woman
from accomplishing her deadly purpose.

It was a deeply interesting and thrilling scene, and one which I shall
never forget. There sat the intended victim, whose soul was hovering on
the awful precincts of an endless eternity; there stood the avenger of
her own wrongs, her right hand nervously grasping the hilt of the weapon
in her bosom, her face deadly pale, and her eyes flashing with wild
excitement. And there I stood, trembling with agitation, and ready to
spring forward at the proper time to prevent the consummation of a
bloody tragedy.

Mr. Livingston suddenly looked up from his letters, and started when he
beheld the pale and wrathful countenance of Mrs. Raymond, whose eyes
were fixed upon him with an expression of the most deadly hatred.

"Your face seems strongly familiar to me; have we not met before?" asked
Livingston.

"Yes," calmly replied Mrs. Raymond--"we _have_ met before."

"That voice!" cried the doomed villain--"surely I know it. Who are you,
and what want you with me?"

"I am the victim of your treacherous villainy, and I want revenge!"
screamed Mrs. Raymond, as, with the quickness of lightning, and before I
could prevent her, she drew her weapon and plunged it into the heart of
Livingston, who fell from his chair to the floor and died instantly.

"Now I am satisfied," said the woman, as she coolly wiped the blood from
the blade of her knife.

Language cannot depict the horror which the contemplation of this bloody
deed caused within me. True, I had myself slain a human being--but then
it was done in self-defence, and amid all the heat and excitement of a
personal contest. _This_ deed, on the contrary, had been committed,
coolly and deliberately; and, although Mrs. Raymond's wrongs were
undoubtedly very great, I really could not find it in my heart to
justify her in what she had done.

How bitterly I reproached myself for not having adopted some effectual
means of hindering the performance of that appalling deed, even at the
risk of incurring Mrs. Raymond's severe and eternal displeasure! I felt
myself to be in some measure an accessory to the crime; and I feared the
law would, at all events, consider me as such.

"What is done cannot be helped now," said I to Mrs. Raymond, who stood
calmly surveying the body of her victim--"come let us leave the house
and seek safety in flight. We may possibly escape the consequence of
this bloody act."

"No," said the woman--"_I_ shall not stir