Paul street, and from thence back and forth past the
restaurant, where the three deserted old maids might witness her stride
of triumph; while Bristol joined Fox at a retired spot under the shade
of the trees overhanging the brink of the precipice rising from the
gorge of the Genesee River, and explained the status of affairs which
had all unconsciously to himself drawn him from his quiet work into an
awful whirlpool of love and all that the term implied. Fox felt much
relieved at this information, and at once proceeded home, while Bristol,
with a guilty look in his face, returned to the little restaurant, where
he found a dispatch from me stating that Mrs. Winslow intended going to
Canada two days later, as I had been very positively informed by Le
Compte, and directing him to in some manner keep her company and never
let her make a move or meet a person without his knowledge.

Bristol hardly saw how he was to do this, but concluded that it might be
best to wait until after his interview with his charmer in the evening,
so that he could also forward the result of that with his regular
report; and after expressing unbounded regret at being obliged to part
from the three graces and a little card-party they had arranged, he
proceeded to Mrs. Winslow's apartments, which had seemingly been
specially arranged for his reception.

The mistress of the place was most elegantly attired, and greeted the
"retired banker" with such grace and marked esteem, that Fox, at his
lonely window opposite, almost felt jealous of the attention bestowed
upon his comrade by their mutual quarry.

If ever a woman endeavored to make herself irresistibly winning, it was
Mrs. Winslow on that night. She threw off all reserve at once, and was
all smiles, pleasant words, and pretty ways. The rooms were most
beautifully arranged, and where splendid flowers failed to furnish
aroma, the delicate odors of art took their place. A very shrewd woman
was Mrs. Winslow--a woman who was supreme in the art of providing
_bijouterie_ to appeal to the sensuous in men's natures. In her
conversation, which apparently was lady-like enough when guarded, there
was always more suggested than said. The tone, the smile, the eye, the
gesture, the touch--every movement, glance, or sound, betokened an
unexpressed _something_ ready at any moment to be brought forward to
crush down a weakening resolution, and sweep from existence so much of
good or purity as might come into her