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 shut and locked the door.  Hudson, apparently much surprised at such inhospitable conduct, pulled the door-bell half a dozen times.  When he was quite wearied with his exertions, Bernard suggested that they should take a little walk together.  Much coaxing was requisite, for Hudson was quite determined to effect an entrance; but finally Bernard took his arm, and bore him off to the tavern.

“I had much more to say to Mrs. Cleveland,” he remarked, en route, “but I fear it has already been too much for her nerves.”

At the tavern, Bernard found a constable, who immediately arrested the unhappy victim of misplaced affection, and telegraphed to Mount Kisco for a magistrate.  Then ensued endless hours of waiting.  Mamma lay upon the sofa whiter than any ghost, now that the strain upon her nerves was relaxed, and Mrs. L——­, a loquacious neighbor, ran in from time to time with reports of what people were saying, and how the prisoner looked and felt.

At 7 P.M. the magistrate, Mr. Clarence Hyatt, arrived, and we all went down to the improvised court-house in the tavern.  Ida and mamma were shown into a private room, where Mr. Hyatt, a very polite and agreeable gentleman, took their affidavits before they were confronted with the enemy.  The news had by this time spread far and near, and all Chappaqua was assembled.  The wildest reports were now circulated, to the effect that Hudson had pointed a pistol at Ida, and vowed to kill her instantly if she did not promise to marry him, and mamma and Ida were advised to keep their veils down, that he might not become familiar with their faces, and to remain at a respectful distance from him.