"Oh, my son Eugene! I have taken up my pen many times, and unable to relate, even to you, the awful, the shocking events which followed, have again and again been obliged to lay it down. But justice to your departed mother requires the sacrifice, and it shall be made.
"I reached Nice, and with the fires of Etna raging within me, I drove directly to the home of Imogen. She was not in. One of the servants informed me she had gone out to walk with Mr. Mortimer.
"The old steward caught my hand, as without waiting to see my children, I was rushing after the wanderers. "Thank God!" said he, "that you have returned."
"Even in this cordial welcome, I read a confirmation of my dishonor. Having learned the direction they had taken, I flew along the streets until at length I saw my wife approaching with Mortimer. I instantly crouched behind a wall, and as they passed, heard her imploring him to leave Nice.
"He told her it was in vain for her to plead. The time had passed when he might have done so; now it was no longer in his power to tear himself from her presence.
"Had I not heard enough? A voice within me thundered why wait for more? With one bound, I leaped like a tiger over the wall, and throwing him to a distance from where she stood, I presented a pistol to his breast.
"The movement had been so sudden, and unexpected, that for an instant they stood paralyzed. But recovering himself, Mortimer, though pale as death, stood erect before me, saying, 'you can do me no greater favor than to end a life so miserable as mine has become.'
"There was something about him which reminded me of the loved Ralph of my boyhood, and my hand holding the pistol dropped to my side. But Imogen rushed forward and threw herself at my feet. 'Spare his life! oh, Harry! spare his life!!'
"In this appeal, I recognized only her love for the guilty wretch; and I spurned her from me, calling her by the vilest of names. She fell senseless to the ground, and I, maddened by the scene, only waited to appoint a meeting for the morrow with Mortimer, when hastening to the inn, where I had ordered my horse to be left, I flew rather than rode to the next town. I cannot tell how I passed the night. At the time specified, I was at the place, and soon Mortimer met me. I placed a brace of pistols in his hand, and in a voice hoarse with passion, I bade him take his choice.
"Mechanically he took one from me, and then stopped. 'Harry,' said he, 'one word before you fire. I alone am to blame. Imogen is'—he hesitated—'an angel!'