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The Subterranean Cellar—Capture and Imprisonment of the Black—the Outcast Wife—The Villain Husband—the Murder and Arrest.

The next day after the occurrence of the events detailed in the last chapter, Frank Sydney caused to be conveyed to the negro footman, Nero, the letter which his wife had addressed to him—which letter it will be recollected, had been stolen from the lady, in her reticule, by the young thief, who had sold it and another epistle from the black, to Frank, at the crib of Bloody Mike.

The plan adopted by the much injured husband for the punishment of his guilty wife and her negro paramour, will be developed in the course of the present chapter.

The black, upon receiving the letter, imagined that it came direct from the lady herself; and much rejoiced was he at the contents, resolving that very night to watch for the signal in the chamber window of the amorous fair one.

Beneath the building in which Frank resided, was a deep stone cellar, originally designed as a wine vault; it was built in the most substantial manner, the only entrance being protected by a massive iron door—the said door having been attached in order to prevent dishonest or dissolute servants from plundering the wine. In the course of the day upon which he had sent the letter to Nero, Frank paid a visit to this cellar, and having examined it with great care, said to himself—'This will answer the purpose admirably.'

He then summoned Dennis and the Kinchen—the latter of whom he retained in his service—and desired them to remove the few bottles and casks of wine which still remained in the cellar and deposit them elsewhere.—This being done, a quantity of straw was procured and thrown in one corner, and then the arrangements were complete.

'Now listen,' said Frank, addressing Dennis and the Kinchen; 'a certain person has injured me—irretrievably injured me—and it is my intention to confine him as a prisoner in this cellar. The matter must be kept a profound secret from the world; you must neither of you breathe a syllable in relation to it, to a living soul. My motive for confiding to you the secret, is this: I may at times find it necessary to be absent from home for a day or so, and it will devolve upon you two to supply the prisoner with his food. Be secret—be vigilant, and your faithfulness shall be rewarded.'

Both of his listeners expressed their willingness to serve him in the matter, and Frank dismissed them, with instructions to await his further orders.

Mrs. Sydney, having lost the letter which she had addressed to Nero (never dreaming that it had fallen into the hands of her husband,) that afternoon, while Frank was engaged in the wine cellar, wrote another letter to the black, couched in nearly the same language as her former one, and making precisely the same arrangement in reference to an interview with him in her chamber. This letter she gave to her maid, Susan, to convey privately to the black. It so happened that Frank, who had just finished his business in the wine cellar, encountered the girl as she was emerging from the rear of the house; she held her mistress' letter in her hand, and, confused at meeting Mr. Sydney so unexpectedly, thrust it hastily into her bosom. Frank saw the action, and suspecting the truth, forced the letter from her, broke the seal, and hastily glanced over the contents. It instantly occurred to him that, if he permitted this letter to reach its intended destination, the negro would naturally suspect something wrong, from the fact that he had received that morning a precisely similar letter; and thus Frank's plan might be frustrated. On the other hand, it was necessary for Mrs. Sydney to believe that the letter was safely delivered, in order that she might still suppose her husband to be ignorant of her amour with the black. In view of these considerations, Frank put the letter in his pocket, and then turning to the trembling Susan, said to her, sternly—

'Woman, your agency in this damnable intrigue is known to me, and if you would save yourself from ruin, you will do as I command you. Remain concealed in the house for half an hour, and then go to your mistress and tell her that you have delivered the letter to the black; and say to her that he sends word in reply, that should the signal be given to-night, he will come to her chamber. And do you, when you hear him knock thrice upon the gate, admit him, and conduct him to your mistress's chamber. Do this, and you are forgiven for the part you have taken in the business; but if you refuse, by the living God you shall die by my hand!'

'Oh, sir,' sobbed the girl, frightened at the threat, 'I will do all you wish me to.'

'Then you have nothing to fear—but remember, I am not to be trifled with.'

Half an hour afterwards, Susan went up to the chamber of her mistress, and said—

'Well, ma'am, I gave the letter to Nero.'

