moment of
my life, I shall cherish for you a sentiment of the most affectionate
gratitude; you sacrificed all your own plans in order to accompany me
here, and, throughout the entire long journey, you have treated me with
a degree of kindness and attention, which I can never forget while life
remains. But a truce to melancholy; let us change the subject."

"With all my heart," said I; and leaving the river side, we walked up
into the centre of the city.

We passed an elegant dwelling-house on the door of which was a silver
plate bearing the name "Livingston." This was the residence of the
villain who ruined Mrs. Raymond.

A carriage drove up before the door, and from it leaped a tall,
fine-looking man, dressed in the height of fashion. He assisted a
beautiful and elegantly attired lady to alight from the vehicle, and
conducted her into the house.

"That man is Livingston, and that woman must be _one of his wives_,"
said Mrs. Raymond, with a bitter smile, as she placed her hand in her
bosom, where, I knew, she carried a dirk-knife.

"My friend," resumed she, after a pause, "leave me; I may as well
perform my bloody task now, as at any other time. I will invent some
pretext for requesting an interview with Livingston, and then, without
uttering a single word, I will stab him to the heart. Farewell, forget
me, and be happy!"

"Stay," said I--"you must not leave me thus. Let me persuade you to
abandon, at least for the present, your terrible design with reference
to Livingston. You are agitated, excited; wait until you are cool, and
capable of sober reflections."

Mrs. Raymond regarded me with a look of anger, as she said,
passionately--

"And was it for the purpose of giving me such advice as _this_, that you
accompanied me from Philadelphia to this city? You knew, all the while,
the object of my journey, and yet now, in the eleventh hour, when an
excellent opportunity presents itself for the accomplishment of that
object, you seek to dissuade me from my purpose. Have I entirely
mistaken your character? Are you really as weak-minded, and as devoid of
courage and spirit, as your language would seem to indicate? When that
young ruffian mutilated you in Philadelphia, didn't you consider that
you acted perfectly right? Well, this Livingston has destroyed the
happiness of my life, and transformed me from a lady of wealth into a
penniless beggar. Say does he not deserve to _die_?"

"Why--yes," was my reluctant reply-