sity and candour of my
nature!

"How am I to introduce myself? What am I to tell her? That I was a sort
of witness to the murder of her husband? That I received from the hand
of his assassin the letter which I afterwards transmitted to her? and,
from the same hands, the bills contained in his girdle?

"How will she start and look aghast! What suspicions will she harbour?
What inquiries shall be made of me? How shall they be disarmed and
eluded, or answered? Deep consideration will be necessary before I trust
myself to such an interview. The coming night shall be devoted to
reflection upon this subject."

From these thoughts I proceeded to inquiries for the street mentioned in
the advertisement, where Mrs. Watson was said to reside. The street,
and, at length, the habitation, was found. Having reached a station
opposite, I paused and surveyed the mansion. It was a wooden edifice of
two stories, humble, but neat. You ascended to the door by several stone
steps. Of the two lower windows, the shutters of one were closed, but
those of the other were open. Though late in the evening, there was no
appearance of light or fire within.

Beside the house was a painted fence, through which was a gate leading
to the back of the building. Guided by the impulse of the moment, I
crossed the street to the gate, and, lifting the latch, entered the
paved alley, on one side of which was a paled fence, and on the other
the house, looking through two windows into the alley.

The first window was dark like those in front; but at the second a light
was discernible. I approached it, and, looking through, beheld a plain
but neat apartment, in which parlour, kitchen, and nursery seemed to be
united. A fire burned cheerfully in the chimney, over which was a
tea-kettle. On the hearth sat a smiling and playful cherub of a boy,
tossing something to a black girl who sat opposite, and whose innocent
and regular features wanted only a different hue to make them beautiful.
Near it, in a rocking-chair, with a sleeping babe in her lap, sat a
female figure in plain but neat and becoming attire. Her posture
permitted half her face to be seen, and saved me from any danger of
being observed.

This countenance was full of sweetness and benignity, but the sadness
that veiled its lustre was profound. Her eyes were now fixed upon the
fire and were moist with the tears of remembrance, while she sung, in
low and scarcely-audible strains, an artless lullaby.