"Oh! oh! oh! Hold me! I'm 'kilt!'" cried Cap, falling back in her
chair in an inextinguishable fit of laughter, that shook her whole
frame. She laughed until the tears ran down her cheeks. She wiped
her eyes and looked at Old Hurricane, and every time she saw his
confused and happy face she burst into a fresh paroxysm that seemed
to threaten her life or her reason.
"Who is the happy--Oh, I can't speak! Oh, I'm 'kilt' entirely!" she
cried, breaking off in the midst of her question and falling into
fresh convulsions.
"It's no new love, Cap; it's my old wife!" said Old Hurricane,
wiping his face.
This brought Capitola up with a jerk! She sat bolt upright gazing at
him with her eyes fixed as if In death.
"Cap," said Old Hurricane, growing more and more confused, "I've
been a married man more years than I like to think of! Cap, I've--
I've a wife and grown-up son! Why do you sit there staring at me,
you little demon? Why don't you say something to encourage me, you
little wretch?"
"Go on!" said Cap, without removing her eyes.
"Cap, I was--a jealous--passionate--Demmy, confession isn't in my
line. A diabolical villain made me believe that my poor little wife
wasn't good!"
"There! I knew you'd lay it on somebody else. Men always do that,"
said Cap, to herself.
"He was mortally wounded in Mexico. He made a confession and
confided it to Herbert, who has just sent me an attested copy.
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