of the mother would
certainly have had such an effect. She regarded my passion as simply a
business affair. She would present me to her daughter that day, and I
might contract an engagement, if I would make certain liberal allowances
and settlements. But a recurrence to these matters creates disgust. It
is sufficient to say, that I surpassed in my provisions all the demands
of the mother's avarice, and in a few months Evelyn and I were married.

There was on the part of my beautiful bride an inexplicable
expression,--a demeanor in which cold and haughty reserve blended
strangely with an utter carelessness, and occasional rapidly checked
electric ebullitions of passion to the lip and eye, but never reaching
words, followed by a passive yet proud languor. I was too happy to
observe or speculate. I received merely the impression, but was too much
occupied in arranging for my wedded life, too much absorbed in the
feeling of bliss, to analyze it. I believed in her love,--that was
sufficient for me. In after years I resolved the impression into its
prismatic elements, and thus it is I am able to delineate them.

Time passed. The extravagance of my first raptures gradually subsided
into a more settled but not less complete happiness. In all her
attentions to myself my wife was perfect. In society she was supremely
brilliant and fascinating; in private her demeanor preserved the
characteristics of which I have spoken. I accepted it as her natural
manner, and did not give it further thought. My son Frederick was born,
and for a short time, under the influence of maternal impulses, my wife
exhibited animation and emotions which I had not before
witnessed,--soon, however, relapsing into her previous demeanor. The
same contrasts--less strongly marked--occurred upon the birth of my
daughter.

* * * * *

Returning one evening from business, at the usual dinner hour, I
visited, before entering my residence, as was frequently my custom, the
stables, and inquired, in passing, of the coachman--a favorite negro--if
he had driven his mistress out that afternoon. He replied,--

'No, massa; Missers' brudder on here; been wid her dese two hours.'

The answer created much surprise, as I had not been informed that my
wife had any relatives. A moment's reflection, however, on some of the
peculiar connections of theatrical life, led me to believe that such a
person might be in existence, who, for some unpleas