We arrived at home toward the close of a September day. My mother met me at the door, calm and smiling. She gave me her hand--but I pushed it gently away. Wareham led me up the steps. I stood once more in that house, from which I had gone forth, like one walking in their sleep. And that night, in our chamber, Wareham and myself held a conversation, which had an important bearing on his life and mine. I was sitting alone in my chamber, dressed in a white wrapper, and my hair flowing unconfined upon my shoulders; my hands were clasped and my head bent upon my breast. I was thinking of the events of the last three months, of all that I had endured from the man whose very presence in the same room, filled me with loathing. My husband entered, followed by Jenkins, who placed a lighted candle, a bottle of wine and glasses on the table, and then retired. "What, is my pretty girl all alone, and in a thinking mood?" cried Wareham, seating himself by the table and filling a glass with wine; "and pray, my love, what is the subject of your thoughts?" And raising the glass to his lips, he surveyed me from head to foot with that gloating gaze which always gave a singular light to his eyes. His face was slightly flushed on the colorless cheeks. He had already been drinking freely, and was now evidently under the influence of wine. "You have a fine bust, my girl," he continued, as though he was repeating the "points" of a horse; "a magnificent arm, a foot that beats the Medicean Venus all hollow, and limbs,--" he paused and sipped his wine, protruding his nether lip which now was scarlet red,--"such limbs! I like the expression of your eyes--there's fire in them, and your clear brown complexion, and your moist red lips, and,--" he sipped his wine again,--"altogether an elegantly built female." And he rose and approached me. I also rose, my eyes flashing and my bosom swelling with suppressed rage. "Wareham, I warn you not to touch me," I said in a low voice. "For three months I have been your prey. I will be so no longer. Before the world you may call me wife, if you choose--you have bought the right to do that--but I inform you, once for all, that henceforth we are strangers. Do you understand me, Wareham? I had as lief be chained to a corpse as to submit to be touched by you." He fell back startled, his face manifesting surprise and anger, but in an instant his gaze was upon me again, and he indulged in a low burst of laughter. "Come, I like this! It is a pleasant change from the demure, pious girl of three months ago to the full-blown tragedy queen." He sank into a chair and filled another glass of wine. "Be seated, Frank, I want to have a little talk with my pet." I resumed my seat. "You give yourself airs under the impression that you are my wife,--joint owner of my immense fortune,--my rich widow in perspective. Erroneous impression, Frank. I have a wife living in England."