bitually
received, while smilingly obeying, his marital authority.

Poole, vanishing into his study, carefully closed his door, and would
have caught his lady visitor by both her hands; but she waived him back,
and, declining a seat, remained sternly erect.

"Mr. Poole, I have but a few words to say. The letters which gave
Jasper Losely the power to extort money from you are no longer in his
possession; they are in mine. You need fear him no more--you will fee
him no more."

"Oh!" cried Poole, falling on his knees, "the blessing of a father of a
family--a babe not six weeks born--be on your blessed, blessed head!"

"Get up, and don't talk nonsense. I do not give you these papers at
present, nor burn them. Instead of being in the power of a muddled,
irresolute drunkard, you are in the power of a vigilant, clear-brained
woman. You are in my power, and you will act as I tell you."

"You can ask nothing wrong, I am sure," said Poole, his grateful
enthusiasm much abated. "Command me; but the papers can be of no use to
you; I will pay for them handsomely."

"Be silent and listen. I retain these papers-first, because Jasper
Losely must not know that they ever passed to my hands; secondly,
because you must inflict no injury on Losely himself. Betray me to him,
or try to render himself up to the law, and the documents will be used
against you ruthlessly. Obey, and you have nothing to fear, and nothing
to pay. When Jasper Losely calls on you tomorrow, ask him to show you
the letters. He cannot; he will make excuses. Decline peremptorily,
but not insultingly (his temper is fierce), to pay him farther. He
will perhaps charge you with having hired some one to purloin his
pocket-book; let him think it. Stop--your window here opens on the
ground--a garden without:--Ah! have three of the police in that garden,
in sight of the window. Point to them if he threaten you; summon them to
your aid, or pass out to them, if he actually attempt violence. But when
he has left the house, you must urge no charge against him; he must be
let off unscathed. You can be at no loss for excuse in this mercy;
a friend of former times--needy, unfortunate, whom habits of
drink maddened for the moment--necessary to eject him--inhuman to
prosecute--any story you please. The next day you can, if you choose,
leave London for a short time; I advise it. But his teeth will be drawn;
he will most probably never trouble you again. I know his character.
There,