`The night was clear and frosty, and we
had to work sharp to keep ourselves warm,'
said William Wilson, resuming his narrative
of the circumstances which had led to
the death of Henry Temple. `My boy told
me that the house in which he had seen the
young woman so like his sister, was in H—
street, near the State House. At length we
reached the street, and came in front of the
dwelling. It was a large, three-story house,
and very gentel-looking. Its blinds were
all closed, but on crossing the street and going
near, I could see that lights shone
through the curtains of the front windows.
I asked Charles to tell me at which window
he had seen the young woman when she
beckoned to him, and whom he was firmly
persuaded was his sister, and he pointed to
one in the second story over the door. I
was resolved at loast to find out who lived
there, and there being a grocery on the corner
a few steps distant, I walked in and
purchased a penny worth of tobacco, and at
the same time asked who lived in the house
in question.

`That,' said the man, with a significant
smile, `is Temple's house—they call it his
seraglio!'

`What Temple?' I asked.

`The rich young Temple.'

`As soon as I heard this name I recollected
what my neighbor had said about the
young woman, so like Ann, who was riding
with Temple, and I now saw that my boy
had also seen her at his window, and struck
by the likeness, had taken her to be his sister.
I, therefore, left the shop, and resolved
to return home. But as I repassed the
house I could not help asking myself why
she should have beckoned to Charles, which
he continued to repeat most positively that
she did.

`I stopped before the house with an irresistable
desire to enter it. It seemed to me
that my peace of mind was in some way
hanging upon the occupants. Impulsively
I approached the door, ascended the steps
and rung. Before I could frame an inquiry,
the door opened, and so immediately upon
my ringing, that I knew some one had his
hand upon the knob to come out. There
were two young men in caps and cloaks,
who stared at me and passed out, calling
back and saying, “Good night, Temple.”

` “Good night!” said a voice in the hall,
that made my heart leap from my heart to
my brain. It was the voice of my daughter's
husband. The next moment Temple,
richly dressed, stood in the door which he
was about to close after his guests who had
walked rapidly away, when he saw me by
the light from the hall lamp. I had my little
boy by my hand. The light shone
clearly upon us. He recognized me at
once, and exclaimed in mingled anger and
alarm,

` “The infernal devil! He here! I am
caught now!”

`If he had not uttered this exclamation,
Mr. Gustavus, and thus betrayed his knowledge
of me, I might have been deceived by
him into the belief that he and Carter were
two different persons. If he had betrayed
no sign of knowing me, as doubtless he
would have done, had I not taken him so
completely by surprise, I should have easily
been deceived. But his exclamation, his
tone and manner assured me that I had in
some manner been that man's victim. Still,
how, in what way, I had no definite idea.

` “Is your name Temple?” I asked, hardly
knowing how to act or what to say; for I
had yet no suspicion of the truth that was
soon to overwhelm me.

` “It is, fellow—what do you wish?” he
demanded all at once, assuming his selfpossession.

` “Do you know a young man by the
name of Edward Carter?”

` “I know no such person,” he haughtily
said, closing the door, but which I pressed
open again; for Charles whispered and said
it “was Edward himself!” This I began to
believe, though I was greatly bewildered.

` “How came you to know me?” I asked,
greatly agitated.

` “I do not know you. Don't keep me
here in the cold. You have impudence
enough to come to a gentleman's door to
ask after your low cronies. Begone.”

` “Edward Carter had a scar directly over
his eye-brow`” continued William Wilson,
“and though small, it was a very peculiar
one. I had often noticed it. A sudden recollection
of this came upon me. I stepped
closely up to his face and looked at him fixedly.
I saw the scar there, and my be wildering
suspicions were confirmed.

` “Young man,” I cried, laying my hand
firmly upon his arm, “I know you and you
know me. You cannot deceive me.—
Whether your name be Temple or Carter,
you are the person who married my daughter.
Do not say you do not know me.—
There is villainy somewhere. I will

[figure description] Page 116.[end figure description]

finit out and you too. Where is my daughter?”

“`I know nothing about your daughter,”
he answered, turning as pale as death, and
endeavoring to free himself from my hold:
but the grasp of an injured father is closer
than iron. We stood in the hall together,
the door having closed as he struggled.—
We stood face to face.

“`My daughter! Where is my child?”
I demanded, “for you are the person who
took her from me. I am a victim to thy
treachery. Why art thou here, when I supposed
thee in Vermont? Speak, and unfold
all this mystery.”

“`I have no mystery to unfold.” he answered.
“I have not seen your daughter.”

`At this instant Charles, who is naturally
bold and intelligent above boys of his age,
shouted to me from up stairs, whither he had
run as we struggled, to see if his sister was
not in the chamber in which he beheld her
at the window. He now called out, “Father,
Ann is here. She is locked up.”

`I had no sooner heard this cry than I
dashed the villain from me across the hall,
and hastened up stairs. I found Charles at
a door. He said his sister was within, calling
upon him by name. I also heard her
voice, “Father, father, save me!”

`With the strength of a lion, and with
something of the lion's rage, I dashed in
the door by kicking against it. There was
my daughter, indeed. I beheld her upon
her knees and in tears. She shrunk from
me, crying, “Forgive me! oh, forgive me.”
I clasped her to my heart. I did not ask
her what I should forgive. The extent
of the evil that had befallen her I did not
know or imagine. “Take me home,” said
she, “take me home, and you shall know
all.”

“`Is not your husband a villain?” I asked
her.

“`He is not my husband!” she cried
in tones of anguish that pierced my bosom.
“He has deceived me by a false name, a
false priest, and a false marriage. The Edward
Carter I supposed I had married was
Edward Temple in disguise. The disguise
and the shop he assumed to effect my ruin;
and God knows how thoroughly he has accomplished
his end. I am degraded and
lost.”

