By the time she had concluded her narrative, it was full time for me to depart to my work. We hurriedly agreed to consult together about future plans upon my return in the evening, and I left her with an assurance that all my means and help were at her service. All that day her extraordinary story occupied my mind, and, though she was undoubtedly an artful and bold character, her uncommon spirit compelled my admiration, while her condition was such as to compel my sympathy. At the closing hour I sped homeward, but, on arriving at Mrs. Williams’s, I was told Alice had not been seen since the early morning. I waited many hours, but waited in vain. She was never seen, or heard of, by me again; but I have hoped ever since that Fate was as propitious to her, as I think it was wise, in separating two young and simple creatures, who might have been led, through excess of sentiment, into folly. The next Sabbath after the disappearance of Alice, I paid my usual visit to Mrs. Stanley, and was shocked and grieved to hear, from her maid, Margaret, that she was seriously ill, and under medical treatment. A glass of ice-water which she had taken on Friday had been speedily followed by alarming symptoms of illness. She was now so prostrated by disease that she required constant attendance. Margaret’s face betrayed so much fatigue and anxiety that I tendered my services, and even begged her to employ me in any way. After a little hesitation, she said I might be useful in enabling her to take a little rest, if I would sit at the door, and, upon any movement or sound within the sick chamber, call her. I kept my post all through the day and night, and, though there were frequent calls on Margaret, her snatches of rest served to maintain her strength. As I went off to my labour, I promised to solicit a few days’ leave from Mr. Ellison, and to return to her within the hour. Mr. Ellison, however, to whom I preferred my request for a few days’ liberty, affected to regard me as though I had uttered something very outrageous, and curtly told me I ‘might go to the D----, if I liked, and stay with him for good.’ Such an offensive reply, a few months earlier, would have made me shrink into myself; but the New Orleans atmosphere ripens one’s sense of independence and personal dignity, and I replied with something of the spirit that I had admired in Mr. Kennicy and Mr. Richardson, and said:-- ‘Very well, sir. You may discharge me at once!’ Of course, to a person of Mr. Ellison’s sanguinary hair and complexion, the answer was sufficient to ensure my furious dismissal on the instant.