found Pattmore with her. The sight of him
fondling my poor sister, was too much for me: and, although I succeeded
in restraining myself from doing him any personal violence, I used the
most severe language possible in characterizing his villainy, and in
expressing my contempt for him. I concluded, by telling him that the
affair must end then and there; that he must never address my sister
again, or attempt to see her; and that if he dared to disregard my
demand, he must take the consequences. They both hung their heads
guiltily, while I was speaking, and when I closed, Pattmore quitted the
room without a word. I found that he left town the same day.

"I also went out of the house immediately, being too excited to talk
calmly to Annie; but I returned after supper, and reasoned with her as
gently as possible on the impropriety and wickedness of her conduct. She
seemed to feel very sorry, and was so penitent that my hopes of saving
her, rose considerably. She promised, with tears in her eyes, to
overcome her unholy love for Pattmore, and never to see him again. I
noticed, however, that when I spoke of my efforts to obtain tidings of
Henry, she was very indifferent; but she promised to return to
Springfield with me as soon as she was able to travel, and matters began
to look more cheerful for the future.

"A day or two after, she received a letter from Pattmore, saying that
his wife was seriously ill, and that the physicians considered her life
in danger.

"'What is the matter with her?' I asked.

"'I don't know,' she replied; 'Mr. Pattmore does not state what is her
disease.'

"I then spoke very harshly about Pattmore, and said that he, above all
other men, was hateful to me, because he had ruined her. She replied in
his defense, and, as our conversation seemed likely to become bitter, I
walked out to allow time for both our tempers to cool off. On my return,
I found that Annie had gone out for the first time, since her illness,
but she soon came in, saying that she had taken a short walk for
exercise. She had regained her good humor, and seemed more like herself
than she had for sometime. She again brought up the subject of wills,
and I told her that I had made my will while I was in New Haven. She
asked me about it, and I told her that I had made her my sole legatee,
and that she would be in comfortable circumstances when I died. She
seemed very much pleased at this, and said I was a dear good brother;
but she hop