Instantly Mrs. Livingstone’s fingers loosened their grasp, while her face grew livid with mingled passion and fear. Her fraud was discovered—her stratagem had failed—and she was foiled in this, her second darling scheme. But she was yet to learn what agency ’Lena had in the matter, and this information her husband obtained for her. There was no anger in the tones of his voice when he asked his niece to explain the mystery, else she might not have answered, for ’Lena could not be driven. Now, however, she felt that he had a right to know, and she told him all she knew; what she had done herself and why she had done it; that General Fontaine, to whom Malcolm had gone in his trouble, had kindly assisted him by lending both servants and carriage; but upon the intercepted letters she could throw no light. “’Twas a cursed act, and whoever was guilty of it is unworthy the name of either man or woman,” said Mr. Livingstone, while his eye rested sternly upon his wife. She knew that he suspected her, but he had no proof, and resolving to make the best of the matter, she, too, united with him in denouncing the deed, wondering who could have done it, and meanly suggesting Maria Fontaine, a pupil of Mr. Everett’s, who had, at one time, felt a slight preference for him. But this did not deceive her husband—neither did it help her at all in the present emergency. The bride was gone, and already she felt the tide of scandal and gossip which she knew would be the theme of the entire neighborhood. Still, if her own shameful act was kept a secret she could bear it, and it must be. No one knew of it except Captain Atherton and Cæsar, the former of whom would keep his own counsel, while fear of a passport down the river, the negroes’ dread, would prevent the latter from telling. Accordingly, her chagrin was concealed, and affecting to treat the whole matter as a capital joke, worthy of being immortalized in romance, she returned to her room, and hastily writing a few lines, rang the bell for Cæsar who soon appeared, declaring that “as true as he lived and breathed and drew the breath of life, he’d done gin miss every single letter afore handin’ ’em to anybody else.” “Shut your mouth and mind you keep it shut, or you’ll find yourself in New Orleans,” was Mrs. Livingstone’s very lady-like response, as she handed him the note, bidding him take it to Captain Atherton. For some reason or other the captain this morning was exceedingly restless, walking from room to room, watching the clock, then the sun, and finally, in order to pass the time away, trying on his wedding suit, to see how he was going to look! Perfectly satisfied with his appearance, he was in imagination going through the ceremony, and had just inclined his head in token that he would take Anna for his wife, when Mrs. Livingstone’s note was handed him. At first he could hardly believe the evidence of his own eyes.