This fear keeps me awake nights, and makes my days miserable. Nor is this all; I have not tasted food since the day before yesterday." "Good God!" I exclaimed--"is it possible? Oh, accursed be the circumstances which have made us both so misfortunate; and doubly accursed be that scoundrel Livingston, the author of all your sorrows. By heavens! I will seek him out, and terribly punish him for his base conduct towards you. Yes, my dear Mrs. Raymond--for such I shall continue to call you, notwithstanding your marriage to that monster Livingston--rest assured that your wrongs shall be avenged.--The villain shall rue the day when he made a play-thing of a woman's heart, robbed her of her fortune, and then left her to poverty and despair!" [This language of mine may seem rather theatrical and romantic; but the reader will please to remember that I was only nineteen years of age at the time of its utterance--a period of life not remarkable for sobriety of language or discretion of conduct. Were that interview to take place _to-day_, I should probably thus express myself:--"My dear Mrs. Raymond, I advise you to forget the d----d rascal and put on the tea-kettle, while I rush out and negotiate for some _grub_!"] Mrs. Raymond gratefully pressed my hand, and said-- "I thank you for thus espousing my cause;--but, my dear friend, _mine_ must be the task of punishing the villain. No other hand but _mine_ shall strike the blow that will send his black, polluted soul into eternity!" These fierce words, which were pronounced with the strongest emphasis, caused me to look at my fair hostess with some degree of astonishment; and no wonder--for the quiet, elegant lady had been suddenly transferred into the enraged and revenge-thirsting woman. She looked superbly beautiful at that moment;--her cheeks glowed, her eyes sparkled, and her bosom heaved like the waves of a stormy sea. "Well," said I--"we will discuss that matter hereafter. Have the goodness to excuse my absence for a few minutes. I have a little errand to perform." She smiled, for she knew the nature of my errand. I went down stairs and walked up the street, in the greatest perplexity; for--let me whisper it into your ear, reader, I had not a sufficient amount of the current coin of the realm in my pockets to create a gingle upon a tomb-stone. "What the devil shall I do?" said I to myself--"here I have constituted myself the champion and protector of a hungry lady, and haven't enough money to purchase a salt herring! Shall I _show up_ my satin waistcoat? No, d----n it, that won't do, for I _must_ keep up appearances. Can't I borrow a trifle from some of my friends? No, curse them, they are all as poverty-stricken as I am! I have it!--I'll test the benevolence of some _gospel-wrestler_, and borrow the devil's impudence for the occasion."