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Having finished and folded this epistle, she
once more returned to the tavern. A waiter informed
her that Craig had lately been in, and was
now gone out to spend the evening. Whither
had he gone? she asked.

How was he to know where gentlemen eat
their suppers? Did she take him for a witch?
What, in God's name, did she want with him
at that hour? Could she not wait, at least, till
he had done his supper? He warranted her pretty
face would bring him home time enough.

Constantia was not disconcerted at this address.
She knew that females are subjected,
through their own ignorance and cowardice, to a
thousand mortifications. She set its true value
on base and low-minded treatment. She disdained
to notice this ribaldry, but turned away
from the servant to meditate on this disappointment.

A few moments after, a young fellow smartly
dressed, entered the apartment. He was immediately
addressed by the other, who said to him,
Well, Tom, where's your master. There's a
lady wants him, pointing to Constantia, and laying
a grinning emphasis on the word lady. She
turned to the new-comer: Friend, are you Mr.
Craig's servant?

The fellow seemed somewhat irritated at the
bluntness of her interrogatory. The appellation
of servant sat uneasily, perhaps, on his pride, especially
as coming from a person of her appearance.
He put on an air of familiar ridicule, and
surveyed her in silence. She resumed, in an authoritative
tone, where does Mr. Craig spend
this evening? I have business with him of the
highest importance, and that will not bear delay.
I must see him this night.—He seemed preparing
to make some impertinent answer, but she anticipated
it. You had better answer me with decency.
If you do not, your master shall hear
of it.

This menace was not ineffectual. He began
to perceive himself in the wrong, and surlily muttered,
Why, if you must know, he is gone to
Mr. Ormond's. And where lived Mr. Ormond?
In Arch-Street; he mentioned the number on
her questioning him to that effect.

Being furnished with this information, she left
them. Her project was not to be thwarted by
slight impediments, and she forthwith proceeded
to Ormond's dwelling. Who was this Ormond?
she enquired of herself as she went along: whence
originated, and of what nature is the connection
between him and Craig? Are they united by
union of designs and sympathy of character, or is
this stranger a new subject on whom Craig is
practising his arts? The last supposition is not
impossible. Is it not my duty to disconcert his
machinations, and save a new victim from his
treachery? But I ought to be sure before I act.
He may now be honest, or tending to honesty,
and my interference may cast him backward, or
impede his progress.

The house to which she had been directed was
spacious and magnificent. She was answered

by a servant, whose uniform was extremely singular
and fanciful, and whose features and accents
bespoke him to be English, with a politeness
to which she knew that the simplicity of her
garb gave her no title. Craig, he told her, was
in the drawing-room above stairs. He offered to
carry him any message, and ushered her, meanwhile,
into a parlour. She was surprized at the
splendour of the room. The ceiling was painted
with a gay design, the walls stuccoed in relief,
and the floor covered with a Persian carpet,
with suitable accompaniments of mirrors, tables
and sofas.

Craig had been seated at the window above.
His suspicions were ever on the watch. He suddenly
espied a figure and face on the opposite side
of the street, which an alteration of garb and the
improvements of time, could not conceal from
his knowledge. He was startled at this incident,
without knowing the extent of its consequences.
He saw her cross the way opposite this house,
and immediately after heard the bell ring. Still
he was not aware that he himself was the object
of this visit, and waited, with some degree of
impatience, for the issue of this adventure.

Presently he was summoned to a person below,
who wished to see him. The servant shut
the door, as soon as he had delivered the message,
and retired.

Craig was thrown into considerable perplexity.
It was seldom that he was wanting in presence
of mind and dexterity, but the unexpectedness of
this incident, made him pause. He had not forgotten
the awful charms of his summoner. He
shrunk at the imagination of her rebukes. What
purpose could be answered by admitting her? It
was, undoubtedly, safest to keep at a distance,
but what excuse should be given for refusing this

interview? He was roused from his reverie by a
second and more urgent summons. The person
could not conveniently wait; her business was of
the utmost moment, and would detain him but a
few minutes.

The anxiety which was thus expressed to see
him, only augmented his solicitude to remain invisible.
He had papers before him which he had
been employed in examining. This suggested
an excuse. Tell her that I am engaged just now,
and cannot possibly attend to her. Let her leave
her business. If she has any message you may
bring it to me.

It was plain to Constance that Craig suspected
the purpose of her visit. This might have come
to his knowledge by means impossible for her to
divine. She now perceived the wisdom of the
precaution she had taken. She gave her letter
to the servant with this message: Tell him I
shall wait here for an answer, and continue to
wait till I receive one.

Her mind was powerfully affected by the criticalness
of her situation. She had gone thus far,
and saw the necessity of persisting to the end.
The goal was within view, and she formed a sort
of desperate determination not to relinquish the
pursuit. She could not overlook the possibility
that he might return no answer, or return an unsatisfactory
one. In either case, she was resolved
to remain in the house till driven from it by violence.
What other resolution could she form?
To return to her desolate home, penniless, was
an idea not to be endured.

The letter was received, and perused. His
conscience was touched, but compunction was a
guest, whose importunities he had acquired a peculiar
facility of eluding. Here was a liberal offer.
A price was set upon his impunity. A

small sum, perhaps, would secure him from all
future molestation.—She spoke, to be sure, in a
damned high tone. 'Twas a pity that the old
man should be hungry before snpper-time. Blind
too! Harder still, when he cannot find his way
to his mouth. Rent unpaid, and a flinty-hearted
landlord. A pretty pickle to be sure. Instant
payment she says. Won't part without it. Must
come down with the stuff. I know this girl:
When her heart is once set upon a thing, all the
devils will not turn her out of her way. She
promises silence. I can't pretend to bargain
with her. I'd as lief be ducked, as meet her face
to face. I know she'll do what she promises.
That was always her grand failing. How the
little witch talks! Just the dreamer she ever
was! Justice! Compassion! Stupid fool! One
would think she'd learned something of the world
by this time.

He took out his pocket book. Among the
notes it contained the lowest was fifty dollars.
This was too much, yet there was no alternative,
something must be given. She had detected his
abode, and he knew it was in the power of the
Dudleys to ruin his reputation, and obstruct his
present schemes. It was probable, that if they
should exert themselves, their cause would find
advocates and patrons. Still the gratuitous gift
of fifty dollars, sat uneasily upon his avarice. One
idea occurred to reconcile him to the gift.
There was a method he conceived of procuring
the repayment of it with interest. He inclosed
the note in a blank piece of paper and sent it
to her.

She received the paper, and opened it with
trembling fingers. When she saw what were its
contents, her feelings amounted to rapture. A
sum like this was affluence to her in her present

condition. At least it would purchase present
comfort and security. Her heart glowed with
exultation, and she seemed to tread with the
lightness of air, as she hied homeward. The
langour of a long fast, the numbness of the cold,
were forgotten. It is worthy of remark how
much of human accommodation was comprized
within this small compass; and how sudden was
this transition from the verge of destruction to the
summit of security.

Her first business was to call upon her landlord
and pay him his demand. On her return
she discharged the little debts she had been obliged
to contract, and purchased what was immediately
necessary. Wood she could borrow from
her next neighbour, and this she was willing to
do, now that she had the prospect of repaying it.