"Yes; but she's a prudent woman; wasn't going to exhibit her affection outdoors, where she might be discovered by a dozen; besides, that neighbor who brought her might have an unpleasant story to tell. I know him and he's as gossipy as an old woman; she knows him, too, of course."
"But my opinion is formed, brother," said I. "I shall keep an eye on them, and I'll let you know in time, all about it. I haven't told you yet that I know that scamp. I detest him. He is no less than ——;" but my brother chanced not to have heard of him, and so the conversation dropped for the moment.
We were obliged to wait for the stage to the station for some two hours; and Mr. Le Roy and Mrs. Stevens sallied out with the little girl, to enjoy the fine air, perhaps, of the morning, and sauntered down "South Street," so I think it is called; a fine broad avenue, lined with beautiful elms, and on which are many of the residences of the principal "nabobs" of that old town of Litchfield, which somebody has facetiously termed "The Paradise of Loafers"—elegant ones. In summer, many people from cities, far and near, spend weeks and months at Litchfield; and my brother and I followed along after Le Roy and Mrs. Stevens, for I was bound to study him then and there as much as possible. We noticed that all of the promenaders who were coming in the opposite direction,—and there were several out that morning,—gazed upon Mrs. Stevens with expression of wonder at her beauty; and then seemed to look from her to her attendant with shrugs of the shoulders and a leer of the eyes, as they instinctively read his true character.
There is a magnetism about the coarser villains, a something indescribable and individual too, not of the same kind and degree in all, which discloses their real nature, however much they may try to hide it. As well might a short man hope to appear tall. But the great, successful villains, the keen men, who succeed by their genius, and not so much by force, constitute another class; genial, affable, often very delicate and refined in their appearance, attractive in short, especially to women. Indeed, they seem to work a spell over nearly every woman they meet. Le Roy was one of the coarser class, whose villanous natures the tailor's art cannot hide, however neatly they may be dressed,—and he was much adorned that day.
We followed on behind Le Roy and Mrs. Stevens at a respectful distance. Occasionally Le Roy cast a glance behind; but we were occupied with our own fun and laughter, or were busily engaged looking at this or that place, or distant scene, whenever he did so. The conversation between him and her was apparently one of an intense nature, he gesticulating considerably, in a forcible manner, and I noticed that when she turned up her face to look at him, as she did when evidently answering some question of his, there was visible a painful expression of fear of something, and I was sure it must be of him.
She kept a little space between herself and him, leading her child on the side nearer him or when the child at times ran on before, I observed that she "sidled" away from him, as if too near approach were pollution. I thought her manifestations unmistakable; and there was in his actions something which was as readily translatable, to the extent, at least, that he felt he had an important victim in his power; and so he had, as the sequel proved; but not so surely as he thought—the villain!
Le Roy and Mrs. Stevens continued their walk far down the street, and turned about to go back. I said to my brother, "Engage his eyes as we meet, and I will study her face." Soon we met. Brother stared him so directly in the face as to secure his whole attention. He seemed to wince, my brother said; and I looked into the face of Mrs. Stevens,—how beautiful!—and I was conscious that I must have expressed a deep sympathy, for I felt it. Something told me that she felt it, too. There was a slight flush upon her cheek, and a kindly, prayerful look in her eye, like one needing sympathy, and we passed each other.
"You are right," said my brother, as we got well past; "that man is a villain, without doubt. I don't think it is love, or even a desire to possess that woman for himself, which moves him; there's a 'wheel within a wheel,' here somewhere."
I asked my brother to describe to me minutely then the looks of the villain as we passed him, for I had half a fear that he might suspect we were watching him. But from what my brother said, I concluded that the fellow was not suspicious of us. They returned to the hotel in due time. He dogged her every step, and she kept aloof from him as much as possible. Finally the time to depart came, and we took the stage together, my brother bidding me good by, shaking my hand with a firm grasp, just as the stage started, and saying,—
"I hope you will have the best success."