She did not see the glisten of the eye, or the avaricious clutch of the hand, as that miserly woman thought, "I will have that." She only heard the soft tones of her voice as she said, "my dear Mrs. Morgan, I will take it and see what I can do, but I am really afraid it is not sufficient to induce her to part with them, as you say they are actually worth more money."
"What shall I do then? I feel as though I could not part with them, and in such a way too, that is worse than all. I would have sacrificed them in a moment for that man, if he had been sick and suffering, for want of food or medicine."
"Well, well, my dear friend, do not worry yourself. Remember that you have friends, kind sympathizing friends, who will do more for you than they would for themselves. I will go directly and see what can be done if you will give me the money."
So she did, and by dint of threats, and coaxing, and promises to Josephine, to try and get something out of "the poor fool's wife," for her, she gave them up, and Mrs. Laylor, before night, had them safely locked in her own iron chest.
"Why did she not give them to Athalia at once?"
Simply, because she intended to keep both money and things. So she told Athalia, that Josephine had not yet returned from Coney Island, where she knew she had gone with her husband, wearing her watch, passing for his wife, spending her money, which he had collected for the making of the dress that he had stolen away without her knowledge.
But she had come back; where was Walter?
Somewhere with his set. He had not yet dared to face his injured wife. He intended to skulk home late at night. In the evening he went to see his dear, sweet, amiable mistress. She was in about the same state of mind after Mrs. Laylor left her, that a female tiger would be, on arriving at her lair, after a little pleasure excursion, in which she might have killed a couple of Indian children, but was driven off before her appetite for blood was satisfied, and now found that some other equally ferocious animal had despoiled her of her own young.
Walter and she had had "a good time" together, and parted lovingly only a few hours before. How he was surprised as he entered her room carelessly, to hear her tell him with a terrible oath—oaths are ten times more terrible in woman's than in man's mouth—to leave the room or she would take his life. At first, he thought she was in sport. One look was enough to convince him of his error. Then he thought she was mad, because he had entered without knocking, and found her engaged in dressing for the evening debauch and usual scenes of dissipation, and began to rally her on her Eve-like appearance.
That was more than some more amiable women can bear. No matter how ill dressed or undressed, a woman does not like to be rallied on her personal appearance.