Starting to her feet, Mrs. Anson gazed around the room with an indescribable awe, for she thought the sound bore a harsh resemblance to that of her forsaken husband. No one, however, was visible, and she began to think it was some creation of her excited fancy, when, turning her eye to the latticed casement that overlooked the garden, she plainly saw a man gliding away through the copse. Another moment, and the same horseman she had before observed, dashed into the shadow at furious speed, and disappeared.
Major Derode was holding high revel in London. There was a report that two marriages had been projected—those of himself and of his daughter. His fortune, never large, had been entirely dissipated at the gaming table, and he was deeply involved in debt. The contemplated alliances would, however, bring wealth into the family, and causing his expectations to be known, his creditors were patient. The object of his personal attentions was the Honorable Mrs. Torrance,—a widow of brilliant charms and large property. The handsome major had won her heart and received her troth before his visit to America, and but one obstacle existed to their immediate union. Rumor, with her hundred tongues had apprised the dashing widow that the gallant major had brought over with him an American beauty, who was now residing in the neighborhood of the metropolis. The major first denied, then confessed it, but declared she had returned to her native forests.
“I scarce believe you,” said the widow, “but I will send down to-morrow to the cottage, which has been pointed out to me as her residence, and learn the truth.”
“She must remove, then, before to-morrow,” said Derode to himself as he drove home. “Fool that I was to bring her here; however, I suppose I can ship her home again, consigned to her plodding Yankee husband, who will be rejoiced that his wife has seen the world free of expense.”
Night had closed in when Derode arrived at the cottage. Mrs. Anson was ill. She had been in a high fever, as the abigail informed the major, and delirious. She was calmer now, however, and he approached her couch.
“How unlucky you are ill at this time,” said he, “for circumstances render it necessary for you to quit this place immediately.”
“Let me remain a few days longer,” replied the heart-broken woman, “and my next remove will be to the peaceful grave.”
“It is impossible—to-morrow morning, the earlier the better, you must depart.”
“And whither must I go?”