Mr. Macglowrie's Widow Page #6

"Mr. Macglowrie's Widow" is a short story by Bret Harte that explores themes of love, loss, and the complexities of human relationships set against the backdrop of the American West. The narrative revolves around the widow of Mr. Macglowrie, who grapples with her grief while navigating the expectations and judgments of her community. Harte’s nuanced characterizations and poignant storytelling highlight the struggles of a woman seeking independence and fulfillment in a changing world. With a touch of humor and a keen observation of social dynamics, the story poignantly examines the impact of loss and the search for identity in the face of adversity.

• Short story

								


"Forgive me," he said pleadingly, "but, of course, I knew nothing. I
disliked the man from instinct--I thought he had some power over you."

"He has none--except the secret that would also have exposed himself."

"But others knew it. Colonel Starbottle must have known his name? And
yet"--as he remembered he stammered--"he refused to tell me."

"Yes, but not because he knew he was my husband, but because he knew he
bore the same name. He thinks, as every one does, that my husband died
in San Francisco. The man who died there was my husband's cousin--a
desperate man and a noted duelist."

"And YOU assumed to be HIS widow?" said the astounded Blair.

"Yes, but don't blame me too much," she said pathetically. "It was a
wild, a silly deceit, but it was partly forced upon me. For when I
first arrived across the plains, at the frontier, I was still bearing
my husband's name, and although I was alone and helpless, I found myself
strangely welcomed and respected by those rude frontiersmen. It was not
long before I saw it was because I was presumed to be the widow of ALLEN
MacGlowrie--who had just died in San Francisco. I let them think so, for
I knew--what they did not--that Allen's wife had separated from him and
married again, and that my taking his name could do no harm. I accepted
their kindness; they gave me my first start in business, which brought
me here. It was not much of a deceit," she continued, with a slight
tremble of her pretty lip, "to prefer to pass as the widow of a dead
desperado than to be known as the divorced wife of a living convict. It
has hurt no one, and it has saved me just now."

"You were right! No one could blame you," said Blair eagerly, seizing
her hand.

But she disengaged it gently, and went on:--

"And now you wonder why I gave him a meeting here?"

"I wonder at nothing but your courage and patience in all this
suffering!" said Blair fervently; "and at your forgiving me for so
cruelly misunderstanding you."

"But you must learn all. When I first saw MacGlowrie under his assumed
name, I fainted, for I was terrified and believed he knew I was here
and had come to expose me even at his own risk. That was why I hesitated
between going away or openly defying him. But it appears he was more
frightened than I at finding me here--he had supposed I had changed my
name after the divorce, and that Mrs. MacGlowrie, Laurel Spring, was his
cousin's widow. When he found out who I was he was eager to see me
and agree upon a mutual silence while he was here. He thought only of
himself," she added scornfully, "and Colonel Starbottle's recognition
of him that night as the convicted swindler was enough to put him to
flight."

"And the colonel never suspected that you were his wife?" said Blair.

"Never! He supposed from the name that he was some relation of my
husband, and that was why he refused to tell it--for my sake. The
colonel is an old fogy--and pompous--but a gentleman--as good as they
make them!"

A slightly jealous uneasiness and a greater sense of shame came over
Blair.

"I seem to have been the only one who suspected and did not aid you," he
said sadly, "and yet God knows"--

The widow had put up her slim hand in half-smiling, half-pathetic
interruption.

"Wait! I have not told you everything. When I took over the
responsibility of being Allen MacGlowrie's widow, I had to take over
HER relations and HER history as I gathered it from the frontiersmen. I
never frightened any grizzly--I never jabbed anybody with the scissors;
it was SHE who did it. I never was among the Injins--I never had any
fighting relations; my paw was a plain farmer. I was only a peaceful
Blue Grass girl--there! I never thought there was any harm in it; it
seemed to keep the men off, and leave me free--until I knew you! And you
know I didn't want you to believe it--don't you?"

She hid her flushed face and dimples in her handkerchief.

"But did you never think there might be another way to keep the men off,
and sink the name of MacGlowrie forever?" said Blair in a lower voice.

"I think we must be going back now," said the widow timidly, withdrawing
her hand, which Blair had again mysteriously got possession of in her
confusion.

"But wait just a few minutes longer to keep me company," said Blair
pleadingly. "I came here to see a patient, and as there must have been
some mistake in the message--I must try to discover it."

"Oh! Is that all?" said the widow quickly. "Why?"--she flushed again and
laughed faintly--"Well! I am that patient! I wanted to see you alone to
explain everything, and I could think of no other way. I'm afraid I've
got into the habit of thinking nothing of being somebody else."

"I wish you would let me select who you should be," said the doctor
boldly.

"We really must go back--to the horses," said the widow.

"Agreed--if we will ride home together."

They did. And before the year was over, although they both remained, the
name of MacGlowrie had passed out of Laurel Spring.
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