Swamp Angel Read Online Free PDF Page A

and alone, she had acted with her own resources, and whatever she had chosen to do, Hilda Severance was glad that Maggie had not delivered herself into the hands of a friend, even into
her
hands. Thus she knew nothing. Edward Vardoe broke into a torrent of accusation and abuse.
    Mrs. Severance, sitting up in bed in her room, listened, put out her cigarette stub, got out of bed with agility considering her size, thrust her small feet into bedroom slippers, shed her shawl, put on her dressing gown, knotted the cord, reached for her package of cigarettes, and walked with ponderous softness into the parlor. She stood in the doorway and looked at Edward Vardoe without expression. She crossed the room, lowered herself into a chair, took out a cigarette, tapped it firmly, lighted it, drew heavily, and blew twin spirals through her nostrils. Through the spirals she looked at Edward Vardoe. She did not speak.
    Edward Vardoe checked himself for a moment. Then, seeing that this massive woman in the armchair seemed to beonly a spectator, he continued.
    “She said she came here today and you were both out.”
    “I took some typing out to the University this afternoon, and when Mother’s lying in bed she doesn’t get up for anybody.”
    Edward Vardoe threw his arms wide.
    “If there was anything wrong, why didn’t she say so? If she … if there’s a man … where would there be a man … I been a good husband … her wearing that good suit tonight … I knew … she’s quiet and artful as the devil … planned all this … if there’s a man by God I’ll find her … I’ll fix her … I’ll …”
    Mrs. Severance narrowed her eyes and looked at him. She leaned across the table beside her and picked up a small nickel-plated revolver, pearl-handled. On the metal was inscribed in flowing script the words Swamp Angel. Mrs. Severance twirled the Swamp Angel as if absentmindedly, then like a juggler she tossed it spinning in the air, caught it with her little hand, tossed it again, higher, again, higher, spinning, spinning. It was a dainty easy practiced piece of work, the big woman with the Swamp Angel. Edward Vardoe stopped speaking and watched her, taken out of himself.
    He turned to Hilda Severance. “Why does she do that?”
    “She likes doing it,” said Hilda equably. “That was hers, and her father’s.” She smiled. “That’s the family pet. It’s the Swamp Angel. Her father used it in the business and so did she.”
    “Business?”
    Mrs. Severance looked coldly at her daughter.
    “Can she shoot?”
    Hilda Severance laughed. “You’d best go home, Mr. Vardoe,” she said, “and pull yourself together. Perhaps Maggie’s not gone. If she
has
gone, there’s not much you can do, is there? Maggie won’t change her mind. If she’s gone, she won’tcome back. You’d better settle to that. I don’t think there’s a man. In fact I’m sure.”
    Mrs. Severance got up slowly as one bored by proceedings, and walked ponderously back to her room, taking her cigarettes and the Swamp Angel with her. Hilda Severance continued. “Go home,” she said rather kindly, “and get a night’s sleep and face it all in the morning.”
    Edward Vardoe rose as if drunk or dreaming. He went out without a word, down the steps and along the dark road. As his thoughts outpaced him he saw the confusion of the bedroom, the pans at the kitchen sink, and – by gum – all the lights on, and him so careful. Then in the shade of tomorrow waited the new car and Mr. Weller and humiliation that only venom could assuage. His life was broken off, splintered like a stick, and she’d done it.
    Mrs. Severance kicked off her little slippers and heaved herself up into the bed. She settled herself against the pillows with satisfaction and was just striking a match when her daughter came and stood in the doorway.
    “You’re a wicked old woman and should be ashamed of yourself,” said her daughter.
    “I know,” said Mrs. Severance comfortably.
    She