who
declared his intention to shoot him if he ever saw him in New York.
The result of this baseness on the part of the young man was the
utter estrangement of his family. They threw him off entirely. But,
as he had a handsome fortune in his own right, and the cause of his
removal from New York did not become generally known, he soon found
his way into the best society in a neighbouring city. Some months
afterwards he married a lovely girl, who was all unconscious of the
base retch into whose keeping she had given the inestimable jewel
of her love. A few days since, the narration proceeded, the cousin,
by some means or other, obtained a knowledge of this fact. She
wrote to him demanding an interview, and threatening that if she
did not obtain one in twenty-four hours, she would immediately come
to him and ascertain for herself, if what she had heard were true.
Alarmed for the peace of his bride, the young man hurried on to New
York, and, at the risk of his life, gained an interview with the
lovely girl he had so deeply injured. He did not attempt to conceal
the fact of his marriage, but only urged the almost broken-hearted
victim of his base dishonour not to do anything that could bring to
his wife a knowledge of his conduct, as it must for ever destroy
her peace. This confession blasted at once and for ever all the
poor girl's hopes. She gave her betrayer one long, fixed, intense
look of blended agony, reproach, and shame, and then, without
uttering a word, retired slowly from his presence. She sought her
mother, who, from the first, had rather drawn her into her very
bosom than thrown her off harshly, and related what she had just
heard. She shed no tear, she uttered no reproach, but simply told
what her mother had known for months too well. That night her
spirit left its earthly habitation. Whether she died of a broken
heart, or by her own hands, is not known. The family sought not to
investigate the cause,--to them it was enough to know that she was
dead and at peace.

"Whether this statement ever met the eye of Mrs. Eaverson is more
than I can tell. I did not venture to call upon her after I had seen
it. A few weeks subsequently I met her in the street on the arm of
her husband. She was sadly changed, and had the appearance of one
just recovering from a long and severe illness. Eaverson himself had
a look of suffering.

"The notoriety given by the publication of the acts of his base
conduct in New York caused E