The moon shone brightly on the trellised piazza of the —— House, at Niagara. The sleepy house-porter had curled himself up in the hall corner; the sonorous breathings of weary travelers might be heard through the open windows, for the night was warm and sultry. Two persons still lingered on the piazza. Judging from their appearance, they were not tempted by the beauty of the night. Ensconced in the shadow of the further corner, they were earnestly engaged in conversation.

"I tell you she is in this house; I saw her name on the books—'Gertrude Dean,' your ex-wife. What do you think of that—hey?"

"The d—l!" exclaimed Stahle. "I can swear, now that I am out of school, you know, Smith."

"Of course," replied the latter, laughing; "the only wonder is, how you manage to get along with so few vacations. To my mind, swearing lets off the steam wonderfully."

"How long has this admirable spouse of mine been here?" asked Stahle.

"Don't know. Didn't like to ask questions, you know, until I had first spoken to you. She's flush of money, of course, or she could not stay here, where they charge so like the deuce. I should think it would gall you a little, Stahle, and you so out of pocket."

"It would," said the latter, with another oath, "had I not the way of helping myself to some of it."

"How's that? The law does not allow you to touch her earnings, now you are divorced."

"All women are fools about law matters. She don't know that," sneered Stahle. "She is probably traveling alone, and I will frighten her into it—that's half the battle. I owe her something for the cool way she walked round all the traps I sprung for her, without getting caught. I thought when I left her that she would just fold her hands, and let the first man who offered find her in clothes, on his own terms, for she never was brought up to work, and I knew she had no relations that would give her any thing but advice;" and Stahle gave a low, chuckling laugh.

"You see I always look all round before I leap, Smith. I can't understand it now, and I never have, why she didn't do as I expected, for she might have had lovers enough. She was good-looking, and it was what I reckoned on to sustain the rumors I took care to circulate about her before I left; but what does she do but shut herself up, work night and day, and give the lie to every one of them. I wrote to my brother, Fred, to try every way to catch her tripping, to track her to every boarding-house she went to, and hint things to the landlord, carefully, of course. Fred knows how to do it; but you know if a woman does nothing but mind her own business, and never goes into company, a rumor against her will very soon die out. I kept spies constantly at work, but it was no use, confound her; but some of her money I will have. Here she is living in clover, going to the Springs, and all that; while I am a poor clerk in a grocery store. I feel as cheap when any Eastern man comes in, and recognizes me there, as if I had been stealing. I won't stand it; Mrs. Gertrude Dean, as she calls herself, has got to hand over the cash. If I can't ruin her reputation, I'll have some of her money."

"You advertised her in the papers, didn't you, when you left?—(after the usual fashion, 'harboring and trusting,' and all that)—were you afraid she would run you in debt?"

"Devil a bit; she's too proud for that; she would have starved first."

"Why did you do it, then?"

"To mortify her confounded pride," said Stahle, with a diabolical sneer, "and to injure her in public estimation. That stroke, at least, told for a time."

"A pretty set of friends she must have had," said Smith, "to have stood by and borne all that."

"Oh, I know them all, root and branch. I knew I could go to the full length of my rope without any of their interference. In fact, their neglect of her helped me more than any thing else. Every body said I must have been an injured man, and that the stories I had circulated must be true about her, or they would certainly have defended and sheltered her. I knew them—I knew it would work just so; that was so much in my favor, you see."

"They liked you, then?"

Stahle applied his thumbs to the end of his nose, and gave another diabolical sneer.

"Liked me! Humph! They all looked down on me as a vulgar fellow. I was tolerated, and that was all—hardly that."

"I don't understand it, then," said Smith.

"I do, though; if they defended her, they would have no excuse for not helping her. It was the cash, you see, the cash! so they preferred siding with me, vulgar as they thought me. I knew them—I knew how it would work before I began."

"Well, I suppose this is all very interesting to you," said Smith, yawning, "but as I am confounded tired and sleepy, and as it is after midnight, I shall wish you good-night."

"Good-night," said Stahle. "I shall smoke another cigar while I arrange my plans. This is the last quiet night's sleep 'Mrs. Gertrude Dean' will have for some time, I fancy."

"Scoundrel!" exclaimed John, leaping suddenly upon the piazza through his low parlor window. "Scoundrel! I have you at last," and well aimed and vigorous were the blows which John dealt his sister's traducer.

Your woman slanderer is invariably a coward—the very nature of his offense proves it. There never was one yet who dared face a man in fair fight; and so on his knees Stahle pleaded like a whipped cur for mercy.

"Go, cowardly brute," said John, kicking him from the piazza. "If you are seen here after daylight, the worse for you."

"Very strange," muttered Smith the next morning, "very strange. Something unexpected must have turned up to send Stahle off in such a hurry. Well, he is a sneaking villain. I am bad enough, but what I do is open and above board. I don't say prayers or sing psalms to cover it up. I don't care whether I ever hear from him again or not."