"I am here, with some friends," I faltered. "My father could not come with me—and—"
Between the kisses which he planted upon the lips of his betrothed—(so he thought)—he explained his unexpected appearance at Niagara. At Havana he had received the letter from my father, desiring him to hasten, on important business, to the city of Mexico. He had obeyed, and accomplished his mission sooner than he anticipated; had left Vera Cruz for New Orleans; taken steamboat for Cincinnati, and from thence to Cleveland, and across the lake to Buffalo and Niagara Falls.
"And now I'm on my way home, Marion," he concluded. "What a pleasant surprise it will be for father!"
"I am married, Walter."—The words were on my lips, but I could not speak them.
We rose, and, arm in arm, wandered over the bridge, up the steep, and through the winding walks of Goat Island. Leaning on the arm of Walter, I forgot everything but that he loved me and that he was with me. I did not dare to think that to-morrow's light would disclose to him the truth—that I was married, and to another. At length, as we approached the bridge which leads from the Island to the shore, I said—"Leave me Walter; we must not be seen to return together. To-morrow you can call upon me, when I am in presence of my—friends."
One passionate embrace was exchanged, and I watched him, as he crossed the bridge alone, until he was out of sight. Why, I knew not, but an impulse for which I could not account, induced me to retrace my steps to Luna Island. In a few moments I had crossed the bridge (connecting Iris with Luna Island,) and stood once more on the Cataract's brink, under the same tree where an hour before I had discovered Walter. Oh, the agony of that moment, as, gazing over the falls, I called up my whole life, my blighted prospect, and my future without one ray of hope! Should I advance, but a single step, and bury my shame and my sorrows beneath the cataract? Once dead, Walter would at least respect my memory, while living he could only despise and abhor me.
While thoughts like these flashed over my brain, my ear was saluted with the chorus of a drinking song, hummed in an uneven and tremulous voice; and, in a moment my husband passed before me, with an unsteady step. He was confused and excited by the fumes of champagne. Approaching the verge of the island—but a few feet from the verge of the cataract—where the waters look smooth and glassy, as they are about to take the last plunge, he stood gazing, now at the torrent, now at the moon, with a vague, half-drunken stare.
That moment decided my life!
His attitude, the cataract so near, my own lost and hopeless condition, all rushed upon me. Vailing my face, I darted forward and uttered a shriek. Startled by the unexpected sound, he turned, lost his balance, and fell backward into the torrent. But, as he fell, he clutched a branch which overhung the water. Thus, scarcely two yards from the brink, he struggled madly for his life, his face upturned to the moon. I advanced and uncovered my face. He knew me, for the shock had sobered him.
"Marion, save me, save me!" he cried.