'Well, in this way things went till I was eighteen. One evening, at this period, I attended a dance which wound up a "quilting bee," at a house about a mile distant from our own. All the rustics there were known to me; but there was a stranger present who at once attracted my attention. He had not the conscious air and movement of the country folk, but seemed as cool and as much at ease as if he were in the woods alone. He was handsome, too, and no sooner did I see him than I felt attracted by his splendid eyes.
'He asked the hostess to present him; and my heart throbbed wildly as he came up, bowed, and asked if he could have the pleasure of a dance. I readily consented, and before the party broke up I had given the stranger all my heart. I had never loved before, much as I had enjoyed men's company. Yet, although I gave my heart away, I had some undefinable dread of this dark, daring stranger, with the remorseless though beautiful eye, and that dare-devil step and bearing. Many times, again, we met; frequently in the meadows when the gloaming came; and often in my father's orchard.
'He declared in burning words his love for me and asked if I would become his wife. I consented. Then I bade him ask my father's sanction; but this he would not listen to. He said that our wedding would have to be kept a profound secret; and asked if I knew any clergyman upon whom I might rely to perform the ceremony. I knew that it would be useless to apply to the Episcopalian minister who preached once in the month in the district church, for he and my father were the closest friends. But Mr. Wyman, a Baptist missionary with whose family I was very intimate, contrary to my father's commands, I felt sure would not refuse. I had an interview and he consented to wed me to my darling.
'In a little while it was accomplished; and writing a letter wherein I stated what had happened, and telling how I loved my husband, I laid it upon my father's desk and went away. My husband took me into another county and provided for my comforts at a little rustic hotel. I should have been supremely happy but that he was obliged to be the greater portion of his time absent upon business, concerning which he would not give me the faintest clue. I noticed, too, that he always came at night and went away before the dawn; and that he always seemed afraid of something and of everybody. Sometimes it ran through my mind that my husband's reason was not sound; a suspicion that some act of good judgment or clever reasoning on his part would soon dispel. But his long and frequent periods of absence soon became intolerable and I told him that take me with him he must; that I was prepared to share labour, and travel, and storm with him.
'"It you do not take me with you," I said one day, after he had been absent for a fortnight, "I shall go home again and never permit you to see me more!" I knew he understood that I would keep my word. He was very much agitated, and he said to me:
'"Since you desire it I will take you with me. When I take you there shall you see more of me than you have seen since we were wedded. But hearken to what I say: I would as lief carry you to the churchyard as to the abode which is mostly mine."
'I was wayward; and declared that I cared for nothing provided that I were with him. One evening he came and bade me to make ready. He had a pair of horses outside, and across the back of his own steed my clothes, which he stowed in sacks, were put. For hours and hours through the night we rode; and when the faintest tinge of silver showed itself in the east we were on the edge of this hateful swamp. From that day to this I have never left it.'
'And what became of your husband?'
'Later on you shall hear. When I discovered who my husband's associates were, what he himself was, shame, rage, and despair entered my heart. I uttered no complaint; but tearlessly resigned myself to my doom. The revelation, of course, instantly crushed the love out of my heart for the man who had betrayed me. Six months later he was shot by a farmer while committing a burglary. I shed no tears when I heard the tidings; nor have I enquired where they buried him.'
'Whence came your husband!'