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TO-DAY A MISTRESS, TO-MORROW A SLAVE.
THE night was dark, the rain descended in torrents from the black and overhanging clouds, and the thunder, accompanied with vivid flashes of lightning, resounded fearfully, as Henry Linwood stepped from his chaise and entered Isabella's cottage.
More than a fortnight had elapsed since the accidental meeting, and Isabella was in doubt as to who the lady was that Henry was with in the carriage.

Little, however, did she think that it was his wife.

With a smile, Isabella met the young man as he entered her little dwelling.
Clotelle had already gone to bed, but her father's voice aroused her from her sleep, and she was soon sitting on his knee.
The pale and agitated countenance of Henry betrayed his uneasiness, but Isabella's mild and laughing allusion to the incident of their meeting him on the day of his pleasure-drive, and her saying, "I presume, dear Henry, that the lady was one of your relatives," led him to believe that she was still in ignorance of his marriage.

She was, in fact, ignorant who the lady was who accompanied the man she loved on that eventful day.
He, aware of this, now acted more like himself, and passed the thing off as a joke.