The warnings were from time to time unheeded and disregarded by the too confiding and affectionate husband; but, on the afternoon of Thursday, harrowing facts were whispered n his ear, which induced him to resort to the stratagem which resulted in the detection of his wife in grossly improper conduct.
On the day referred to, Mr. Stuyvesant informed his wife that legal business required his absence from the city, and would detain him, probably, ten or fifteen days; and she parted with him, bestowing so affectionate, and apparently loving farewell, as almost to remove the bitter and heart-rending suspicions which were then racking the breast of the injured husband. But, resolved on carrying out his intent, he simulated departure; but instead of leaving the city he remained at the house of a trusty friend, deliberating upon and maturing plans for the carrying out of that project, which was fated to reveal to him his wife's shame and his own dishonor.
After a lapse of some hours, Mr. Stuyvesant, with two friends, repaired to his residence, and having obtained admission through a rear sub-entrance, proceeded to his bed-chamber, on entering which, on tip-toe, he discovered his guilty wife in the embrace of her betrayer. The dishonored husband stood aghast and petrified—the wife endeavored to conceal herself—while her paramour was summarily ejected through the window by the avenging friends.
The husband, on recovering from the shock which had temporarily paralyzed him, left the house in solemn sadness, and absented himself from the presence of one who had so cruelly dishonored him, and for whom he had always evinced the warmest affection. Fearing lest reason should leave its throne, and he commit an act which would usher the soul of one he fondly loved un-shriven to her last account with all her imperfections on her head, poor Stuyvesant wept and left. His cup of bitterness was full. He repaired to the house of his friend where he passed the remainder of the night. In the morning, depressed and heart-broken, he returned to the home, once so happy and joyous, but now bleak and desolate, for the purpose of winding up domestic affairs, breaking up the house, dismissing the servants, and parting forever from the frail and erring woman, now wife to him but in name.
But the lady, instead of expressing contrition and supplicating for pardon for the irreparable wrong she had inflicted, assailed him with a torrent of vituperative abuse; and on his aged mother remonstrating with the guilty one upon the iniquity of her proceeding, she flew at her with the passion of a tigress, and cruelly beat and maltreated the aged lady, who is now verging on the grave. The neighbors, hearing the disturbance, called in the police, and Mrs. Stuyvesant was arrested and taken before Police Justice Mansfield at Essex Market Police Court, by whom she was committed to the Tombs for trial, in which prison the guilty lady—the lawyer's wife, the leader of fashionable society—was confined, a degraded and fallen woman. Proceedings for a divorce were at once instituted by Mr. Stuyvesant, and the judicial tribunal freed him from his unfortunate alliance. He, however, became heartbroken and shortly after died, the disgrace wrecking his home and nearly driving him insane.
[A] French Beauty's Troubles.
A WALL STREET BROKER SUED FOR BREACH OF PROMISE AND OTHER BAD ACTS—A HANDSOME MILLINER LAYS HER DAMAGES AT TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS.
Twelve months before the proceedings in court, at the City of New Orleans, the presiding goddess of the most fashionable milliner's establishment of the place was Mary Blanchette. She was 21 years of age, tall, elegantly moulded, and possessed of a maturity of charms which made her seem three or four years older than she really was—with rich auburn hair, eyes of deep blue, large and rolling, and at times expressing an involuntary tenderness, which gave a voluptuous languor to her beautiful countenance. Her forehead was high and open; she had teeth of pearly whiteness, and possessed all the accomplishments which a French lady of ion need desire. It is not surprising, therefore, that Miss Blanchette should have captivated many admirers. Among those who paid homage at the shrine of beauty was a wealthy New York broker named Theodore Raub, who, possessing a handsome person, easy and elegant address, a melodious, yet manly voice, and a fascinating style of conversation, was received by the fair Marie with considerable favor, and he became a daily visitor, and ultimately her acknowledged lover.
Theodore Raub was a thorough man of the world, and deeply versed in all the mysteries and intricacies of the human heart: and especially was he an able anatomist of the female mind, which he could dissect and comprehend in an instant; and on the occasion of one of his visits to the beauteous French girl, after promising her marriage, the emotions which she experienced were not lost upon him. He perceived and deciphered them almost as soon as they had sprung into existence, and he saw in a moment that he had conquered. He had taken her hand, which she had not withdrawn, and when he pressed his burning kisses on her lips, the roseate blushes which suffused her cheeks were indicative of a deep and burning joy, and Raub well knew by the melting voluptuousness which beamed in her eyes that the hour had come when he could secure his victim.
Marie, awakening as it were from a dream, struggled to extricate herself, but he murmured impassioned words and vows and protestations in her ear, and with kisses he stifled the remonstrances and the beseechings which rose to her lips. But suddenly a strong sense of danger flashed into the mind of Marie; aye, and therewith a feeling that all this was wrong, very wrong; so that the virtuous principle which was innate in her woman's nature, asserted its empire that very instant. The immediate consequence was that, recovering all her presence of mind and casting off in a moment the voluptuous languor that had come over her, Marie tore herself from his embrace, exclaiming: