Fettered and controlled by the witchery of his evil genius, Cyrus Arthur lost all power but that borrowed of his seducer. Her counsel replaced the once wise confidence of a better companion. Her influence was as a loadstone in a compass,—it carried him in dumb obedience to her will. He was absorbed, confused, bewitched, stranded, lost!
As often as they met in their evil way, she demanded a divorce and insisted on early proceedings.
“But the cause?” he would say. “Cause?” she would answer; “make a cause!” “Not so easily done,” replied her willing admirer.
“Money will do anything,” was her ready answer.
“Money will do anything,” repeated the fond lumberman; “true, money will do everything.”
But how? When, and where?
These questions were all puzzling.
IV.
There was a dark-faced inspector, a man-of-all-work in lumber camp, called Roland, who had often called at Arthur’s, and who occasionally partook a little too freely of Northern fire-water, as the Indians term it, and whose poverty at such times would consent to almost anything, on one pretence and another.
Young Roland was sent to inquire if Mr. Arthur was in, or if Mrs. Arthur needed shopping done, or errands attended to, with instructions to hint that his employer was seen riding out with the enchantress in a cutter, seemingly on the way to another village. These little irritations were to be repeated for effect, but no effect seems probable. They did create some inquiry, and at such dates of confidential conferences Mrs. Arthur was alone with the hireling spy and listened to his inferences of her husband’s indiscretions.