“To what am I indebted for the honor
of this visit?” I said, quite politely, at
the same time winking at the servant
woman, and making a quick, rapid gesture
towards Eva. “Scoundrel!” cried
Mr. Walmer, “I return home, and find
you alone with my wife!” “Villain!”
said my lady-wife, “I think you are in
Boston, and all the time you are here,
consoling yourself with your mistress!”

I quietly pulled out my watch. “You
have both used certain words which are
strikingly absurd. You speak of home,
sir,—do you call this house your home?
And you, madam, speak of mistress,—
dare you apply that word to my cousin?”
I advanced a step. “I command you,
madam, to return home at once; and as
for you, sir”—I darted forward and twisted
my hand in his collar, and in an instant
had him fixed against the wall,—
“I give you just half a second by the
watch, to leave my house.”

Decidedly I had hit upon a coup d'était.
For, as I sprang forward, the Irish servant
took the opportunity to seize Eva,
and bear her from the room and up stairs
to her own chamber, and my West Indian
madam stood perfectly paralyzed
by my audacity.

“Villain! you are choking me,—you
shall pay for this,—you—” cried Mr.
Walmer, as he was helpless in my grasp.

“Will you leave the house?” I responded,
tightening my grasp.

“Yes,—y-e-s,” he gasped.

I took my hand away; he put on his
hat and left the room; I followed him to
the front door. Arrived there, he swore
awfully, threatening suits at law and
search warrants, without number. I
heard him without reply, and waited
quietly on the threshold until he entered
his carriage. Then returning to the
parlor I confronted madam. She was
livid with suppressed rage.

“It is your turn now, my dear,” I said,
pointing to the door. She fairly shook
her fist in my face.

“You shall pay for this—you shall
pay for this,” she screamed.

“No doubt, love,—no doubt,—everything
in the world has to be paid for.
Good-night!” And I bowed her to the
door, and out of the house, and watched
her until she entered the carriage. She
shook her clenched hand from the window,
and the carriage rolled away. I
closed the door, and went sadly up stairs
to Eva's chamber. I found the poor
child sobbing in the arms of the stout
Irish servant, who was comforting her,
and also swearing fervently at the “ould
gentleman wid de bald head” and “the
squat ould leddy wid a high head-dress,”—
meaning Mr. Walmer and my Madam.

“O Frank, Frank! do not let them take
me from you,” cried Eva, and fell sobbing
on my breast. * * Next morning
early, I was at home in my grand
city mansion. I directed the servant to
inform the madam, that I would do myself
the honor of breakfasting with her.
Then dressing myself with some care, I
retired to the library to await the hour
of breakfast. “This morning,” I soliloquized,
“Mr. Walmer will visit the house
near the avenue with a search-warrant,”—
and I laughed to myself.

It was near eleven o'clock when the
servant came to announce that breakfast
was ready in the lilac room. As I descended
to the breakfast room, I prepared
myself to face my terrible wife.—
“Now, for a grand explosion!”

But judge of my surprise when, entering
the lilac room—a neat little apartment,
the walls covered with blue-colored
paper, warmed by a wood fire, and lighted
by a window opening to the west—
my lady-wife greeted me with a cordial
“good-morning, dear Frank.” Clad in a
sumptuous wrapper, or robe of light blue
cloth, with flowing sleeves, she was seated
at the breakfast table, her back to the
curtained window. I took my seat opposite.

Motioning to the solitary servant, to
retire to the window, beyond hearing
distance, the madam filled my cup with
coffee and handed it to me with one of
her most gracious smiles, at the same
time, leaning confidentially over the
table, “Frank, do you know I made a
great fool of myself last night? You
see this old fool of a Walmer called here
last night, and inflamed with a story
about you secreting yourself with his
young wife, and all that. He persuaded
me to accompany him; you know what
happened at the house, and how angry I
was. Well! coming home in the carriage
with Walmer, I discovered that this
pretty little girl was your cousin indeed;
that she was Walmer's wife only in
name; and that he had no proof whatever

[figure description] Page 041.[end figure description]

of improper relations between you. In
fact, my dear Frank, I discovered that
this Walmer had made me his dupe. But
you'll forgive me, this once, dear Frank,
wont you?”

So bland was her manner, so cordial
her accent, that I forgot her wicked little
eyes and hooked nose. I almost thought
the madam charming.

“Your poor little orphan cousin, must
come and see me. I can judge your feelings
to each other. You are quite brother
and sister, I vow. Take another cup,
Frank!”

I could not help thanking the madam
for her kind construction of my conduct,
and handed her my cup. She filled it
once more with the fragrant coffee, looking
at me earnestly and keeping me engaged
in conversation all the while.

“I know I shall adore that dear little
cousin of yours,” she said, as she handed
me the cup, and watched me as I raised
it to my lips, her small black eyes glittering
like points of flame.

At my lip, however, I held the cup
but did not drink it. I called to the solitary
servant, who stood by the window.