'And did he send any message?' asked the lady.

'Yes, ma'am,' replied the girl, in obedience to the instructions of Frank—'he said that if the signal is given to-night, he will come to your chamber.'

'Very well, Susan—you are a good girl, and here is a dollar for you,' said the lady, and then added—'you will be sure to admit him when he knocks?'

'Oh, yes, ma'am,' replied the maid; and thanking her mistress, she withdrew.

Left alone, the guilty, adulterous woman fell into a voluptuous reverie, in which she pictured to herself the delights which she anticipated from her approaching interview with her sable lover. The possibility of her husband's remaining at home that evening, thereby preventing that interview, did not once obtrude itself upon her mind—so regularly had he absented himself from home every night during the preceding two or three weeks; and as he had never returned before midnight, she apprehended no difficulty in getting her paramour out of the house undiscovered by him.

The conduct of this woman will doubtless appear very extraordinary and unaccountable to those who have not studied human nature very deeply; while the eccentricity of her passion, and the singular object of her desires, will excite disgust. But to the shrewd and intelligent observer of the female heart and its many impulses, the preferences of this frail lady are devoid of mystery. They are readily accounted for—pampered with luxury, and surrounded by all the appliances of a voluptuous leisure, a morbid craving for unusual indulgences had commingled with her passions—a raging desire, and mad appetite for a monstrous or unnatural intrigue—and hence her disgraceful liaison with the black.

Were we disposed, what astounding disclosures we could make, of beastly amours among the sons and daughters of the aristocracy! We have known many instances of unnatural births, unquestionably produced by unnatural cohabitations! We once visited the private cabinet of an eminent medical practitioner, whose collection comprised over a hundred half-human monstrosities, preserved;—and we were assured that many were the results of the most outrageous crimes conceivable.—But why dwell upon such a subject, so degrading to humanity? We will pursue the loathsome theme no longer.

Evening came, and after supper Mrs. Sydney retired to her chamber. To her surprise, her husband joined her there; but her surprise increased, and her annoyance was extreme, when he announced his intention of remaining with her that evening, at home!

Disguising her real feelings, and affecting a joy which was a stranger to her heart at the moment, she only smiled as if in approval of his determination. But in her heart she was most painfully disappointed.

'At all events,' she said to herself, 'I will not place a light in my window, which was the signal I arranged with Nero—so I am safe, at least.'

What was her astonishment and dismay, when her husband deliberately took the lamp from the table, and placed it in the window!

Amazed and trembling, she sat for some minutes in silence, while Frank, having lighted a cigar, began smoking with the utmost coolness. At length the conscience-stricken lady ventured to say—

'My dear, why do you place the light in the window?'

'Because it is my whim to do so,' replied Frank.

'It is a singular whim,' remarked his wife.

'Not so singular as the whim of a white lady of my acquaintance, who amalgamates with a negro,' said her husband.

'What do you mean?' demanded the guilty woman, ready to faint with terror and apprehension.

'I mean this, woman—that you are a vile adulteress!' exclaimed Frank, now thoroughly enraged—'I mean that your abominable conduct is known to me—your true character is discovered. Before your marriage you were defiled by that negro footman, Nero—and since our marriage you have sought the opportunity to renew the loathsome intimacy.'

'What proof have you of this?' murmured the wretched woman, ready to die with shame and terror.

'These letters—this one, addressed to you by the black, and this, which you wrote to him this very afternoon; but it did not reach its destination, for I intercepted it. The one which you wrote a few days ago, and which was stolen from you in your reticule, came into my possession in a manner almost providential—that letter I sent to the place this morning, and he, supposing it came from you, will come to-night to keep the appointment. He will observe the signal agreed upon, and will be admitted into the house, and conducted to this chamber, little imagining who is waiting for him. So you see, madam, both you and your friend are in my power.'

It is impossible to describe the expression of despair and misery which overspread the countenance of Mrs. Sydney during the utterance of these words. She attempted to speak, but could not articulate a single syllable—and in another moment had fallen insensible upon the carpet.