.
It was a heavenly night. I sat on deck enjoying the calm sea, and
listening to the romantic story of Lieutenant Philip Reade, then
stationed at San Diego. He was telling the story himself, and I
had never read or heard of anything so mysterious or so tragic.
Then, too, aside from the story, Mr. Reade was a very
good-looking and chivalrous young army officer. He was returning
to his station in San Diego, and we had this pleasant opportunity
to renew what had been a very slight acquaintance.
The calm waters of the Pacific, with their long and gentle swell,
the pale light of the full moon, our steamer gliding so quietly
along, the soft air of the California coast, the absence of noisy
travellers, these made a fit setting for the story of his early
love and marriage, and the tragic mystery which surrounded the
death of his young bride.