`Such,' continued William Wilson, ` were
my daughter's words to me in the hurried
moments of our meeting. My blood boiled
within me. I saw at once all the villainy of
the impostor, and I did not stop to reflect.
I bade her follow me with her brother, and
hastened down stairs to confront the villain
and avenge myself for the deep wrongs he
had done me. But he had flown, dreading
the vengeance he knew that he so well mer
ited. I took my weeping daughter home
with me. I will not attempt to describe to
you the scene that passed when her mother
met her and learned all that had happened.
We all for a while seemed stupified, so sudden
was the shock, so unlooked for, such a
fall from happiness to infamy and wretchedness.

`None of us slept that night. My daughter
related to us all that had passed. She
said that instead of leaving town when she
took leave of us, that Temple drove to the
house where I had found her. Upon her expressing
her surprise, he said that they were
rooms he had fitted up for her to take possession
of as soon as they returned from
their trip to Vermont; and that he intended
to remain there till the next day, as business
compelled him to delay their departure.—
This explanation was satisfactory to a young
and confiding wife, for wife she supposed
she was, and she went in with him, greatly
delighted and surprised at the elegant style
in which the rooms were furnished. After
she had been there an hour she expressed a
desire to return to her home and let us
know she remained in town. But he said
that it would only make a second parting
necessary; and besides he needed her there
to entertain a party of his friends whom he
had invited to celebrate his wedding. So
as evening arrived several young gentlemen
came,' said my daughter, `each accompanied
by a very handsome young lady, all of
whom she received with kindness and hospitality.
An elegant supper was prepared
to which all sat down, and the evening passed
away in great festivity. But she set all
this gaiety down to the unusual occasion of
a wedding supper; and her suspicions were
not awakened. It is true she thought the
young ladies were rather bold and the young
gentlemen somewhat free in their conversation;
but Temple told her not to mind it,
it was the champagne.

`By some excuse or other he managed to
keep her in the house two days, during all
which time her suspicions were not awakened.
On the morning of the third day he
promised to start for Vermont with her, and
she accompanied him in a carriage out of
town; but it was only to meet the same party
at a fashionable resort in the country a
few miles. Here she began to suspect that
she had married a dissipated man; but no
further did her fears extend. It was on her
return that she was seen by my neighbors.
The crisis now approached when the veil
was to be withdrawn by which she had
been blinded. After she had reached the
house again, she began to urge Temple
with tears to permit her to go and see her
parents. But this he refused, saying they
should leave the next day for Varmont.—

[figure description] Page 117.[end figure description]

She represented to him how often he had
promised this, and she feared that there
was something wrong. He laughed and
told me not to fear, she would by and by be
the happiest woman in Boston. He then
left her to go away with one or two friends
who called for him. He had no sooner
gone than she resolved she would secretly
pay us a visit. So she put on her hat and
shawl and hastened down stairs: but was
met in the hall by a servent who told her
she could not go out. `Am I a prisoner?'
she asked surprised. `I have orders to keep
you from going out, Miss.' said the man.

`Miss,' repeated my daughter. `I am a
married woman and beg you will address
me with the respect due to me!'

`At this, the man laughed coarsely and
was about to make some insulting answer,
when the door-bell rang. He went to open
it and admitted a young gentleman who was
a frequent visitor and whom my child had
taken a strong aversion to, from seeing the
bold and lawless admiration with which he
regarded her. She was about retiring up
stairs on beholding him when he called out
to her:—

`Is Temple at home, my dear?'

`He is out,' answered the servant.

`Then I will wait for him. His beauty
here will entertain me pleasantly enough!'

`With these words he approached my
daughter, who alarmed, she hardly knew
why or wherefore, hurried up the stairs. In
three bounds he was by her side and his
arm about her waist, his lips pressed to
hers! She shrieked and endeavored to
break from him. She called on the servant
for aid, who laughed and merely said, `You
had better be cautious, `sir, Mr. Temple
wont like this if she tellshim!'

`I shall certainly inform my husband of
this outrage!' she said releasing herself.

`Your husband, pretty one,' he answered
with a sneer. `Pray who is your husband?'

`Mr. Edward Carter, sir. He will avenge
this insult.'

`Mr. Edward Carter my dear, is none
other than Harry Temple,' said he. `Has
Harry kept up the game so long. I thought
he had told you by this time. Well, as the
cat is out, I may as well tell you that your
supposed husband is the fashionable Harry
Temple. These are his rooms. He pretended
to be a boot-maker to get you to
marry him! But it was no marriage, my
dear; for Dick Shuffle was the priest. The
fact is, my dear, you are Temple's mistress,
and by and by I hope you will be mine.—
He will tire of you in a week and be led off
by some other attraction.'

`The whole truth now flashed with
arrows of fire upon my daughter's senses.
She had heard him called Temple and Har
ry, but he had explained it by saying to her
that he so strikingly resembled Harry Temple
that his friends, in jest, often called him
by the same name! This satisfied her at
the time, but now, all at once, the fearful
truth forced itself upon her mind. Her
head swam, and she sank to the floor insensible.

`When she revived she found this young
man bending over her. She had consciousness
enough to know who it was, and
strength enough to break from his caresses.
She flew to her chamber and locked herself
in. At length Temple returned. She
threw wide the door to admit him, and charged
him with his guilt. At first he was surprised,
but he laughed and confessed that
all she charged him with was the truth. He
then endeavored to soothe her and to induce
her to submit to her fate; but finding it in
vain he left her with curses. He locked
her in. It was shortly after this that Charles
saw her at the window weeping which led
to her discovery and release.'