"Indeed!" said mamma, sympathetically, "how sad!"

"This we may call the first scene in the story," he added, although
what connection there was between suicide and his proposed marriage
with Ida, poor mamma could not imagine.

I could half fill my journal with the rambling, senseless, and menacing
remarks that Hudson made to mamma, adding emphasis to his discourse by
whirling a pair of very long and sharp scissors close to her eyes (he
was further armed with two razors, we subsequently learnt). Ida, he
said, first appeared to him in a vision--a beautiful young girl in
distress, who appealed to him for aid, but some one seemed to stand
between them--a tall woman dressed as a Sister of Charity (evidently
mamma, in her mourning dress and long crape veil). He then enlarged
upon the awful punishment that inevitably overtook those who opposed
the Will of Providence (i.e., his marriage with Ida): death by some
violent means being unavoidable. At this point, the scissors were
whirled more excitedly than ever, and Hudson's eyes glared with rage.
I need not say that mamma feared every moment would be her last; but
still preserving a calm exterior, she never took her eyes off him for
an instant, and merely remarking, "It is quite warm here; shall we not
sit upon the piazza?" accompanied him there, and sat down close beside
him, that he might not suspect she feared him. The moments seemed
endless until Bernard's heavy tread was heard upon the kitchen stairs.

"Excuse me a moment," said mamma, with a most innocent face; and in an
interview of _half_ a minute explained to Bernard that Hudson was a
dangerous lunatic who must be taken away immediately; then waiting till
the valorous Bernard was safely out on the piazza, she unceremoniously