s's wife. However, the ladies all treated me with
so much cordiality and politeness that I set New York down at once as a
delightful spot.

Happening to speak of Mrs. Lewis, I saw that the corners of Mrs. Jones's
mouth went immediately down, and Mrs. Smith's eyebrows immediately up.
Of course, no woman is going to stand that; and I inquired minutely
enough to satisfy myself either that Mrs. Lewis was very peculiar, or
that a boarding-house was not a favorable atmosphere for character. My
husband, to whom I told all they said, considered "the abundant leisure
from family-cares which these ladies enjoyed as giving them
opportunities for investigation which they carried to excess."

"But think of Gus not being Mr. Lewis's child!" said I, after faithfully
relating all I had heard.

"He looks like an Italian. I always thought so. But Lewis seems very
fond of him."

"Yes, they said so. But that the mother cared nothing for him, nor for
her other children, who are off in Genesee County somewhere."

"For health, doubtless," said my "he," dryly.

"And the way they talked of Mr. Remington! calling him George, and more
than insinuating that she likes too well to be at the Oaks,--that is his
place. They say she has been there all the time Mr. Lewis has been
gone!"

"Mr. Remington has been gone too, as you and I can testify," more dryly.

"So he has. I wish I had thought to tell them so."

I hadn't been in a boarding-house for nothing.

"It was like Lewis to take her as he did. Very noble and generous, too,
even supposing he loved her. I dare say he does. Is Montalli dead?"

"I don't know. I think so. At all events, they were divorced, and for
his cruelty. Only think of a lady, a young lady, not sixteen, and the
darling and idol at home, being beaten and pounded! Ugh! what horrid
creatures Italians are!"

"And you say Lewis happened to be in Mobile at the time?"

"Yes, and fell in love with her,--she, scarcely eighteen, and to have
had this shocking experience! I don't like to tell you how much these
ladies have hinted about her, but enough to make me feel as if I were
reading the "Mysteries of Udolpho," instead of hearing of a live woman,
out of a book, and belonging to our own time."

"Very likely she may have amused herself at the expense of their
credulity. I have seen women do that, just for sport, and to see how
much people would believe. It is a dangerous game to play."

Mr. Lewis came to dinner, and brought