XXIII
THE STORY OF A CHARMING WOMAN
"Fe, fi, fo, fum,
I smell the blood of an Englishman."
—Old Song.
"I hold you as a thing enskied and sainted."
—Measure for Measure.
"YOU have never heard, then, the particulars of Mr. Leavenworth’s marriage?"
It was my partner who spoke. I had been asking him to explain to me Mr. Leavenworth’s well-known antipathy to the English race.
"No."
"If you had, you would not need to come to me for this explanation. But it is not strange you are ignorant of the matter. I doubt if there are half a dozen persons in existence who could tell you where Horatio Leavenworth found the lovely woman who afterwards became his wife, much less give you any details of the circumstances which led to his marriage."
"I am very fortunate, then, in being in the confidence of one who can. What were those circumstances, Mr. Veeley?"
"It will aid you but little to hear. Horatio Leavenworth, when a young man, was very ambitious; so much so, that at one time he aspired to marry a wealthy lady of Providence. But, chancing to go to England, he
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