“You were very young, very confiding,” replied Smith. “Yet you had some experience in the perfidy of man: this should have made you cautious.” “Oh, my experience! it had been bitter—terrible!” murmured Zulima, clasping her hands, and gazing on the face of her visitor with a look of wild excitement. “And yet you trusted again!” Zulima stood up; her face grew white as death. “Do you mean to say, sir, that my husband—that Daniel Clark deceived me like the other?” “I mean to say nothing,” replied Smith; “nothing, save that from my heart I pity you, sweet lady. So much beauty, so trusting; who could help pitying you?” “You pity me? Oh, Father of mercies!” cried the excited young creature, bending like a reed and raising her locked hands to her eyes; “if this thing should be true!” She fell upon a chair; her slight figure waved to and fro in the agony of her doubts. “Has he written—did he send for you?” questioned Smith, steeling himself against her grief. “No, no!” “Is he aware of your coming?” “No; I shall surprise him; I wished to surprise him!” cried the wretched young creature, dropping her hands. “I am afraid you _will_ surprise him, and unpleasantly, too!” said Smith. Zulima turned her dry eyes upon him; her lips parted, but she had no power to utter the questions that arose in her heart. A thousand black doubts possessed her. “Why—why—?” It was all she could say. Smith hesitated; he was reluctant to consummate the last act of villainy required of him. It seemed like striking down a lamb, while its soft, trusting eyes were fixed upon his. But he had gone too far, he could not recede now. “It is rumored,” he said—“it is rumored that Mr. Clark is soon to be married!” A sort of spasmodic smile parted Zulima’s pale lips, till her white teeth shone through. She did not attempt to speak, but sat perfectly still gazing upon her visitor. “Had your marriage been real, Mr. Clark would not thus openly commit himself.” “Where _is_ Mr. Clark?” said Zulima, sharply, and starting, as if from a dream. “He is in Baltimore now.” “And—and the lady?” “She, too, is in Baltimore.” “And I—I will go there also!” “You! and after that which you know?” “If these things are true, I will have them from the lips of my—of Daniel Clark. If they are not true—Oh, Father of heaven! then will his wife lie down and die at his feet—die of sorrow that she has ever doubted him.” Smith was startled; he had not anticipated this resolute strength in a creature so young and child-like. Did she see Daniel Clark, he knew that all was lost to those whose interest it was to keep the husband and wife asunder. He attempted to dissuade Zulima from her plan, but this he saw only excited her suspicion without in the slightest degree changing her. All the answer that she made to his arguments was, “I will see my husband; I must have proof of these things!”