"This is at your service. Take whatever you need."
Mrs. Lane thanked him, but drew back.
"Only get me into some safe place, until I can write to my friends,"
said she, "and you would lay both them and me under the deepest
obligations."
The man arose at this, and stepping into the bar room, desired the
bar-keeper to send for a carriage. From a stand near by one was
called. When it came to the door, he informed Mrs. Lane of the fact,
and asked if she were ready to go.
"Where will you take me?" she asked.
"To the United States Hotel," replied the man. "You could not be in
a safer or better place."
On hearing this, Mrs. Lane arose without hesitation, and, going from
the house, entered the carriage with the man, and was driven away.
Drawing her veil over her face, she shrank into a corner of the
vehicle, and remained in sad communion with her own thoughts for
many minutes. From this state of abstraction, the stopping of the
carriage aroused her. The driver left his seat and opened the door,
when her companion stepped forth, saying as he did so--
"This is the place," and offering at the same time his hand.
As Mrs. Lane descended to the street, she glanced with a look of
anxious inquiry around her. Already a suspicion that all might not
be right was disturbing her mind. Two years before she had been in
Philadelphia, and had stayed several days at the United States
Hotel. She remembered the appearance of the building and the street,
but now she did not recognise a single object. All was strange.
"Is this the United States Hotel?" she asked eagerly.
"Oh, yes, ma'am," was the smiling reply. "We are at the private
entrance."
Her bewildered mind was momentarily deceived by this answer, and she
permitted herself to be led into a house, which she soon discovered
not to be an hotel. The most dreadful suspicions instantly seized
her. So soon as she was shown into a parlour, the man retired. A
woman came in shortly afterwards, who, from her appearance, seemed
to be the mistress of the house. She spoke kindly to Mrs. Lane, and
asked if she would walk up into her room.
"There has been some mistake," said the poor wanderer, her lips
quivering in spite of her efforts to assume a firm exterior.
"Oh, no, none at all," quickly replied the woman, smiling.
"Yes, yes there is. I am not in the hotel where I wished to go. Why
have I been brought here? Where is the man with whom I came?"
"He has gone away; but will return again. In the mean time do not
causelessly distress yourself. You are safe from all harm."
"But I am not where I wished to go," replied Mrs. Lane. "Will you be
kind enough to give me the direction of the United States Hotel, and
I will walk there with my child."
The woman shook her head.
"I could not permit you to go until Mr. Bond returned," said she.
"He brought you here, and will expect to find you when he comes
back."
"I will not remain." And as she said this in a firm voice, Mrs. Lane
arose, and, taking her little girl in her arms, made an attempt to
move through the door into the passage. But the woman stepped before
her quickly, and in a mild, yet decided way, told her that she could
not leave the house.
"Why not?" asked the trembling creature.
"Mr. Bond has placed you in my care, and will expect to find you on
his return," answered the woman.
"Who is Mr. Bond? What right has he to control my movements?"
"Did you not place yourself in his care?" inquired the woman. "I
understood him to say that such was the case."
"He offered to protect me from wrong and insult."
"And, having undertaken to do so, he feels himself responsible to
your friends for your safe return to their hands. I am responsible
to him."
"Deceived! deceived! deceived!" murmured Mrs. Lane, bursting into
tears and sinking into a chair, while she hugged her child tightly
in her arms, and laid its face against her own.
The woman seemed slightly moved at this exhibition of distress, and
stood looking at the quivering frame of the unhappy fugitive, with a
slight expression of regret on her face. After Mrs. Lane had grown
calm, the woman said to her:
"Is your husband living?"
"He is," was answered, in a steady voice.
"Where does he reside?" continued the woman.
"In New York," replied Mrs. Lane.
"What is his name?"
Mrs. Lane reflected, hurriedly, for some moments, and then gave a
correct answer, adding, at the same time, that for any attempted
wrong, there would come a speedy and severe retribution. The next
inquiry of the woman was as to her husband's occupation, which was
also answered correctly.
"And now," added Mrs. Lane, with assumed firmness, "you had better
let me retire from this place immediately, and thus avoid trouble,
which, otherwise, you would be certain to have. My husband is a
merchant of influence, and a man who will not stop at half measures
in seeking to redress a wrong. This man, whoever he may be, who has
so basely deceived me, will find, ere long, that he has done an act
which will hot go unpunished, and that severely. As for yourself, be
warned in time, and let me go from this place."
Again Mrs. Lane sought to pass from the room, but was prevented. The
woman was neither harsh, rude, nor insulting in her manner, but
firmly refused to let her leave the house, saying--"I am responsible
for your safe keeping, and cannot, therefore, let you go."
