the times, and could
not pay her rent, she not only abused me dreadfully, but annoyed me by
making the most infamous suggestions, proposing that I should embrace a
life of prostitution, and offering to procure me plenty of 'patrons.' I,
of course, indignantly repelled the horrible proposals--but, would you
believe it? she actually introduced into my apartment an old,
gray-haired and well-dressed libertine, for a purpose which you can
easily imagine. The old villain, however, decamped when I displayed a
small dagger, and declared that I would kill myself rather than become
his victim. This conduct of mine still further incensed my landlady
against me; and I expect every moment to be turned out into the street.
It is true that I might raise a small sum of money by the sale of my
harp, which is a very superior instrument, but as it was the gift of my
first husband, I cannot endure the thought of parting with it, for there
are associated with it some of the fondest recollections of my life. I
am sure that if those kind Quaker ladies had known the character of this
house and the neighborhood around it, they would not have placed me
here. Heaven only knows what I have suffered, and still suffer. I live
in constant dread that some ruffian, instigated by my landlady, who
wishes to gratify both her avarice and malignity, may break in upon me
some time when I am off my guard, and make me the victim of a brutal
outrage. 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 p