I had told her we would take the midnight train for Buffalo, where we would be married, and remain at Niagara for a few days before our return to New York. She trusted me in everything, and asked me if she could increase her wardrobe before the time for our return. We were to start early enough to permit us to take a drive before going to the station. Lucille had been confined so long in the house that she welcomed this arrangement, and she was very eager and nervous to start.
I had ordered my horse and dog-cart to be ready at a certain hour. I had a liking for late drives, so my orders were not considered unusual. I walked out of the house, first telling Lucille to lock the door and walk around the corner on Fifth Avenue, where I would get her.
Before starting, however, I asked Lucille to drink a glass of wine with me. I put in hers a sleeping potion, and she raised it to her lips, saying:
“Here’s to our happiness.”
I put my wine down untasted.
Then she came to me in an affectionate way I had once admired, and raising her veil, said:
“Tolman, kiss your little one.”
I folded her in my arms. My heart beat quickly, my breath came painfully. I held her close to my breast, I kissed her soft, warm, lips regretfully.
“Lucille,” I said, pleadingly, “will you go back to your home and forget you wanted to be my wife?”
“I would rather die,” she answered me, angrily.