She then urged her to go up-stairs and lay off her things, but Mrs.
Lane refused, in the most positive manner, to leave the parlour.
"You will be more comfortable in the chamber we have prepared for
you," said the woman, coldly; "but you must do as you like. If you
want any thing, you can ring for it."
And saying this, she turned from the room, and locked the door
through which she retired. The instant she was gone, Mrs. Lane
sprang towards one of the front windows, threw it up and attempted
to draw the bolt which fastened the shutter; but her effort was not
successful: the bolt remained immovable. On a closer inspection, she
found that it was locked. The back window was open, but a glance
into the yard satisfied her that it would be useless to attempt
escape in that way. Hopeless in mind and paralyzed in body, she
again sank down inactive.
Little Mary, who had been left standing on the floor during this
effort to escape, now came up to where she had thrown herself upon a
sofa, and, laying her little face upon her breast, looked tearfully
at her, and said, in a low, sorrowful voice--"Won't papa come? I
want my papa--my dear papa."
Not a word could the mother reply to her unhappy child, who, in her
folly, she had so wronged. Oh, what would she not have given at that
moment to see the face of her husband!
Five or six hours had passed. In a small sitting room, near the
parlour in which Mrs. Lane was still a prisoner, stood the man named
Bond, and the woman who had received her.
"Mrs. Lane did you say she called herself?" said the man, with a
sudden change of manner--"and from New York?"
"Yes."
"Did you inquire her husband's business?"
"She said he was a merchant of standing, and threatened both you and
me with the severest consequences, if she were not instantly
released."
"Can it be possible!" remarked the man, and he stood in a musing
attitude for some time. "I'm a little afraid this affair is not
going to turn out quite so pleasantly as I at first supposed. I
think I know her husband."
"You do!"
"Yes. We have had several business transactions together, if he is
the individual I suppose him to be."
"Then you had better get her off of your hands as quickly as
possible; and this will be no hard matter. Only open the cage-door,
and the bird will fly."
"Confound that Irish huzzy! She and her John Murphy have scared up a
nice bit of adventure for me."
"Both you and they ought to have known better than to expect any
thing but trouble from a woman with a baby. As it is, the best thing
for you is to get her off of your hands forthwith."
"I don't like to give up after progressing so far. It isn't my
disposition."
"A wise man foresees evil, and gets out of its way."
"True; and my better course is to step aside, I suppose. But what
shall we do with her?"
"Open the cage-door, as I said, and let her escape."
"Where will she go?"
"Have you any concern on that head?"
"Some. Moreover, I don't just comprehend the meaning of her visit
here alone at night, and without money. I wonder if, after all,
there isn't a lover in the case, who has failed to meet her."
"Most likely," returned the woman.
"In that event, why may not I take his place?"
"It will require her consent. Better have nothing more to do with
her, and thus keep out of the way of trouble.
"Her husband, if she be the wife of the man I think she is," said
Bond, "will hardly stop at half-way measures in an affair like
this."
"So much the more reason for keeping out of his way."
"Perhaps so; and yet I like adventure, especially when spiced with a
little danger. Upon second thought, I'll let her remain here until
to-morrow."
"Just as you like. But I've been unable to get her up-stairs; and
she can't stay in the parlour all night."
"No. She must go to the chamber you have prepared for her."
"How will we get her there?"
"Use every effort you can to induce her to comply with our wishes in
this respect. I will come in after nightfall, and, if you have not
been successful, will remove her by force."
With this understanding, the partners in evil separated.
Soon after parting with Mr. Edmondson, who had informed Mr. Lane
that his wife was no longer at his house, and when the latter had
begun to feel exceedingly anxious, he met a gentleman who said to
him, "When do you expect Mrs. Lane back?"
It was with difficulty that the deserted husband could refrain from
the exhibition of undue surprise at such an unexpected question.
"I was over the river yesterday afternoon with a friend who was on
his way to Philadelphia," added the man, "and saw your lady in the
cars."
"Good morning," said Mr. Lane, as he looked at his watch, and then
turned away with a hurried manner.
It was half-past eleven o'clock. At twelve a line started for the
South. Lane was on board the steamboat when it left the dock. Six
hours and a half of most intense anxiety were passed ere the unhappy
man reached Philadelphia. On arriving, he took a carriage and
visited all the principal hotels, but not a word could he hear of
his wife. He then bethought him to make some inquiries of the
hackman whom he had employed.
"Were you at the wharf last night when the New York line came in?"
he asked, as he stood with his hand on the carriage-door, after
leaving one of the hotels, again disappointed in his search.
"I was," replied the hackman.
"Did you get any passengers?"
"No, sir."
"Did you see any thing of a lady with a child?"