“The serpent! He knew full well that, if he had presumed to offer us such an affront as to give you his name where your father could see it, the insult would never have been permitted to reach your eyes! Where is the letter, Odalite? Let me see it.”
The girl took the paper from its envelope, and, in wrath and scorn, read as follows:
“To Mrs. Angus Anglesea: My wife—for wife you are, despite all the false testimony brought forward to separate us—I was forced by circumstances to depart from you without a last farewell; yet I cannot deny myself the privilege of writing to you a last letter before I leave the country—to assure you that I am your lawful husband, lord and master, who will never yield one jot or tittle of his rights to mortal man or woman, but who will contest them, if need be, through every court in the country; and, if driven to extremity, will defend them at the sword’s point. I refer you to your mother for proofs in her possession—proofs which I gave her, and which must convince you that our marriage was a perfectly regular and legal transaction, and that you are, therefore, my lawful wife, and I exhort you to be wise, prudent and faithful to your marriage bonds; for, be assured, I am not one who will brook offense, but who will follow with swift, sharp vengeance the slightest infringement of my rights. I remain, and I intend to remain, until death, your husband,
Angus Anglesea.
“New York, December —, 18—.”
When Mrs. Force had read this delectable epistle, she tossed it into the fire, where it quickly blazed up and burned to ashes.
“There!” she said. “It is gone. Forget it, my dear. It was nothing but the vain boast of a brute, a coward and a braggadocio! He is on the ocean now, a fugitive from justice—yes, my dear, no less. He could not stay in this country without the danger of being prosecuted for bigamy, and sent to the State prison. He dared not stay and face that peril. In all human probability, we shall never see him again.”
“But, mamma, has he—can he have—any claim on me? He referred me to you for proof that he has. What proof did he mean, mamma?” pleaded the girl.
“I do not believe that he has any claims on you, Odalite,” gravely replied the lady.
“But, mamma, do you know that he has not?” inquired poor Odalite, in an access of anxiety.