“I was induced by Lottie to make a second trip to New York to bring Harry home. Upon my arrival at the city, I was not a little surprised to learn that Wallingford had caused a costly monument to be erected at the head of the grave, with a suitable inscription made in plain Italian letters.
“When I inquired for Harry at his hotel, I was told by the clerk that I would probably find him at the cemetery, as he had been in the habit of making diurnal visits there. I encountered many difficulties in threading my way through the city of the dead. But after making several mistakes, and traveling many hundreds of yards unnecessarily, I at length succeeded in finding the spot I sought.
“Harry was busily engaged with a florist in arranging some pinks and geraniums at the foot of the grave, and consequently did not observe me until I had stood leaning against the palings gazing at him for several minutes. When he looked up and saw me he dropped the trowel with which he had been transplanting the flowers, and walked briskly toward me, saying as he held out his hand:
“‘Ah, Edward, I have killed her at last! Here lies my poor victim—driven into the grave by an unworthy wretch who is himself unfit to live, and not prepared to die. You told me I would kill her, and alas! how true it has come to pass.’
“‘I am sent by Lottie to bring you home,’ I at length managed to say. ‘Your sister is almost driven to despair by this distressing occurrence, and it is your duty to go to her as speedily as possible.’
“‘No, Edward, it would only serve to increase my darling sister’s sorrow for me to be with her. Tell my beloved sister that it is my wish to remain in New York, where I can water the grave of my victim with my tears, and commune with her gentle spirit.’
“Now, my good friends, here I am at the end of my awkward story, and if I have bored you with the telling of it, I am truly sorry for it; but if I knew I had been so fortunate as to interest you, I should be very much gratified. To all of my good friends who have been so kind as to honor me with their attention, I beg permission to express my grateful thanks; and by way of winding up the entertainment, I suggest the idea that we now adjourn to the saloon and engage in a quadrille.”
“Wait a moment, sir, if you please,” said Ivanhoe, as he threw himself in front of Ingomar, as if he was determined to force him to halt; “you have not yet finished your story, and we do not intend to permit you to retire until you have told us what has become of Lottie Wallingford.”
“Yes, yes, yes!” exclaimed a dozen voices at once. “Let us know what has become of Lottie Wallingford.”
“My friends,” replied Ingomar, “I pledge you my word that there is no such person as Lottie Wallingford now living, so far as I know or believe; but if her Majesty will remove her mask, I will be very glad to introduce to you Mrs. Lottie Demar, my beloved wife, of whom I am exceedingly proud.”