The clock's iron tongue,
in a neighboring belfry, proclaimed the hour of twelve, as the
truant and unfaithful husband seated himself by the side of his
devoted and loving wife, and inquired if she was not well.
"I am, dear Henry," replied Gertrude; "but I fear you are not. If
well in body, I fear you are not at peace in mind."
"Why?" inquired he.
"Because," she replied, "you are so pale and have such a wild look
in your eyes."
Again he protested his innocence, and vowed she was the only woman
who had any claim upon his heart. To behold one thus playing upon
the feelings of two lovely women is enough to make us feel that
evil must at last bring its own punishment.
Henry and Gertrude had scarcely risen from the breakfast-table next
morning ere old Mrs. Miller made her appearance. She immediately
took her daughter aside, and informed her of her previous night's
experience, telling her how she had followed Henry to Isabella's
cottage, detailing the interview with the quadroon, and her late
return home alone. The old woman urged her daughter to demand that
the quadroon and her child be at once sold to the negro
speculators and taken out of the State, or that Gertrude herself
should separate from Henry.
"Assert your rights, my dear. Let no one share a heart that justly
belongs to you," said Mrs. Miller, with her eyes flashing fire.
"Don't sleep this night, my child, until that wench has been
removed from that cottage; and as for the child, hand that over to
me,--I saw at once that it was Henry's.
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