_A deed of blood and horror._
We had no difficulty in ascertaining the place of Livingston's abode;
for he was well known in the city. He resided in a handsome house
situated on one of the principal streets; and we discovered that the
lawless rascal was actually engaged in the practice of the law!
"My dear friend," said Mrs. Raymond to me one day, as we were strolling
along the banks of the river, "I will not suffer you to involve yourself
in any trouble on my account. You must have nothing to do with this
Livingston. You must remain entirely in the back-ground. To me belongs
the task of punishing him. I tell you frankly that I shall kill the man.
He is not fit to live, and he must not be permitted to continue his
career of villainy. Whatever may be my fate, do not, I entreat you, by
unhappy on my account. When I have shed the heart's blood of Livingston,
I shall be willing to die upon the scaffold. To the very last moment of
my life, I shall cherish for you a sentiment of the most affectionate
gratitude; you sacrificed all your own plans in order to accompany me
here, and, throughout the entire long journey, you have treated me with
a degree of kindness and attention, which I can never forget while life
remains. But a truce to melancholy; let us change the subject."
"With all my heart," said I; and leaving the river side, we walked up
into the centre of the city.
We passed an elegant dwelling-house on the door of which was a silver
plate bearing the name "Livingston." This was the residence of the
villain who ruined Mrs. Raymond.
A carriage drove up before the door, and from it leaped a tall,
fine-looking man, dressed in the height of fashion. He assisted a
beautiful and elegantly attired lady to alight from the vehicle, and
conducted her into the house.
"That man is Livingston, and that woman must be _one of his wives_,"
said Mrs. Raymond, with a bitter smile, as she placed her hand in her
bosom, where, I knew, she carried a dirk-knife.
"My friend," resumed she, after a pause, "leave me; I may as well
perform my bloody task now, as at any other time. I will invent some
pretext for requesting an interview with Livingston, and then, without
uttering a single word, I will stab him to the heart. Farewell, forget
me, and be happy!"
"Stay," said I--"you must not leave me thus. Let me persuade you to
abandon, at least for the present, your terrible design with reference
to Livingston. You are agitated, excited; wait until you are cool, and
capable of sober reflections."
Mrs. Raymond regarded me with a look of anger, as she said,
passionately--
"And was it for the purpose of giving me such advice as _this_, that you
accompanied me from Philadelphia to this city? You knew, all the while,
the object of my journey, and yet now, in the eleventh hour, when an
excellent opportunity presents itself for the accomplishment of that
object, you seek to dissuade me from my purpose. Have I entirely
mistaken your character? Are you really as weak-minded, and as devoid of
courage and spirit, as your language would seem to indicate? When that
young ruffian mutilated you in Philadelphia, didn't you consider that
you acted perfectly right? Well, this Livingston has destroyed the
happiness of my life, and transformed me from a lady of wealth into a
penniless beggar. Say does he not deserve to _die_?"
"Why--yes," was my reluctant reply--"but then it seems too terrible to
go about the horrible business deliberately, and in cold blood."
"He coolly and deliberately planned and effected the ruin of my peace,
happiness and fortune," rejoined Mrs. Raymond, in a tone of fixed
determination--"and it is therefore but just that he should be coolly
and deliberately slain. Once more, farewell; by everything sacred, I
swear that you shall not turn me from my purpose. My regard for you is
great--but, if you seek to detain me by force, your heart shall be made
acquainted with the point of my knife!"
"I have no idea of using force," said I, reproachfully--"but, if I
_had_, no such threat as the one which you have just now made, would
deter me. Go, my friend, go--do as you will; but I will go with you, for
I swear that I will not leave you."
This announcement deeply affected Mrs. Raymond, who embraced me and
begged my pardon for the language which she had used.
"Forgive me, my best, my only friend," said she--"the loyalty and
devotion which you have always manifested towards me should have
prompted different expressions.--If you are _determined_ to accompany
me, and see me through this business, _follow me_."
I obeyed, hoping to be able to prevent the perpetration of the terrible
deed which she meditated.
She rang the bell at the door, which was opened by a servant.
"I wish to see your master, instantly, on particular business," said the
disguised woman.
"What name, sir?" demanded the servant.
"It matters not. Say to Mr. Livingston that two gentlemen wish to see
him on business of the greatest importance."
The servant disappeared, but soon returned, saying that she would
conduct us to her master.
We followed her into a handsomely furnished library, where Mr.
Livingston was seated, looking over some letters. He glanced at us
carelessly, and said--
"Well, young gentlemen, what can I do for you to-day? Do you wish to
consult me on any matter of law? I am entirely at your service."
