r before I
leave the country--to assure you that I am your lawful husband, lord
and master, who will never yield one jot or tittle of his rights to
mortal man or woman, but who will contest them, if need be, through
every court in the country; and, if driven to extremity, will defend
them at the sword's point. I refer you to your mother for proofs in
her possession--proofs which I gave her, and which must convince you
that our marriage was a perfectly regular and legal transaction, and
that you are, therefore, my lawful wife, and I exhort you to be wise,
prudent and faithful to your marriage bonds; for, be assured, I am not
one who will brook offense, but who will follow with swift, sharp
vengeance the slightest infringement of my rights. I remain, and I
intend to remain, until death, your husband,

Angus Anglesea.
"New York, December --, 18--."

When Mrs. Force had read this delectable epistle, she tossed it into the
fire, where it quickly blazed up and burned to ashes.

"There!" she said. "It is gone. Forget it, my dear. It was nothing but the
vain boast of a brute, a coward and a braggadocio! He is on the ocean now,
a fugitive from justice--yes, my dear, no less. He could not stay in this
country without the danger of being prosecuted for bigamy, and sent to the
State prison. He dared not stay and face that peril. In all human
probability, we shall never see him again."

"But, mamma, has he--can he have--any claim on me? He referred me to you
for proof that he has. What proof did he mean, mamma?" pleaded the girl.

"I do not believe that he has any claims on you, Odalite," gravely replied
the lady.

"But, mamma, do you know that he has not?" inquired poor Odalite, in an
access of anxiety.

"He has no claim that either the law or the gospel would sustain, or that
your father would admit for a single instant."

"Oh, mamma, but has he any? Oh, mother, dear mother, speak plainly to me!
He referred me to you for proofs that the marriage of last Tuesday was a
lawful one. What proofs? What did he mean, mother?" pleaded Odalite,
wringing her hands in growing doubt and distress.

"He meant to brag, to boast, to threaten to make you grieve, fear and
suffer--the brute, the poltroon, the miscreant!" hissed the lady, stamping
her foot.

"But, mother--oh, mother--the proofs, the proofs he spoke of!" persisted
Od