“Come here, Marie,” I said. This servant
was an especial favorite with her
mistress. Marie was a slender quadroon
girl, with an elegant shape, brown complexion,
jet black hair, and large, melancholy
black eyes. She was an exceedingly
interesting and beautiful girl; and, as
has been said, was an especial favorite
with her mistress. Had Marie been her
own daughter, she could not have treated
her more kindly—indeed, there was
a story, which had made its way from
the West Indies to New-York, that the
pretty quadroon was the daughter of
the rich madam.

“Come here, Marie,” I said. And the
brown girl came, and stood by the table,
and looked at me with her sad beautiful
eyes.

“It is a cold morning, my child, and
you look chilled,” said I. “Here is some
excellent coffee, prepared by my wife.
Drink it, Marie, it will do you good.”

With a wondering look the girl took
the cup and raised it to her lips, and,
with a bound like a tigress, and with a
scream like the cry of some other wild
beast, the madam sprung from her chair
and dashed the cup to the floor. The fragments
were scattered over the carpet.
And then panting, gasping, livid, the
Madam sank back into her seat, and
trembled, half fainting there, her white
lips moving as though she wished to
speak, but could not.

“What all dis 'bout?” said Marie,
making big eyes.

“Go from the room,” I said. She obeyed.
I rose, locked the door, and put the
key in my pocket.

“It is between you and me, madam,”
said I, approaching the speechless woman.
“I will thank you for that little
phial which you so adroitly conceal in
the folds of your right sleeve, and from
which you poured a few drops into my
coffee.”

“I have no phial,” she gasped, clasping
her hands, and crouching in her chair.
I made no more ado, but seizing her
wrists with a firm grip, I drew from her
right sleeve a small silver phial or flagon,
which (as I afterwards discovered) contained
a subtle and deadly poison.

“Miserable woman! Worn out by
long years of sensual excess, you purchased
me in marriage, so that I might
be the instrument of your appetites, or
the cloak of your numerous amours.
Was this not enough? Are you not
satisfied with having degraded me into
what I am? Why make me drink from the
same phial as Mr. De Wolf, your second,
and Mr. Cardenas, your first husband!
You would murder me, would you, because
I am guilty of preferring, to your
loathsome caresses, the love of a pure
and stainless girl?”

Hoarse with rage I stood over her—
she crouching, trembling, and abject in
her chair.

“Now, mark me! I will place this phial,
together with a sealed affidavit of the
facts of your attempt to poison me, in
the possession of an eminent lawyer, with
directions to break the seal, in case of
my death. I will so surround you with
proofs of your guilt, that in case of my
sudden death, you certainly will be tried
for murdering me. Meanwhile, I will
control your fortune—appear in public
as your affectionate husband—wink at
your amours, so long as they are not too
shameless—but I will not eat at the same
table, nor share the same bed with you.
Do you understand me, or shall I repeat
my words?”

“Her livid lips moved, but she could

[figure description] Page 042.[end figure description]

not frame a word. I unlocked the door;
Marie, the quadroon, had evidently been
listening, for she stood, pale and trembling,
on the outside.

“Come in, child,” said I, leading her
by the hand. “Your poor mother is not
well. Go to her.”

And I left them together.

From that time, the madam was as submissive
and cowed as a tigress in a cage;
not but that there was, at times, a lighting
up of her eyes, as though the tigress
would like to make a spring.

And, in the mean time, where was
Eva? Precisely the question which Mr.
Walmer asked when, on going to the
house near the avenue, with an officer
and a search-warrant, he found that the
bird had flown. His lawyer asked the
same question, in a portentous letter,
well-flavored with threats of a suit for
abduction, and so forth, to which I replied
by a polite note, in which I blandly
assured him that I knew nothing of the
matter, but, at the same time, I advised
him to go ahead, if he thought proper;
and then his son, a huge youth of twenty-five,
with knock-knees and goggle
eyes, came to see me at my city mansion,
and demanded satisfaction.

“Satisfaction for what?” I asked.

“For abducting my father's wife,”
said he.

“Who will, allow me to ask, inherit
your father's estate?”

“I will, of course—sole heir,” was
the prompt reply.

“But will you be sole heir, in case
your parent is blessed with children by
a second wife?”

The young man had never thought of
that before; called me a good fellow,
shook my hand, and went his way; and I
saw no more of him.

But where was Eva? For months,
Mr. Walmer surrounded me with spies,
tracked my footsteps every where, (so
he thought,) and discovered—nothing.

“Where have you got her?” said that
venerable man of the world, my father,
with a wink and a chuckle. “Didn't
think that a young fellow, just from college,
knew so much of the world. Where
have you got her?”

To which I replied, in the most innocent
manner, yet with dignity, “Pardon
me, Mr. Warner, but really, I do not
know to whom you refer.”

Whereat the gay old man made mouths
and incredulous faces.

And where was Eva?