It was evident that the villain did not recognize the woman whom he had
so basely wronged.
Mrs. Raymond uttered not one single word, but, thrusting her hand into
her bosom, she slowly approached the author of her ruin, who still
continued to peruse his letters in entire unconsciousness of the
terrible danger that hung over him.
I watched Mrs. Raymond with the closest attention, fully determined to
spring forward at the critical moment and prevent the desperate woman
from accomplishing her deadly purpose.
It was a deeply interesting and thrilling scene, and one which I shall
never forget. There sat the intended victim, whose soul was hovering on
the awful precincts of an endless eternity; there stood the avenger of
her own wrongs, her right hand nervously grasping the hilt of the weapon
in her bosom, her face deadly pale, and her eyes flashing with wild
excitement. And there I stood, trembling with agitation, and ready to
spring forward at the proper time to prevent the consummation of a
bloody tragedy.
Mr. Livingston suddenly looked up from his letters, and started when he
beheld the pale and wrathful countenance of Mrs. Raymond, whose eyes
were fixed upon him with an expression of the most deadly hatred.
"Your face seems strongly familiar to me; have we not met before?" asked
Livingston.
"Yes," calmly replied Mrs. Raymond--"we _have_ met before."
"That voice!" cried the doomed villain--"surely I know it. Who are you,
and what want you with me?"
"I am the victim of your treacherous villainy, and I want revenge!"
screamed Mrs. Raymond, as, with the quickness of lightning, and before I
could prevent her, she drew her weapon and plunged it into the heart of
Livingston, who fell from his chair to the floor and died instantly.
"Now I am satisfied," said the woman, as she coolly wiped the blood from
the blade of her knife.
Language cannot depict the horror which the contemplation of this bloody
deed caused within me. True, I had myself slain a human being--but then
it was done in self-defence, and amid all the heat and excitement of a
personal contest. _This_ deed, on the contrary, had been committed,
coolly and deliberately; and, although Mrs. Raymond's wrongs were
undoubtedly very great, I really could not find it in my heart to
justify her in what she had done.
How bitterly I reproached myself for not having adopted some effectual
means of hindering the performance of that appalling deed, even at the
risk of incurring Mrs. Raymond's severe and eternal displeasure! I felt
myself to be in some measure an accessory to the crime; and I feared the
law would, at all events, consider me as such.
"What is done cannot be helped now," said I to Mrs. Raymond, who stood
calmly surveying the body of her victim--"come let us leave the house
and seek safety in flight. We may possibly escape the consequence of
this bloody act."
"No," said the woman--"_I_ shall not stir an inch. I have relieved the
world of a monster, and now I am ready to receive my reward, even if it
be the scaffold. But go, my friend--go, and secure your own safety."
"No, I will not leave you, even if I have to share your fate," was my
reply. That was a very foolish determination, I admit; for how could my
remaining with her, do her any good? I was merely placing myself in a
position of the utmost peril. But I thought it wrong to desert Mrs.
Raymond in that dark and trying hour; and therefore, as she refused to
escape, I resolved to remain with her.
Some one softly opened the door, and a female voice said--
"My dear, are you particularly engaged? May I come in?"
Hearing no reply, the fair speaker entered with a smile on her rosy
lips. This lady was the newly-made wife of Livingston. She had been, of
course, in happy ignorance of his true character, and of the fact that
he was already the husband of several wives.
On seeing us, she evinced surprise, for she knew not of her husband
having visitors. Suddenly, her eyes fell upon Livingston's bleeding
corpse, which lay upon the floor. On seeing this horrid spectacle, she
gave utterance to a piercing scream, and fell down insensible.
That shrill, agonizing scream penetrated every part of the house, and
brought all the inmates to the library, to see what had happened. Horror
took possession of the group, as they gazed upon the awful scene. For a
few minutes, there reigned the most profound silence. This was at last
broken by one of the male servants, who demanded--
"Who has done this?"
"I did it," replied Mrs. Raymond, calmly, "I alone am guilty. Here is
the weapon with which I did the deed. This young man here is entirely
innocent; he tried to prevent the act, but I was too quick for him. Let
me be conveyed at once to prison."
Officers being sent for, soon arrived and took us both into custody,
notwithstanding the passionate protestations of Mrs. Raymond that I had
no hand whatever in the affair.
"That must be shown to the satisfaction of higher authorities than we
are," said one of the officers. "At all events, it is our duty to secure
this young man as a witness. If he is innocent, he will doubtless be
able to prove it."
Half an hour afterwards, I was an inmate of the Pittsburg jail, in an
apartment adjoining that occupied by Mrs. Raymond, whose real sex still
remained undiscovered.