Evening came, and after supper Mrs. Sydney retired to her chamber. To her surprise, her husband joined her there; but her surprise increased, and her annoyance was extreme, when he announced his intention of remaining with her that evening, at home!
Disguising her real feelings, and affecting a joy which was a stranger to her heart at the moment, she only smiled as if in approval of his determination. But in her heart she was most painfully disappointed.
'At all events,' she said to herself, 'I will not place a light in my window, which was the signal I arranged with Nero—so I am safe, at least.'
What was her astonishment and dismay, when her husband deliberately took the lamp from the table, and placed it in the window!
Amazed and trembling, she sat for some minutes in silence, while Frank, having lighted a cigar, began smoking with the utmost coolness. At length the conscience-stricken lady ventured to say—
'My dear, why do you place the light in the window?'
'Because it is my whim to do so,' replied Frank.
'It is a singular whim,' remarked his wife.
'Not so singular as the whim of a white lady of my acquaintance, who amalgamates with a negro,' said her husband.
'What do you mean?' demanded the guilty woman, ready to faint with terror and apprehension.