In a few days he began to grow stronger, and was able to sit up; and with the return of bodily vigour came back the deadly passions that had agitated him on the night of his return home.  The man, he said, had literally robbed him of his money, (in fact, won it); had cheated him out of every dollar of his hard-earned gains, and he would have his life.

When hardly well enough to walk about, Warburton felt the evil influence of his desire for revenge so strong, as to cause him to seek out the individual who, he conceived, had wronged him, by winning from him, or cheating him out of his money.  They met in one of the vile places in Cincinnati, where vice loves to do her dark work in secret.  Truly are they called hells, for there the love of evil and hatred of the neighbour prompt to action.  Every malignant passion in the heart of Warburton was roused into full vigour, when his eyes fell upon the face of his former associate.  Instantly he grasped his knife, and with a yell of fiendish exultation sprang towards him, like some savage beast eager for his prey.  The other gambler was a cool man, and hard to throw off of his guard.  His first movement was to knock Warburton down, then drawing his Spanish knife, he waited calmly and firmly for his enemy to rise.  Blind with passion, Warburton sprang to his feet and rushed upon the other, who received him upon the point of his knife, which entered deep into the abdomen.  At the same instant, Warburton’s knife was plunged into the heart of his adversary, who staggered off from its point, reeled for a few seconds about the room, and then fell heavily upon the floor.  He was dead before the cool spectators of the horrid scene could raise him up.

From loss of blood Warburton soon fainted, and when he came to himself, he found that he had been conveyed to his home, and that his weeping wife stood over him.  There were also others in the room, and he soon learned that he was to be conveyed, even in the condition he was then in, to prison, to await his trial for murder.

In vain did his poor heart-stricken wife plead that he might be left there until he recovered, or even until his wound was dressed; but she pleaded in vain.  On a litter, faint from loss of blood, and groaning with pain, he was carried off to prison.  By his side walked her whom no ill treatment or neglect could estrange.

Three months he was kept in jail, attended daily by his uncomplaining wife, who supported herself and little boy, with her own hands, sparing much for her husband’s comfort.  The wound had not proved very dangerous, and long before his trial came on, he was as well as ever.

The day of trial at length came, and Mrs. Warburton found that it required her strongest efforts to keep sufficiently composed to comprehend the true nature and bearing of all the legal proceedings.  Never in her life before had she been in a court of justice, and the bare idea of being in that, to her awful, place, stunned at first all her perceptions; especially as she was there under circumstances of such deep and peculiar interest.